Look but Don't Touch (2 page)

I wonder if they know how lucky they are.

"Um, hi! May I have a Sprite, please?" a happy voice asks Mark. Tilting my head to the right, I look down to see a young woman, definitely a Little Girl, standing there. Despite the darkness of the club, I can see that her brown hair has hints of dark red. It's gathered in two low pigtails, long enough to reach past her ample cleavage. Her baby-doll dress is both innocent and provocative as hell. In light yellow with white lace, it's cute. But the way it pushes her tits together shoves "innocent" out the window. It's also short, ending right below her ass, and exposes her sexy legs.
Fuck
. White cotton kneesocks. Flat Mary Jane shoes that match her dress.

Shifting my gaze up
ward, I get a good look at her lovely profile. Her gorgeous face is framed by those two pigtails; her nose is slightly upturned, and her lips are pouty. She's fair-skinned, delicate-looking, but her
eyes
… I chuckle quietly to myself and take a sip from my tonic. Her light blue eyes have a spark of mischievousness in them. I assume she's attached; a stunning girl like her doesn't come without a Daddy—pardon the pun—and I'm willing to bet her Daddy has a lot of fun with her.

"Here you go, honey
," Mark says, and he's about to tell her to price, but I wave him off. He grins and nods. "Never mind, then."

The girl turns in my direction, smiles shyly, and gives me a small cur
tsy. "Thank you for the drink, Sir." Her voice is soft and sweet.

"You're welcome." I nod with a dip of my chin and continue letting my eyes roam her exquisite body.
Happy and bubbly have been replaced by demure and coy. I'd be a liar if I said I wasn’t attracted to her, but as long as I'm only looking…

"Um." She fidgets with her glass. "Are you here alone?"

The corners of my mouth turn up slightly. "I am." It's technically true.

"Oh." Her head bobs in a small nod, eyes focused on her drink. "I see."

Leaning closer, I ask, "Hasn't Daddy told you not to speak to strangers, little one?" After all, many Doms and Daddies don’t permit their subs to engage with others. Well, at least not with other Dominants. If you look around my club, you would see the bowed heads of the submissives and the socializing men and women who own them.

"I'm here alone, too." She meets my gaze and juts
out her chin.
How cute
. I think this one has a stubborn streak in her. That makes me yearn even more. "There aren't only couples here, you know."

"I'm very aware," I concede with a laugh. Of course unat
tached people come here. "You're a sassy one, aren't you?" And she doesn’t have a Daddy to take care of her or keep her in line?
Christ
.

"Shit, sorry." In the faint light of the spotlights behind the bar, I can see her cheeks flushing scarlet. She looks down again and shuffles her feet. "The Daddy I had when I lived in
Texas told me I was a brat sometimes. I'm really sorry, Sir." When she once again meets my gaze, it feels like she could make Bambi look evil. Because this girl's doe eyes have to be the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. I also realize she has to be very young. Age difference has never bothered me, but I've never had a Little Girl more than five or six years younger than I.

"
No reason to apologize, sweet girl." Taking a step closer, I set down my drink and silently ask for her hand. She offers it straightaway, and I hold it in both of mine. "I'm Nicholas Ford."

Her eyes grow wide. "K-Kayla Brandon," she stutters
. "Did you—I mean…Nicholas Ford, as in—this is your c-club?"

I nod, a bit amused to see her so flustered.
"That’s correct."

"Oh," she exhales. "A friend of mine in
New York, she told me I had to come here. She said this is the best BDSM club in San Francisco. Crap, sorry, I'm rambling." She cringes. "I blame jet lag."

I laugh through my nose and give her hand a squeeze. "
Well, it's nice to meet you, Kayla. I take it you're new in town?"

"Yes, S
ir. I just got back from visiting a friend in Spain. Before that, I was in Florida, and now I'm here." She blows out a breath before taking a big gulp of her Sprite. "I'm thinking about moving here. I don’t know. I have some family here, but—" She grimaces. "And now you know a bunch of stuff you never asked for." I grin as she rolls her eyes at herself. "Rewind. Yes, Sir. I'm new in town."

"Too cute
." I chuckle and tap her on the nose. She flushes again. "If you're here for the scenes later, I hope you enjoy." I take a step back. "I'll be around, so if you need me, don’t hesitate. Okay?" I dip down a little to come face-to-face with her. She's a short one, with a small frame, yet she's curvy, plump, and gorgeous.

"Thank you," she responds shyly.

With a light touch to her cheek, I leave her to socialize, as is my job here tonight. My club manager is obviously here too, but for events such as this one, I like to show my face as well.

*

Two hours later, I disappear upstairs into my office to calm down for a while. A couple from Los Angeles just did a scene involving the whipping bench, and when I saw Kayla in the crowd, watching intently, it was almost too difficult for me to remain where I was. Now, bondage isn't exactly my game. I've never had a playroom. What turns me on the most is a girl's submission and her vulnerability. I have a need to be in total control: to protect, to possess, to care for. Affection is very important to me, both giving and taking.

R
egardless, I've only ever used smaller implements. No leather, no steel, no chains. If I want to punish my submissive, I deny her what she needs; I show her I'm the only one who makes decisions, and I turn her into a quivering mess of pleas and whimpers. I don’t need a whipping bench for that. If you want someone completely dependent on you, take away what she loves most and make it clear only you can give it back. Still…to see Kayla so intrigued, so captivated—it was a sight that made my cock throb.

Studying her from afar, I could see what she liked and didn’t during the scene. I saw how her
pouty lips pursed when the Daddy Dom pushed his Little Girl onto the rather hard whipping bench and paddled her bottom. I saw how her eyes softened when the Daddy hugged his little one close and whispered in her ear. And I saw how Kayla's chest heaved when the Daddy flipped his girl over onto her back and proceeded to ram his cock into her.

Up here, in my office, I find Kayla easily down on the floor. She's at the bar again, ordering another
soda, and it seems like she's looking for someone. Seeing as she's new in town, I can only hope it's me she's in search of, which causes something feral inside of me to flare and come back to life. But I'm already balancing on the proverbial line, one that cannot be crossed.
Look, but don’t touch
. That’s my rule.

Sighing
heavily, I walk away from the large window and end up behind my desk. I need a distraction, though that’s hard to come by up here. The office is fairly large, but it's pretty empty. I have my desk, filing cabinets behind me, some erotic artwork on the dark red walls, and a small seating area by the window: two grey couches and a coffee table. That’s it. Nothing to distract me from the girl downstairs. So, I'm left with my thoughts.

For a few moments, I pace the light hardwood floor in front of my
desk; I try to minimize everything that’s happened so far this evening. My reason for being so attracted to Kayla has to stem from the desires we share. Nothing else. And my wish to possess her must have something to do with the fact that I haven't been in a D/s relationship in six months. Vanilla sex, while pleasurable, isn't enough. That’s why I come here—to get my fill. It
needs
to be enough.

I'm not sure children are for me
, but I do want to get married one day and have someone who is my equal, my partner. But Kayla's not that person. She doesn’t even live in San Francisco—she's just thinking about moving here—and for all I know, she is like my previous Littles in the aspect that they don’t want anything beyond the fetish. Though, to be honest, I'm the one who has ended the majority of my relationships.

I'm a picky bastard.

With another heavy sigh, I slump down in my desk chair again. Elbows on the desktop, I run my hands through my hair and tug at the ends. I'm about to begin a new internal rant, but a knock on the door interrupts.

"Mr.
Ford, it's Kevin," my club manager says, and I tell him to enter. However, it's not just Kevin. Jesus Christ, it's Kayla, too. "Sorry to bother you, but Ms. Brandon insisted on seeing you."

Of course she did
, I think wryly. How else will she plague my thoughts? "That’s quite all right," I half-lie and wave her in. "You're excused, Kev." Again, if I were smart, I would've told him to remain. Alas, he's already gone. "Kayla. What can I do for you?"

She shifts her weight from foot to foot, either uncomfortable or nervous. Maybe a combination of both. "
Um, I was just wondering if you had any painkillers or something," she mumbles, chewing on her lip. I frown, now concerned. "I have a headache, and…" She lets out a nervous chuckle. "Sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you—"

I cut her off with a firm yet gentl
e tone. "Have a seat, honey." I point to the couches by the window. In the mini fridge under my desk, I grab a bottle of water, and in my top drawer, I locate a bottle of Tylenol.

"I'm sorry." She needs to stop apologizing. "I guess I should've slept more than two hours after my flight." Her smile is rueful.

"You need your eight hours, Kayla," I chastise and sit down next to her on the couch. "Here, take two." I hand her the pills and the water. "So, let me get this straight. After countless hours on flights, you come to San Francisco, check in to a hotel…?" She nods. "And then you only sleep two hours before coming to my club." I give her a disapproving look.

"Yeah," she says sheepishly. "But my friend told me about the event tonight. I wanted to be here."

"Have you at least eaten?" I arch a brow, annoyed and more than a little bit worried. Thankfully, she nods and tells me about going to a restaurant before coming here. She really does appear to be in pain, so I urge her to lean back and close her eyes for a bit. I bet the music downstairs hasn't been much of a help to her. I'm glad she came up here, really. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Eyes still closed, she smiles softly and shakes her head. "No, thank you." She hums as I drape a blanket over her. "I just need a moment for the
Tylenol to kick in. Then I'll be on my way."

I frown at that, wanting her to stick around
, but knowing that'd be stupid. Too tempting. I'm already thinking thoughts I should be ashamed of. For instance, I know very well what could release some tension and help with her headache—something much more pleasurable than painkillers.

"Mr.
Ford?"

"Hmm?" I look down at her
, only to be met by another shy expression. "What is it, sweet girl?" I brush a piece of hair away from her face.

"Do you, um…" She pulls the blanket up to hide her face, only her eyes visible. "Do you have a Little Girl of your own?"

I chuckle. "Do you really think I'd be up here with you if I did?" Then I sober, knowing that while I don’t have a sub, I certainly have a girlfriend, and I'm still here with Kayla. I clear my throat and slide away from her. At the same time, the blanket slips down to her chest. "There
is
someone else," I admit and scrub a hand over my face. "I'm in a vanilla relationship."

"Oh." Fuck me if she doesn’t pout. "Lucky woman." She offers a small smile. "I should probably go."
I don’t think; I just do. When she makes a move to get up, I gently push her back. I will kick my ass tomorrow, but now…I can't resist any longer. "What?" She looks to me, confused.

I swallow, my mouth too dry.
Look, but don’t touch
. "Stay," I command quietly. I can feel myself slipping into a role I've suppressed for so long. "How's your head?"

She shrugs and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth.

"I can't touch you," I murmur. "But I can still help you."

My mind begins to spin, and the first thing I do is look inside of
myself for guilt. It's there, I suppose, but not enough to stop me.

"How?" she breathes out as her pupils dilate.

The smirk on my face tells her all she needs to know, and my cock hardens at the sight of her expression. Judging by her face, her breathing, and her posture, I'd say she's more than a little aroused.

"Will you let me help you?" I ask softly and place my right arm on the back of the couch. With my free hand, I pull away the blanket and drop it on the floor.

Kayla doesn’t reply verbally, but she does nod—quite furiously.

I smile and lean in.
"You're a dirty little girl, aren’t you?" I whisper in her ear. "Desperate for an orgasm." Looking down, I have the perfect view of her tits, all pushed together in her light yellow dress. Her pigtails linger down her chest in loose curls, and I can't stop myself from twirling a lock between my fingers, which causes them to brush against her cleavage. "Tell me—" I notice her shiver when I exhale into her neck "—are you wet, baby girl? Are you fantasizing about a big cock destroying your pretty little pussy?" Her breathing hitches, a flush spreading over her lovely cheeks. "Or maybe pushing inside your tight bottom?"