Caring for Little Ollie Read online

  Serena really was the best. We’d been almost inseparable since she sat next to me in our intro to microeconomics class. It didn’t hurt she had some Domme/Mommy tendencies that made everything easier on me—no picking where we were going to eat or what we were going to do. There had to be at least one decisive person in our friendship and it sure as hell wasn’t me. Although, sometimes I did wonder what she and her boyfriend got up to in the bedroom but thankfully I’d never brought it up because I knew she’d have no problem telling me everything.

  “No, I’m going.”

  “Alright, just remember I offered.”

  We chatted for a couple more minutes before saying our goodbyes.

  I looked at the color of the sky outside and knew if I wanted time to color before bath and bedtime, I needed to get a move on. Sighing, I reached for the handle, opened the door, and stepped out of the car. Giving myself a mental pep talk, I walked toward the entrance.

  Stepping inside, I looked around for the stack of hand baskets, cursing under my breath when I noticed they weren’t in their usual spot. I glanced around helplessly until my eyes stopped on a handsome man sitting in the small café to the right of the doors. Usually I had more tact when checking out a hot guy but he was my every Daddy fantasy brought to life.

  He was obviously taller than me and wider too, just enough to make me feel small in his presence. He wore a pair of smart, black glasses that he pushed up as he highlighted a section of his book. Occasionally a lock of his deep brown hair would fall into his eyes, which he ruthlessly pushed back into place. He leaned back in his chair and reached for his coffee. He’d pushed up the sleeves of his gray shirt, showing off his strong forearms and capable hands.

  I had the insane urge to go to him and crawl into his lap. I wanted to cuddle into his chest, press my ear to his heart, and listen to the steady powerful rhythm of it beating. I wanted to feel his arms wrap tight around me and the stubble on his chin catching in my hair as he nuzzled me back. I wanted to hear him whisper in my ear how proud of me he was and that I was his good boy.

  He must have sensed my intense gaze because he looked up and immediately focused on me. Not looked around, not people watched, no, his eyes locked straight with mine. Caught, I turned away and saw the stack of hand baskets waiting for me on the other side of the door.

  Casually, I picked up a basket and swung it as I wandered into the produce section. I pretended to be just your average shopper going about their average life but inside my chest felt tight and my heart was close to exploding in my chest.

  That brief second of eye contact had done something to me. I wasn’t looking at him anymore but I could still see his warm brown eyes, stubbly five-o-clock shadow, and firm kissable lips. Everything about him screamed Daddy. I poked around the vegetables for a minute, trying to look inconspicuously toward the coffee shop without getting caught.

  When my eyes locked with his for the third time, I figured I was being weird and creeping him out. I shook my head and pushed him out of my thoughts. There was no way he was a Daddy Dom. He probably wasn’t single and with my luck, he probably wasn’t even gay.

  Focusing once more on my goal, I picked out some apples and a package of strawberries and placed them in my basket to mask my true objective. I turned the corner and couldn’t help giggling as I snuck down the candy aisle. One benefit to not having a Daddy was that I could buy all the candy I wanted.

  Picking up a package of my favorite lemon drops, I looked around before sneaking them into my basket. I couldn’t help feeling a little naughty—I still had a package of those strawberry candies at home, like the ones my grandma used to sneak me when my mom wasn’t looking.

  I strolled aimlessly around the store after that. In the men’s department, I found a pair of soft, jersey shorts in bright red that I knew would go perfectly with my fire truck shirt. In the bath section, the bubble bath I liked was on sale so it only made sense to get that as well.

  Next, I headed toward the school supply section. I peaked around the corner and huffed. There was a woman standing by the paint I liked with a small toddler in the buggy. I walked down the aisle and stopped in front of the pens. Lifting two packages, I pretended to study them as if my life depended on getting the right size and waited for her to leave.

  I gave her an impersonal smile as she passed by and discreetly looked around to see if anyone was watching. Alone, I dropped the pens, moved down the aisle, quickly picked up the bottle of yellow washable paint, and tucked it under the strawberries. I was about to hurry away when my eyes snagged on a set of eight glow-in-the-dark paints. I waffled for a few seconds before grabbing the package and stuffing it in my basket along with a new big box of crayons and a cute, dinosaur coloring book. Another benefit to not having a Daddy, I got all the toys I wanted.

  My smile faded as reality set in. I found myself doing that sometimes. I told myself that not having a Daddy was better when it came to getting everything I wanted. I thought about the candy and the toys to make up for the fact that when I went home, I would be having dinner alone, playtime alone, bath time alone, bedtime alone. Always alone.

  Feeling the sadness creep into my chest and tears burning at the backs of my eyes, I rounded the corner and set off for the toy department. I had enough stuffed animals at home but sometimes a little cuddle was all I needed. I just needed a little pick-me-up. Finding a cute bear on the shelf, I reached out and gave it a good snuggle. I thought about buying it too but used what little restraint I had and placed it back on the shelf. There was a forever home out there somewhere for him.

  I only had one last place to go. I slowed as I neared the baby section. This was always the hardest part. Technically, I had only come for the paints and crayons but I was almost out of the little fruit pouches I loved so much and I’d lost the lid to my favorite sippy cup. A new pacifier wouldn’t be out of the question either. One trip to the store was always better than two, so I forced myself to get it over with.

  Lifting my chin, I walked confidently through the short aisles trying to project the image of an adult who had business being there. In my head, I knew no one was watching me, dissecting my every movement but as I picked out my new sippy cup and placed it in the basket, I couldn’t help but feel that somehow everyone knew.

  I fingered the little yellow pacifier. Technically, there were stores online the sold larger ones made specifically for adults but I kept losing them. Buying a cheaper pacifier at the local store albeit one made for children was just easier. Caving in, I tossed it in the basket too.

  I turned to leave but stopped when I felt a hand land lightly on my arm. I stopped and looked over my shoulder into a pair of familiar, stunning brown eyes. I might have sighed a little when he smiled down at me. He had the most charming pair of dimples.

  “Hello.”

  I sighed again but this time I knew he’d heard. His smile widened and the small lines at the corners of his eyes deepened just a bit. I couldn’t help it. His voice was so smooth and deep with a hint of southern. Confident. Sexy. Daddyish. Was Daddyish a word? It probably wouldn’t win me any points at scrabble but it sounded right.

  “Hi.” I was officially an idiot. I could hear my little side come out so I cleared my throat and tried again with a deeper, more adult tone. “Hello. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  I paid no attention to the bit of disappointment I felt when he dropped his hand. I clutched the handles of my basket between sweaty palms and turned to face him, giving him my most earnest face.

  “I was in the coffee shop earlier and I noticed you when you walked in. I was wondering if you wanted to have coffee with me sometime? Tomorrow? Dinner maybe? I mean, if you’re available and want to.”

  I blinked, unsure if I was hearing what I thought I was.

  “I-I-I’m sorry. Are y-you asking me out? On a date?”

  He chuckled and nodded. “I am.”

  “Oh.”

  I worried my hands around the basket handles and smiled. Okay, so he was gay and available but that didn’t really matter. Accepting his date was a nice thought but probably not a good idea. I’d tried dating people before without telling them about the age play and being a little but found it just never really worked out. It was as if they could tell I was hiding something.

  One had accused me of still being in the closet—ha—and another had been convinced I was hiding some super secret other life when I refused to let him into my bedroom. Which, when I thought about it, I kind of was. My next boyfriend was going to be someone in the lifestyle, someone I didn’t have to convince I wasn’t a freak for wanting the things I wanted. I just had to get the nerve to start attending the local munches or join a club. I was just so afraid that even then I wouldn't find anyone and sometimes it was easier to live with the fear and what ifs than disappointment.

  “Okay.” Fuck. That was not what I’d meant to say but I couldn’t take it back when his eyes brightened and his smiled widened.

  “Okay.” His voice was soft and his pleasure was obvious as he reached out his hand. “I’m Marshall by the way. Marshall Walker.”

  “Ollie,” I whispered as I placed my hand in his. I jumped when I realized what I’d said. Ollie was my little name. There was no way I could allow him to use that name without knowing what it meant and I was never going to tell him. Marshall Walker had man-next-door vanilla written all over him.

  “Oliver!” I said a bit too loudly. “I mean my name is Oliver, Oliver Page.”

  “Which is it? Ollie or Oliver?” Marshall teased.

  Oh God, he’d said it. That name, the weight of his palm feeling heavy in mine, and the way his thumb gently brushed up and down the side of my hand almost had me calling him Daddy right then and there.

  Needing to take back a little of the control Marshall had unknowingly taken, I smiled past the butterflies in my belly and took back my hand. I ignored the pang in my chest at the loss of his touch and smiled with more confidence than I felt. “Oliver.”

  He stared at me expectantly but I had no idea what he wanted. He must have seen the confusion on my face because he smiled indulgently, leaned forward, and whispered, “Sorry, I got distracted. I think this is the part where I ask for your number so I can call or text you with the details of our date.”

  “Oh.” I giggled and passed him my basket to hold while I dug my phone out of my back pocket. I could never remember my number so I scrolled through my settings looking for it.

  “Do you have children?”

  “What?” I looked up confused. Had he just asked if I had children?

  Marshall lifted the basket and pointed to the items inside. “Do you have children?” He repeated then motioned to their location.

  I focused on the shelf next to me and realized we were still standing in the baby aisle in front of the pacifiers. My eyes zipped back to his and I felt the heat rising in my face.

  “I-I-I… umm.” It was harder to lie when everything was all right there and he was staring at me with those Daddy eyes. You must never ever lie to Daddy. God, I needed to get a hold of myself. Marshall wasn’t my Daddy—yet . “No.” Fuck me and my stupid brain.

  “I mean…” I blushed and stammered when no real explanation came out.

  I knew I should have said something, anything but for some reason I just couldn’t. A reasonable person would have laughed and made up some story about babysitting a nephew or getting supplies for a friend’s baby shower but I just stood there acting like a bumbling idiot. I knew he would never guess the truth but I still didn’t want him to think I was weird. Weird did not equate sexy and I wanted this man to think I was sexy even if we probably wouldn’t last past the first date, shorter if I couldn’t get my act together.

  He tilted his head and studied me, his lips falling into a slight frown.

  Great, he thought I was weird.

  Forcing a fake smile, I took back my basket and tried to think of something to say but the confused, calculating look on his face stopped me. What was he thinking?

  Unable to handle another awkward moment, I opened my mouth to play the last few minutes off when it happened. It was as if a light went off in his brain. I could practically see it in his eyes. He looked down at the basket and then back up at me. His eyes widened and his lips parted with a small, shocked gasp.

  I licked my lips and trembled, a single thought running through my mind on a continuous loop.

  He knows. He knows. Somehow he knows.

  Chapter Two

  Marshall

  Oliver was a little and he was adorable. I glanced once more into his basket and stared at the paint and crayons, the pacifier and sippy cup, the cute bright red shorts.

  It was all for him. Everything. All of it.

  The horror and embarrassment in his eyes confirmed it. I had uncovered his secret and he knew it. I smiled when he shifted the basket behind his back as if to protect it from my eyes.

  I repeat—adorable.

  I felt my pulse rise and my palms tingle as I watched him squirm. The only thing I found more attractive than a good-looking man was one that appealed to my sense of curiosity. Oliver was a puzzle I knew would take years to unravel.

  Oliver. Ollie? Was that the name he called himself when he was little? Was that why he didn’t want me to use it?

  More questions were already buzzing in my head. Why did he like being little? What was his favorite thing to do? Was being little a result of some childhood trauma or just an essential part of his personality? Was he submissive as well? How would he look cuddled in my lap with a pacifier in his mouth and tears in his eyes as I bandaged and kissed his boo-boos?

  I’ll admit Oliver wasn’t what I’d expected when I’d set off after him but that changed nothing. Well, it changed everything but not my intentions. I was still going to make him mine.

  I’d been reading at the coffee shop at the front of the store when I’d gotten that feeling that someone was watching me. I’d recently purchased a small house nearby and the café was the closest source for my caffeine addiction plus it allowed me to indulge in my favorite pastime—people watching. Having the tables turned on me was an unusual experience. I’d looked up to find him standing inside the entrance staring at me and not the subtle staring but full-body-turn-facing-me staring. My eyes had briefly touched his and I’d seen the flare of interest before he’d scampered away.

  He was exactly my type. Oliver was shorter than my six-foot-two frame by a good six or seven inches, was slender almost delicate looking, and would fit perfectly cradled against my chest. His soft blond hair flopped into big, blue eyes giving him a youthful, innocent appearance. His little button nose, thick lashes, and pouty bottom lip only added to his appeal. I hadn’t been able to stop myself from picturing him on his knees, looking up at me, and begging to suck my cock.

  I’d closed my book, packed everything away, and chugged my lukewarm latte. By the time I’d dropped my cup in the trash and turned around, he was gone. I knew I had to find him to get his name, his number, a date, something, anything.

  I’d searched everywhere for him but he had all but disappeared. I’d seen the baby aisle and thought surely not but I had looked anyway only to see him standing there. Delighted, I’d completely ignored where he was and placed my hand on his arm as he turned to walk away.

  During our short conversation, I’d thought him as sweet and innocent as he’d appeared but now I knew it went deeper than that. He probably expected me to freak-out, maybe even get angry or disgusted, but that was the furthest thing from my mind.

  I’d just finished my doctoral thesis in psychology and to that end, I’d spent many hours studying BDSM and many of its associated lifestyles—age play being one of them. The relationship between caregiver and little fascinated me but I’d never given it a thought beyond that of professional interest mostly because I’d forced myself to see it that way.

  BDSM was one of those things that at once enticed and repulsed me.

  It called to the part of me that loved control and subjecting someone to my authority. Dominance and submission were a psychological game that my mind wanted to play. It seduced me with the need to see someone bend to my will.

  And yet, I felt sick just thinking of subjecting someone to physical or mental pain at my hands. I’d seen enough bruises on small bodies and hid enough of my own to last a lifetime. In my mind, I knew BDSM was dependent on consent and that some people wanted or needed the pain but in my heart, I still saw the defeated, hopeless look in my mother’s eyes whenever my father came home.

  It took someone with a strength of will to give pain to others, to hurt with love and I just wasn’t strong enough. Who would want a dominant that couldn’t dish it out?

  I’d forced myself to stay away from age play even though it called to me the most because spanking and impact play seemed so integral to the lifestyle. What little would want a Daddy who couldn’t and wouldn’t spank them? Maybe in time I could get over my unwillingness to participate in that particular part of the lifestyle but I made no promises, no guarantees. Just thinking of raising a hand to this sweet, innocent man standing before me made me want to vomit.

  Hell, I couldn’t even think of engaging in alternative forms of discipline like mouth soaping, pepper to the tongue, or figging. Yet everything I’d read focused on discipline as a path to forgiveness. How would a submissive or little release their guilt and accept my forgiveness without it? How would they know I cared about their behavior if I didn’t take the time to show them?

  Having Oliver in front of me, unknowingly offering me everything I’d repressed was too much. I was weak. I knew I should turn around and leave, let him find someone who could give him everything he needed but I couldn’t. I’d already claimed him in my mind and that was that.

  As I stared down at him, my fantasy from earlier shifted with my newfound knowledge.

  He was still on his knees looking up at me with his innocent, blue eyes but this time he was waiting for permission to have his treat, his little sippy cup cradled in his lap and need on his face. Moreover, I pictured him sitting on the floor watching a movie while eating from a plate of food I’d prepared just for him while I sat on the couch watching. I couldn’t pretend the idea didn’t do something for me when I felt my cock stir in my pants.