Page 3 of Milk For His Little

But something about this guy, in our brief messages, had me feeling safe. So I agreed to come here so the milk would stay temperature-controlled. No one wanted to buy spoiled milk.

I reached up, knocked on the door, and my jaw nearly fell whenheopened it—he being the hot Daddy from the club that I had a crush the size of my apartment building on.

“I—I’m here for milk.” Gods, this was so embarrassing.

“Is this like a bodybuilder thing?” His question caught me off guard.

I was confused how he didn’t know the answer already. He’d seen me at the club; he knew what I was into. I was a Little.

Maybe this was just the protocol for buying milk from lactating men?

I shook my head. “I—I’ve seen you at the club. I don’t know if you’ve seen me, but I’m Little, and I want it for my bottle.” I’dmet his eyes a time or two, but me remembering him wasn’t the same as me being memorable to him.

“I see.” He stood, looking at me, not speaking. “Well, I hope you enjoy it. Did you want me to bring it to you, or do you want to come inside?”

“I’ll come in.” I had an insulated tote with me, filled with ice packs that I’d kept in the freezer at work all day. I followed him inside and told him how I’d been wanting a bottle for a long time, but I was allergic to cow’s milk, and the substitutes didn’t do it for me. I figured, why not tell him everything. If anyone would understand, it would be a Daddy.

“I can see why this would be good for a boy.” He loaded the frozen milk into my thermal bag.

“Is your Little gonna be upset that I’m using this?” I hadn’t thought of that. If he had a partner, they might look at a Little taking the milk differently than a bodybuilder or an infant. He hadn’t brought anyone to the club that I’d seen, but it wasn’t like I was there daily.

“Oh, I don’t have a Little. Littles don’t want a Daddy who—” he pointed to his chest, “you know.”

I didn’t know why he thought that. It sounded like the perfect scenario to me.

I looked in the bag, then back at him. The bag was filled with cold, far-from-the-source, machine-collected milk, and yet there he was, able to provide it directly from the source. I blinked the thought away. He didn’t need me standing here drooling at the thought of him, naked in front of me. Nope. This was a business transaction, nothing more.

“I think that’s exactly the kind of Daddy a Littlewouldwant,” I said quietly.

I zipped up the bag, thanked him again, and went on my way, excited to try my new bottle, a little disappointed it was going to be from a freezer bag and not my crush.

Chapter 4

Shawn

I pulled up outside the club and cut the engine, my mind on what Kasper had said when he collected the milk.

Him telling me I was the kind of Daddy a Little would want gave me hope that he himself would want me. But I’d also considered he was just being polite. Our so-called relationship might consist of him buying my milk. Our brief interactions being when he accepted the milk, made small talk, and skedaddled to enjoy his bottle.

Sitting with my head resting on the steering wheel, I almost started the car and drove off. Before Kasper came to the house, I’d decided not to interact with him, fearing I’d be disappointed when he rejected me.

And yet here I was again, hoping to find Kasper in the Little room. No, I pushed that thought away. Not Kasper, just a Little wanting to play. I couldn’t pin my hopes on Kasper, only to have them dashed.

I ordered a drink, just a soda water, as I veered away from alcohol when playing.

Gathering my courage, I grabbed my drink and strolled toward the Little room. I hoped anyone watching me wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. The pads were in place, keeping me dry, and I sipped the soda water as if there was nothing special about this evening.

But inwardly I was a mess, my belly rumbling and churning, and I almost raced to the bathroom as sweat dribbled down my spine. I paused before going into the Little room, catching my breath and hoping my thundering heart rate would slow.

“Hi.”

That hesitant voice at my elbow was the same one that had been on a never-ending loop in my head since he said goodbye and took off with his purchase.

“Kasper.” There was a croak in my voice, but the noise in the club might have masked it.

He shuffled his feet and glanced over my shoulder, suggesting he was focused on someone else. I tamped down the jealousy, but my mind had turned to cotton candy, all fluff and no substance, and I stood awkwardly wondering what to say.

Kasper nibbled his bottom lip. It was adorable, but as his Daddy, I would have encouraged him to take a deep breath and say what he wanted to say.

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