laughed at the awe in my tone. “I wouldn’t call him famous.”
“Hush,” I said, pressing a finger to his lips. “Let me live my fantasy.”
He kissed my finger. “Okay, little darling.”
“Tell me more.”
“There’s not much more to tell. Business was slow our first couple of years as we built our reputation, but here we are.”
“Have you… uh… had a lot of littles?” I asked, uncomfortable with my jealously but ruled by my curiosity.
“Not a lot, but there have been a few over the years,” he said, his voice quiet and understanding.
“What happened to them?”
He gave a small self-deprecating laugh as he answered. “The first few, gods we were a mess. None of us knew what we wanted or were doing. I’ve had relationships go south for normal reasons: differences in opinions and trust issues. I’ve had a few end because of kink reasons: I wanted to play more often or our other kinks didn’t mesh well. My last relationship ended… a year ago.”
“Why?”
“We wanted different things.”
I tilted my head back to look up at him. “What did you want?”
The wind tossed my hair into my face. Reaching down, he brushed it back and behind my ear. “To settle down.”
“That sounds nice,” I whispered, letting him know that wouldn’t be a problem with me. My mom had teased me once or twice about being a little Susie Homemaker, and truth be told, I wasn’t built for one night stands or casual anything.
“Good,” he replied.
We fell into a comfortable silence. Of course, I couldn’t let it last for long.
“I like this,” I whispered as his hand returned to playing with my hair.
“I do too, little darling.”
Lying against him, I knew it had been hours since we’d eaten lunch, and I started feeling peckish. Remembering the strawberries, I sat up and reached for the basket. I grabbed the container and noticed a stack of papers tucked against the side.
“What’s this?” I asked, pulling them out.
“Hmm?” Carson opened his eyes and looked down as I turned the papers over.
I read the first few lines, turned a million shades of pink, and shoved them down into my lap as I looked around to see if anyone was watching.
Carson laughed as he tugged the checklist out of my hand. “I brought it just in case,” he said, flipping through the pages as if they were nothing more than a business report.
“What are you doing?” I reached for the pages. Instinctively, he lifted them into the air and out of my reach. “Someone will see.”
“Who?” he asked, looking around at the empty park.
“People!” I insisted.
His smile was a bit patronizing. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered. Want to go through it?” he asked as he leaned over and snagged the basket. Digging inside, he pulled out a pen, settled against the tree once more, and organized the checklist in his hands.
“Here!?”
Was he insane?
“Why not? You got somewhere else to be?”
I clutched the strawberries to my chest. “I mean… no.”
“Perfect.”
Groaning, I fell to the blanket, willing him to get it over with. I wrestled with the lid to the strawberry container as he waited with his pen poised in the air.
“Abrasion?”
Oh gods, it was starting.
“No.” I shoved a strawberry into my mouth.
“What about with a beard?”
I imagined his head between my legs, his scruff scratching at the skin of my inner thighs.
“That’s okay.”
Half the time, he didn’t even wait for a response, taking his answer from my body’s reaction.
“Anal plugs?”
The sound that came out of my mouth was nothing close to a real word.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Do you have a size preference?”
Hearing the sheer delight in his tone, I rolled over and glared at how much pleasure he was taking from my embarrassment.
“I’ll write down small, and we can start there, little darling,” he said, making a note on his paper with glee.
“You are having way too much fun with this.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “Yes, I am.”
Further and further down the checklist we got, the more I wiggled and hoped no one could see the erection tenting my shorts.
“Dollification?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s where you would be my pretty little doll. I would dress you and pose you and do whatever I want with you, and you would have to be as still as possible and not say a word because dolls don’t talk or move,” he said, tweaking my nose. “It’s kind of like bondage, but it’s all in your head.”