Page 10 of Not Open Yet
A crimson flush started at his neck and went all the way up his cheeks. He sucked in his lower lip and then looked down at the bear in his lap. “Um…”
I went back to him and cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb across his jaw. "It's okay, sweet boy." I kept my voice low and steady. "This Daddy is happy to feed his milk in a bottle, if that’s what you’d prefer."
His breath caught, and he nodded. "Okay."
I warmed a bottle at the kitchen sink with hot water and took my time with it. I wanted Ethan to have a minute with his thoughts and feelings, and honestly, I needed one too.
When he saw the bottle in my hand, his eyes welled up and even more tension released from his body. “Thank you so much!”
With his soup and bread a thing of the past, I moved the tray to his dresser and sat at the edge of his bed. “There you go, sweetheart. That’ll make you feel better.”
He held it in both hands and looked at me over the top of it, carefully suckling like every drop was precious. The bottle wasn’t small, but he drained it quickly and lay with closed eyes. “I forgot how good that is.”
I folded my hands in my lap and took the empty bottle from him. "I’m glad you like it. I’ve got a lot more where that came from."
He grinned at me and opened his eyes. "I can’t afford to be your client, but I’m happy to take any leftovers you ever have."
"Now that I know, I’ll bring you some every morning." That was a bit presumptuous, but it was also aspirational. I wanted every morning with him…in whatever capacity he offered. "It's even better from the source, I’ve been told."
He sucked in a breath, and his eyes went straight to my chest. "I bet it is."
I wasn’t sure I had the strength to keep this conversation going any longer, so I cleared my throat and took a step back. “Do you want any more of the soup or should I put it away?”
His eyes closed again, but he had the bear's ear in his teeth. “Away.”
“You got it.” I got up to put the discarded food in the kitchen, but before I left the room, Ethan had one more question for me.
"You saidthis Daddy." He kept his eyes on me even though I could tell he wanted to look away. "Are you really a Daddy?"
7
ETHAN
If I hadn’t been sick, I never would have said that out loud. I might have thought about it and stewed over his words for the rest of my life, but I never would have come out and asked if he was a Daddy.
I tried to tell myself it was because my head was fuzzy and burny and everything hurt. All that was true, but it was more than that. It was Kyle and the way he made me feel at ease whenever he was around.
He made me think and say things that maybe I shouldn’t. And made me wish he was thinking the same things.
When he first walked into my room, I kept teetering back and forth on whether it was a dream or not. He’d never been inside my place before and fever dreams tended to be wild.
But it wasn’t a dream.
Kyle was really there and with soup in tow. He’d worried about me after my text and took the time to come and check on me. Not only that, but he also took the time to get me some soup.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around the entire situation. What were the chances that Kyle was not only nice and helpful but also understood what it meant to be Little? On top of that, he lactated. Just those things alone made him the catch of the century to any Little out there.
None of that automatically meant he was a Daddy, though. Selling milk was an obvious stream of income for someone who didn’t need all that he produced. It was just part of his business. And warming up a bottle for me didn’t mean he was into them, only that he respected the lifestyle.
But it didn’t feel like that to me, so I had to ask. I had to know.
He stood there with my empty bottle in his hand and watched me for a few seconds. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t want to answer or if he was trying to let me down nicely. Maybe he was wishing he never mentioned his milk to me at all.
And as the seconds ticked by, I regretted being so nosy. It was too much, too soon. It wasn’t any of my business. I wasn’t looking for a Daddy. Heck, it was still hard for me to leave the building. My face was burning up more than the rest of my body, and it wasn’t from the fever. I wanted to suck the words back in and pretend I was sleep talking, anything to make that question dangling in the air disappear.
Finally, Kyle gave a slight nod and smiled, holding my gaze. “Yes, I am a Daddy.” He didn’t look angry, and he didn’t laugh. He didn’t even look embarrassed or offended by my rudeness. He just leaned against the door frame and stared.
I expected him to rush out after that admission, but his posture was relaxed, like he wasn’t in any hurry at all. He didn’t even try to talk around the subject and give a nonanswer, like some menRand and I had encountered in our early days when we tested the waters at some clubs.
