Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
There was nothing overly sexual or even flirty in my tone, so I wasn’t surprised when he gave me a big innocent grin. I was surprised, however, when he bounced over to my lap and sat down just as innocently. “Me, Santa. It’s my turn. I’m Stirling.”
Nothing flirty there either.
What was his game?
“I’m so excited to meet you, Stirling. Do you know what you want for Christmas?” I’d never played the role of Santa straight before, so making sure I didn’t sound like a dirty old man was distracting as fuck.
Primarily because Stirling didn’t do little stuff.
He actively avoided it and while it technically wasn’t a red on his limits list because of some interesting mental gymnastics, he’d made it clear he didn’t want to do it.
To say his first experience with age play had gone badly would’ve been a massive understatement, but we’d figured out ways for me to get my caretaking needs out in ways that didn’t feel overly Daddy to him.
I’d been good with that.
I didn’t need the title or to buy him toys to take care of him…but this was an interesting development.
What the fuck had he been doing in therapy lately?
Even Conner knew about Stirling’s limits and he hadn’t done anything to push Stirling to sit on my lap and tell Santa what he wanted. We’d both been worried that would be too close to a trigger for him.
So if it wasn’t my fault and it wasn’t Conner’s…it was definitely therapy’s fault.
“Yes.” Slipping his hands between his knees, Stirling wiggled and didn’t do anything to make himself look older or sexier. “Toys.”
“Oh.” Doing my best to stay in character, I gave him a wide-eyed smile that hopefully looked sweet. “Tell me about the toys you want.”
Sex toys?
A new game for his system?
A computer game might be called a toy.
Was he practicing to see how close to little he could get without panicking?
I really should’ve put my foot down about the more answers thing.
“I want a truck and a coloring book and a trampoline for my backyard, Santa.” Stirling looked greedy as fuck when he got to the trampoline part, rubbing his hands together like he was the villain in a Disney movie. “I’m going to bounce.”
Stirling didn’t bounce.
We’d gotten invited to a silly party at a trampoline park when we’d first started seriously dating and one of the staff members had asked him if his parents were there. Even that had been too much for my boy and we hadn’t gone back.
“That sounds like a wonderful present.” Carefully resting one hand on his knee and another on his back so I could gently rub it, I did my best to sound like a happy mall Santa who had no idea the person on his lap had asked for a trigger. “Do you like bouncing?”
I needed more information before I was going to promise him a fucking trampoline.
Nodding excitedly, Stirling squirmed again and I had to remind my dick he wasn’t supposed to be paying attention to what we were doing. “I really like bouncing, Santa, and I’ve been talking to my friend about how much I liked it. He said I should ask for a trampoline since I liked it so much.”
Oh.
He’d been talking about trampolines in therapy?
Toys?
Ways to relax?
“Then I think that would be a wonderful toy to get you for Christmas.” It’d need to have one of those nets around it and he’d need supervision, but it wasn’t an unreasonable request. “Now let Santa think. What else did you say? A truck and a coloring book?”
Wait.
He hadn’t been talking about a new car.
A coloring book?
What the fuck had he been doing in therapy?
Chapter 6
Stirling
Hmm.
I wasn’t sure if I was as good at being subtle as I’d pictured.
“I like coloring and I want a big truck that has lights. My friend has one and that’s what I want. It has lights that work and it has a remote that makes it go and it has a horn too.” Conner made sure the littles at the club had the best toys to play with.
Rhett’s eyes flashed wide for a second when he realized what I was talking about.
Ugh.
He had questions.
I knew it was too much to hope that he’d just go with the flow…Rhett didn’t have any flow.
He worried.
He planned.
He made lists.
He was even very good at taking care of me without making it feel like he was caretaking me.
Hmm.
What would the littles do?
If I was going to try being one, then I needed to learn to think like one. Cheek kisses were important, so I gave Rhett one of those. Being cute or a brat was very important. I liked being cute better, so I made my eyes wider and smiled bigger.
Oh, and I didn’t have to sound like a grown-up since I wasn’t going to be one.