Page 21 of Puck Me Daddy

"See?" he said, his voice soft. "You're a natural."

I laughed, a carefree sound that echoed through the rink. I felt light, unburdened. It was a feeling I hadn't experienced in . . . God, I couldn't remember the last time. Demian's hands squeezed mine, and I knew he felt it too—this connection, this ease.

We skated like that for a while, Demian guiding me, encouraging me, praising every small triumph. I felt myself leaning into him, relying on him. And it felt good. It felt right.

Eventually, we stepped off the ice, my legs wobbly and my heart full. Demian led me to a tucked-away stand, the scent of greasy burgers and salty fries filling the air. The decor was whimsical, all cartoonish hockey mascots and bright pastelwalls. It should have been tacky, but instead, it felt safe, comforting.

Demian ordered for us, and we settled into a booth, the vinyl seats squeaking beneath us. I looked around, marveling at the details—the miniature hockey sticks hanging on the walls, the goalie masks with exaggerated features, the penalty box decorated with stuffed animals. It was a world away from the stark reality of my usual life, and I found myself relaxing, letting the warmth and comfort wash over me.

“I can’t believe somewhere like this exists,” I said.

Demian grinned. “I helped set it up, actually. I always enjoyed the club I went to, but I figured that Daddies and Littles didn’t always want to be in that kind of environment. You know, getting hot and heavy late and night. Sometimes, they just want somewhere to go and have some innocent fun.” He paused. “It’s not easy for people like us to be ourselves in public.”

I loved hearing that. People like us. As if me and Demian Pierce had anything in common!

“Everybody here has been personally checked by me or my employees and can be trusted. Nobody here cares about anything but having a good time.”

“It’s must be hard for you,” I remarked. “Being a celebrity. Being watched all the time. Being chased down by . . . people like me.”

Demian squeezed my hand. “You’re not one of them,” he told me. “You’re one of us.”

Another warm, fuzzy feeling ran through me.

"You did great out there, by the way" Demian said, sliding a plate toward me. The burger was massive, dripping with cheese and topped with crispy bacon. My stomach rumbled in appreciation.

"Thanks," I said, taking a bite. The flavors exploded in my mouth, and I couldn't help but moan in appreciation. Demian'seyes darkened, and I felt a thrill of satisfaction. I liked affecting him like this, liked knowing that I could make his control slip, even if just for a moment.

We ate in comfortable silence, the sounds of the rink washing over us. As I finished my burger, Demian nodded toward an area behind the rink. “You seen the soft play yet, Tilly?”

My eyes lit up as I took in the slides, the ball pit, the padded floors. It looked like a haven for Littles, a place where they could let go and just be.

"Want to check it out?" Demian asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. But there was something else there too—a warmth, an understanding. He got it. He got me.

I nodded eagerly, my heart drumming with anticipation.

Demian held my hand as we walked over to the soft play area. We kicked off our shoes, Demian's strong hands steadying me as I swayed slightly, already eager to dive into the ball pit. The scent of plastic and faint remnants of sanitizer filled the air, a strangely comforting mix that promised fun and safety.

“One sec,” said Demian, holding me back. “Take off your onesie first, or you’ll get too hot, sweetheart. Plus, I want to see that super cute outfit you’re wearing underneath.”

I grinned, loving how Demian was taking care of me like this. I unzipped the onesie, not feeling in the least embarrassed about what I was wearing now. In fact, I felt proud, and I loved how approvingly Demian looked at me.

I slid into the ball pit, sinking into a sea of colorful spheres, the cool plastic orbs shifting beneath me, supporting me in their chaotic embrace.

Demian slid in beside me, his larger frame causing a minor avalanche of balls to cascade over us.

Laughter bubbled up from deep within me, a sound so pure and carefree it surprised even myself.

Demian's eyes crinkled at the corners, his normally reserved expression replaced with genuine amusement. He bopped me on the head playfully with a red ball.

"That’s against the rules!" I accused, scooping up a handful of balls and tossing them at him in playful retaliation.

He deflected them with ease, his reflexes as sharp as ever. "And what exactly are the rules here, Tilly?" he teased, lobbing a few balls back at me gently.

I stuck out my tongue, a childish gesture that felt incredibly liberating. "No using your hockey skills to outmaneuver me," I shot back, trying to maintain a stern expression but failing miserably.

Suddenly, our eyes met, and a palpable hush fell over us. The air between us shifted, charged with an electric current that made the tiny hairs on my arms stand up. Demian's gaze softened, his eyes dropping to my lips before flicking back up to meet mine.

He leaned in, his hand cupping my cheek with a tenderness that made my heart stutter. His thumb brushed softly against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. Time seemed to slow as he moved closer, his breath mingling with mine. And then, his lips captured mine in a gentle, lingering kiss.

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