19. Kadence

It wasn't a dream.

It was all real.

I lie in bed the next morning feeling utterly exhausted and emotionally wrung out…but also happy in a way I've never known before. That scene was something else, and it was all because of Rafferty.

I've done group sex in the past. That's no big deal. But Rafferty held me and watched me and adored me the entire time. It's like I was the center of his universe.

And I liked it. I wanted it.

This isn't make-believe any more. It hasn't been for quite some time. I know he was clear this could only ever be a secret, short-term affair. But I knew at my door last night he was looking at me and silently asking for more.

Another kiss? To spend the night in my bed? I don't know. I was too overwhelmed, and pulled back before we could stumble any farther into choppy waters. The kiss complicated things enough for one evening.

It's kind of ridiculous that's the case, but here we are. Wild sex party? No big deal? One relatively chaste kiss?

Disaster.

Sighing, I drag my weary bones out of bed and force myself into a hot shower. It's the right move, and I start feeling better immediately. Physically, anyway. Mentally, my thoughts are still all over the place.

The kiss will only be a disaster if it ruins everything. Technically, we didn't officially agree not to do that. It was my unspoken rule that Rafferty followed, like a gentleman. So the only person here I've really compromised is myself.

But that's true of everything right now, isn't it? Rafferty doesn't know I approached him at that party to try and destroy his family's reputation. He has no idea he's a pawn in my vendetta against his son. It's only myself that I'm letting down.

So that's it. As the water cascades over my body, I blink.

I can decide the deception is over. So it is over.

I'm done with revenge. What's the point? It won't make me happy.

Not like Rafferty does.

My smile is shy, even though there's no one there to see it, not even myself. But I giggle like a little kid, the realization slowly washing over me.

Rafferty makes me happy. And I think I make him happy, at least to a certain extent. I understand that his life probably doesn't have room for me in it in a long-term sense. Whatever we have, though, I've decided it's just about that now, nothing else.

I release my animosity for Logan McKenna into the universe, banishing him from my soul. In fact, I feel grateful in a perverse way. Without him, I probably never would have thrown myself at Rafferty. I might have noticed him at that party, sure, but I highly doubt I would have pursued him so aggressively.

Even if this affair is over in a few weeks—days—today—the change within me will always be there. I've learned so much not only about myself and my kink but also about what I want from anyone who I allow to be close to me again.

I owe Rafferty so much. I owe Logan nothing. I don't ever have to see him again if I don't want to, at least not on purpose. I certainly don't ever have to tell him what I shared with his father.

My vendetta is officially dead and buried.

Now back to that kiss.

I kill the shower and shake off the excess water before reaching for my towel. "Fuck," I whisper out loud. What do Iwant to do about the kiss? Make a big deal? Pretend like it never happened? If only I knew how Rafferty felt…

The only way to find that out is to have a conversation like adults. That right there is such a big difference between him and his son. Logan wouldn't even entertain the notion of admitting to himself that he's into men. I'm not going to tell anyone their sexuality. But that boy is one hundred percent not straight, whether he likes it or not. Yet I knew there would never be the opportunity to talk to him about it.

With Rafferty, it's not like that. He might still be kind of surprised by his attraction to me, but he's not fighting it. He might not want to shout it from the rooftops, but we weren't exactly private last night. We're taking it slowly. He's curious. It's a beautiful thing to witness.

He approaches so much in his life like that. He's open to discussion. He doesn't throw up brick walls at every turn. I feel safe with him.

And there it is. The real crux of the matter. Stanley was so quick to commit to dating, to talk about the future, but it was all just hot air. His words weren't worth anything. Rafferty has been careful not to promise me anything he can't give me. His actions, however, have spoken volumes this entire time.

Even when I broke down or pushed him away, he was there for me. He never wavered. He's created space so I could blossom, and I've grown in ways I never thought possible. Even if the kiss has irrevocably changed things, I want to show him my gratitude.

So I do it the best—and arguably only—way I know how.

Until now I hadn't had much of a reason to pay attention to the fancy dresses he gifted me. Apart from last night, I'd only been wearing outfits for Rafferty around the house. And I'm still only going to be dressing for him, but I feel possessed with my mission.

I came here to be his doll. It's time he saw the princess version. Maybe that way, whenever we go our separate ways, he'll always have an image of what he meant to me. A physical manifestation of how he made me feel.

It feels a little weird at ten o'clock in the morning to be pulling ballgowns out of the closet, but I don't care. This feels like one of those now-or-never sorts of situations. Licking my lips, I consider my options. There's that Jane Austen-looking one, but it's a bit chaste for this occasion, I think. After all, I'd quite like this declaration of feelings and intentions to end with a raw and passionate fucking.

Ahhh. Perfect.

Because I hadn't removed this particular dress before, I didn't realize that it's actually a dip hem skirt. That means it's short at the front and long around the back. The lilac tulle is almost like a ballerina's tutu, so voluminous I already know it's going to be a riot to wear and flounce around the house.

I touch the beaded top half with a sweetheart neck, marveling that it's not constructed for someone with breasts—or at least, only meant to accommodate small ones. I do still have pecs, after all. Rafferty really did just go a thousand percent ‘I fucked a boy and I liked it' when he was picking out this wardrobe. His lack of freakout really was—and still is—refreshing.

Of course I'm not going for demure here. I slip a purple, lacy jock strap on and find my white, bedazzled thigh-high boots with the four-inch heels that could pierce a man's heart. Kiki might be in princess mode today, but she's also still a ho.

Again with the contradictions, I select the extravagantly constructed floral necklace to wear, the range of different colored gems sparkling like a fresh rainbow at the base of my throat. I add a pink tennis bracelet around my wrist as well as a drop earring made from spiraling platinum strands, diamonds, and pink sapphires.

Perfect.

I take time applying my face. I get the feeling that Rafferty is going to give me space this morning after what happened last night, so unlike usual, I'm not anxious about him bursting in.

I go full out with a complicated design around my eyes. Not my lips, though. I'm hoping I'll be getting some use out of them soon enough. A simple shade of lipstick does the trick, but my eyes have several colors, multi-layered liner, sparkles, and even some little stick-on pearl details around the outsides, just for fun. Finally, I don a pair of white lacy fingerless gloves that add an extra touch of glam.

When Rafferty sees me, I want him to know that he makes me feel like a queen. Like the star of the show. The belle of the ball.

I want him to know that I know that I'm the doll that rocked his world and changed his life.

Just like he changed mine.

Feeling like Miss USA, I rise to my feet, ready to sweep my Daddy off his feet. It occurs to me that he's probably been the one making decisions and providing for people most of his life. He's taken care of me like no other. But I swore to cater to his every whim, to worship him, to give him an escape.

It's time to turn that promise up to the max.

As I open my door, I listen keenly. Not hearing anything, I venture into the hallway, sparing a glance toward his room, but deciding that even if in the unlikely event that's where he is, I don't want to go there uninvited again. That was a raw and vulnerable moment for the both of us.

That isn't the vibe today.

I'm afraid but excited as I strut down the stairs, my fuck-me boots clicking on the wooden floor, thinking he might be in his office. I wonder if he's in a meeting. Camera on or off? Would I disturb him either way? I could just straddle his lap in my beautiful gown and show him how much last night meant to me with all his staff ‘watching' again.

The noise of the front door shutting pulls me from that daydream, though. Rafferty must have popped out. Sometimes he likes to drive for the sake of it if it's a nice morning or go out for coffee and bagels despite always having a fully stocked kitchen. Perhaps he had deliberately gone out to give me that space we both know I needed. Or he wanted to drive around and clear his head.

Whatever the case, he's back now.

And I'm ready for him.

Grinning from ear to ear, I swish my way toward the entrance hall, spinning around the corner like a Hollywood starlet who's ready for her close-up.

"Ohh, Daddy," I coo as I turn. "I've been waiting for you, and I'm so very desperate for your big, fat co?—"

The words die in my throat as my eyes widen and panic grips my chest.

It's not Rafferty who's standing there, staring at me in horror with a dropped jaw.

It's his son.