Page 17 of Swiped By My Dad's Best Friend
“What?” Aaron said again. “I’m fucking great in bed.”
“If your partner wants to feel like a porn star, maybe,” she told him.
It hadn’t felt like some porno re-enactment to me. But the tone of Aaron’s voice made it sound that way. I wasn’t sure I liked the feeling that Trace could be sitting around, shooting this shit with someone, talking about me in that way.
But he wouldn’t…would he?
“I think the Daddy thing is kinda weird, personally,” Mia continued. “But to each their own. If it works for two people, then who cares what anyone else thinks?”
Eventually my high faded, people stopped visiting my room, and I fell asleep.
When I woke, my worries hadn’t gone up in smoke, but lingered in the back of my mind.
I took out my phone and googledDaddy kink.
The first hit was the Urban Dictionary, and that definition didn’t offer much more than Aaron had. Not encouraging. My night with Trace might have been a one-time thing, but it hadn’t felt anything like a casual hookup. It had been more than just getting off…hadn’t it? For me, anyway. There’d been a connection between us, a feeling ofrightnesswhen I called him Daddy, and a relief I couldn’t explain when he called me a good boy. As if they were words I’d been waiting to hear for the longest time, even if I hadn’t realized it.
I didn’t know how Trace felt though. Maybe he’d just indulged me, thought it was hot to spank a tight ass and move on.
I felt deep in my core that there was more to it, so I kept searching.
The next article was written by a woman, but it was a little closer to what I was feeling. She wrote about why Daddies turned her on, what traits they needed to have. For her, it was more than empty words.
Daddies are dominant, she wrote, but not domineering. Daddies are playful, caring, nurturing.
And patient.
There seemed to be conflicting information about precisely what Daddies wanted from their boys, but one line struck home, lining up perfectly with what I’d felt with Trace:Daddies appreciate a little sass. They’re not exasperated by it, but secretly amused. They often find a little brattiness an endearing quality.
Trace had called me a brat, but not in abadway. I got the impression he’d liked my attitude.
I went on to another article, and another. Consuming tidbits about Daddies and their partners with a sense of relief.
Some people were into Daddy kink for only a night of fun—and maybe that’s what I’d had with Trace. But for others, it was a relationship dynamic they embraced more fully. When I finally reached the article that included quotes from men talking about Daddies—and specifically that it had no connection to their own relationships with their fathers—I breathed a sigh of relief.
I hadn’treallybelieved my father had any bearing on my sudden affinity for a Daddy. No, I was laying that all at Trace’s Daddy-sized feet. But it reassured me, nonetheless.
What didn’t reassure me was that I’d found my Daddy—and I couldn’t have him.
I slumped back into the pillows, sighing, unsure of what to do. My heart ached a little at the thought of never experiencing the calm, measured tone and gentle care of Trace again.
I’d told him it was just one night. I’d convinced him it wouldn’t matter. But I knew now that I’d been naïve. I’d had no idea how much it would affect me, how much I’d long for another night with him.
He was long gone now. I couldn’t have him. But…I couldn’t let go either.
On impulse, I pulled out my phone and shot off a few words before I could second guess myself.
Coop420:Wish I could blow off more steam with you. Weed just isn’t doing it for me.
I re-read my words, cringing a little. They were such a shallow representation of what I really felt.
I’d tried to keep it casual, light, like a guy who’d had a bit of fun. It wouldn’t do to let him see into the heart of me, to show him just how deeply he’d affected me. I couldn’t let him know—because what if he didn’t feel the same? What if he thought I was some stupid kid?
It was just too scary to reveal the truth.
* * *
TRACE
