Chapter 2

2

Kiren

“ W hat are you doing back from lunch so early?” Polly asked.

“I left early. Plus, there’s an account that needs immediate attention.” It was the Monday after Thanksgiving. Things had piled up.

She tossed back her shiny braid. “Well, it’s not like you have to work.”

Behind my back, people spoke of me as the rich kid who worked for fun. They didn’t know me. They didn’t even try to understand.

My parents owned Living Sun , a company that produced environmentally friendly products, items like takeout boxes, pill bottles, packing supplies. It was rather boring on the surface, but in the past ten years the company had taken off, making them a lot of money.

I couldn’t seem to get it through people’s minds that it was my parents’ money, not mine. I wasn’t a trust fund baby. I was someone who’d been on the way to my own career, then halted in my dreams by an accident.

Getting hurt was a horrendous nightmare. I was at a college bonfire and rocks inside it exploded. I was hit and fell too close to the flames. I suffered burns on my back and left side. It took me a year to recover.

“I have my own bills,” I muttered to Polly.

Sure, my parents helped me through everything I’d gone through, the long hospital stay, the multiple skin graft surgeries. When I finally got out of the hospital, I stayed with them for over a year to recuperate. When I didn’t feel strong enough to go back to college, they suggested I work at Living Sun. They got me my own condo to make a new start. I was fortunate. I knew that. I took the job and got a paycheck just like anyone else.

I didn’t work for fun. I didn’t even particularly like the work. But I paid the taxes and insurance on my condo myself now, plus high HOA fees. I drove the same car I’d had in college. I was making my way back into the world, trying hard to regain my self worth.

I sat in my desk chair, an ergonomic shape designed to not press at my back scars. Still, I had to add a small pillow at my lower back to be fully comfortable for an eight-hour workday. Every day I grew physically stronger. The nerve pain was down from a nine to a two. Some days I never felt it

The only thing I missed was dating. I hadn’t got my courage back for that. I used to have an athlete’s body. I jogged five days a week and swam in the summer on weekends. Too shy to show my scars, swimming was out for now. Jogging pulled at my scars and my doctor said to give it another year. With treatments and creams, they were softening, my body becoming more used to them. But my body had changed. I’d lost weight. My knees knocked and my stomach was concave. Plus, I had more surgeries on the scars scheduled for the coming year.

I had a nice enough face, but the rest, well, who would want that?

I leaned back in my chair, shifting my body to adjust the pillow. When I rocked forward, my gaze caught a flash of red. I came all the way forward, lowering my head to see what it could be. Resting behind my empty coffee cup was a little plastic red truck. Its back was open and stuffed inside was a clear wrapped mini candy cane.

I picked it up, looking around. Everyone but Polly was still at lunch. Polly manned the phones and would have her lunch later.

“Polly.” I lifted my gaze over the top of my cubicle.

“Yeah?”

“Was anyone at my desk while I was out?”

“Nope. Not that I saw.”

I stared at the toy truck, realizing after a few seconds that I was smiling. I ran it over the veneer of my desk. Yes, the wheels really did work!

No one knew my secret that I loved little toys. Or that in college I had experimented on the fringes of the daddy/little kink. Whoever had left this on my desk had inadvertently just given me the most perfect tiny gift ever.

Throughout the day, I kept touching the red truck, running my fingers over the plastic hood and windshield. Who would’ve left this small, early Christmas gift? For me? I mean, people didn’t really talk to me much. I was the owner’s son. They were intimidated and left me alone.

Then I thought back to last week and the party the night before Thanksgiving. Max. The guy who’d bought me Dirty Shirley.

It was only Monday. Our first day back after four days. I hadn’t seen him. But I had thought about him. He had been far too handsome for a boy like me, out of my league. A supervisor. Plus, there was the whole non-fraternization thing without HR’s paperwork and approval. Would he have done something like this?

I settled into work, but all afternoon I couldn’t get Max off my mind.

When the workday ended, I grabbed the truck and my computer and left. I did think about hanging around in the lobby to see if I could spot Max but chickened out.

When I got home, I put the red truck on my special shelf with my other toy cars and trucks. Some were from my childhood, but I still collected them, so some were also new.

After I took a shower, I used a soft cloth to spread the special cream on my scars, some of which were super hard to reach. I put on my rocket ship pajamas with feet and made myself the completely healthy dinner of frozen chicken nuggets mixed with mini corndogs. I poured grape juice into my favorite blue sippy cup and took the meal and my bestie teddy, Brobear, to the couch to watch cartoons.

I’d spent a lot of days and nights recuperating on my parents’ couch. The habit had continued when I moved into my condo. It was my safe space where nothing could harm me, where I could curl around my pillows and my bear and find peace of mind.

I had plenty of time over the past two years to think about everything I’d missed out on after leaving college, and feeling sorry for myself. But I’d grown used to my time alone, indulging myself in having no demands, no interruptions until work began the next day.

But college still called. The men there. It had been the age of exploration. Discovery. I’d quickly found out I was a bottom. I boldly and proudly took the label. Every time I had sex, I liked to pretend that I was a virgin, young and untouched. It really turned me on when guys treated me like a prize.

Then I encountered daddy kink. That was it. I loved it. I wanted praise and aftercare and spoiling. I wanted toys and comfort, pillows and a warm body holding me down. I’d barely explored the deeper end of that kink, which had possibilities. Such as diapering, pacifiers and onesies, all things I never got the chance to try before my college days were cut short.

I dreamed of those things sometimes.

Tonight, I watched the cartoons cackle across the flatscreen and put my thumb in my mouth. That sensation, sucking, kept me even emotionally, allowing me to relax with no stress.

If I had gone down another path, perhaps never been injured, I might have a daddy now. But those thoughts were put away. Hidden. For another time. I wasn’t ready.

But as I looked at my window at the frosty night, the month of November ending and the path through December toward Christmas beginning, a pang of longing hit me.

A guy like Max might be fun to have around, but I was okay. I was alone. For now. I was safe. Happy in my private bubble.