Page 22 of Connor

“And you’re sure you’re not trying to buy me off or anything? Because you can, you know. With sex though and not money.”

“It’s a generous offer, but no thank you.”

“Will I see you again? Please say yes.”

He was killing me with all this. “I’ll be stopping by the Christmas party. But only for a short while to welcome everyone. Do you need a ride to the party? I can send Richards.”

“I’ll have my car back by then. But thank you very much. It was kind of you to offer.” There were those pretty manners again. I could close my eyes and imagine him on his knees with those manners on full display, his hair tousled and his luscious lips still swollen and pink from being wrecked by my cock.

“You’re welcome, Connor. I’ll see you at the party.”

****

The day of the party was cold and clear. I deliberately timed my entrance for about thirty minutes after the thing had started, hoping that by that time, Connor would have arrived and be embroiled in conversation with the other people there. Then I could just observe him for a while, make sure he was all right and slip away. The party was being held at a little café a few doors down from the club, called “The Cool Beans Café.” It wouldn’t have been my choice for a name—it sounded more like a place that Connor would name—but it was a popular spot for coffee and pastries, and I knew he would like everything about it.

I didn’t want to admit how much I wanted him to become a member of the club. He might not be exactly right for it, but I didn’t want to think about not seeing him again. His life was a disaster, and if anyone ever needed direction and friendship and a sense of belonging, it was Connor Floyd. The Daddy Club, as he called it, might give him that.

I wanted to at least be able to watch over him from afar, and I didn’t want to examine why that was. I didn’t like to be questioned and that extended to me questioning my own motives. But if he joined, I’d make sure whoever he would choose for his Daddy Dom would be right for him.

It couldn’t be someone who was too harsh, and it couldn’t be someone too soft. It shouldn’t be someone who was too into the idea of being a “Daddy.” Connor was far too sexual a being for that. He needed a firm hand, but he also needed some solid direction. He was like Goldilocks, in that he needed someone just right, and I’d be the judge of who that was.

The party was in full swing when I got there. Some of the littles from the club were welcoming guests at the door and directing them to the right section of the café, which had been closed off for the occasion. I was warmly greeted, and my friend Michael waved me over to his table, where he sat alone, nursing a coffee. Michael’s little was Cruz, who was at the door with some of his friends, though I thought of Cruz as more of a sub, in a way. He was a bit different from the others. A sweet kid, and I thought Michael had told me he was a middle.

I quickly scanned the room, and at first, I didn’t see Connor, but then I noticed him at a long table near the back. He had people all around him, smiling at whatever he was saying. I wondered if he was spinning them one of his “stories.”

“Good to see you, Jared,” Michael said, indicating the seat across from him. “Thanks for stopping by. The boys have put a lot of time and effort into this.”

“I can see that,” I said, looking around at the impressive amount of decorations and the huge Christmas tree filling the corner. “Any good prospects?”

“Definitely. Both Daddies and littles. The boy you recommended is over there,” he said, turning to look at Connor. A couple of the guys have gravitated toward him already. He’s very cute.”

“What guys? Those at the table with him? None of them are right for him.”

“Oh? What makes you think so?”

“Seriously, Michael? They’d bore him to death or try to put him in a onesie. Connor is more like your boy, Cruz.”

“Then he’s a handful and a half.”

“You have no idea.”

About that time, Connor glanced up and saw me. As cold as it was outside, he was wearing only that ratty ass hoodie of his. He stood up immediately and waved, his cute face wreathed in a big smile. Michael, who was watching him too, turned around and grinned. “Incoming.”

Connor practically bounced over to where I was sitting and plopped down beside me.

“Hi.”

“Hello. Are you having a good time?”

“Sure. Kind of. Well, not exactly. I was waiting for you, and I thought you weren’t coming, so I was sad, and that guy over there kept buying me drinks that I didn’t even want.”

“Drinks?” I frowned, because drinking wasn’t a part of play at my club. Many people did like to stop by and have or a drink in the evenings, so we stocked a good bar, but you could do one or the other. Not both. BDSM and alcohol didn’t mix. Since munches were to give people a chance to see if they liked what we had to offer, I’d made a rule against alcohol being a part of them at all. “What kind of drink?”

“Mocha Frappés, which are just as nasty as they sound. What the fuck even is mocha, anyway? It tasted kind of like chocolate milk, but not exactly. Anyway, I asked for a coffee and that’s what he brought me and when I gently pointed out that it wasn’t what I asked him to bring me, he said, ‘Little boys shouldn’t drink coffee.’”

He gave me an incredulous look. “Can you believe that shit?”

I was secretly pleased by his reaction, but I thought it would be really wrong to express that. Especially since it wasn’t out of any real distaste for the idea of what the man said—it was dumb, but I imagined he thought he was flirting and saying things that would appeal to a little. But Connor wasn’t a little—he’d made that clear. And I didn’t like Connor being given orders or lectured by some random guy. That was for his own Dom to take care of. Whenever he found one, that is. No one else should tell him what he should or shouldn’t do.

---