Page 254 of Daddy's Pride

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Page 254 of Daddy's Pride

It meant that I couldn’t deny to myself anymore that, in my heart, Owen already was my boy… but that I also had to accept that all he would ever be was the boy of my heart.

Not of my body.

And my body, my cock, had needs, too.

Chapter 5

Owen

I expected that being done with finals would feel like a huge relief. It had been for the last two years, and I mean… I guessed it was. I’d definitely felt relieved, along with an almost giddy sense of freedom, when Tyler and I had gone out for pizza after our last test today.

But then I’d sent Daddy that picture of my salad, and I couldn’t even be embarrassed about how much I’d looked forward to him telling me he was proud of me, or that I was a “good boy,” just like he always did when I showed him that I was following one of his “rules” and taking care of myself, because…

Ugh.

I tossed my phone aside, giving up on scrolling through cute cat videos on TikTok since it wasn’t helping me turn my brain off, and grabbed my pillow, hugging it to my chest.

“What is wrong with me?” I whispered, feeling stupid for saying it out loud, because who was I asking? The air?

No, I felt stupid because what I really wanted was to ask Daddy these types of things.

It was crazy how he’d become the person I wanted to tell everything to lately, and the one I trusted to have the answers when I needed them. Because I didn’t really know him, did I?

This morning, I would have said I did, but now I could see that my, um, friendship with him had just sort of existed in a bubble. One I’d never poked at all that much, because…

Well, I didn’t really know why.

I just knew that him offering to come in person to look at the hot water heater was freaking me out. It was almost like I’d never really let myself think too much about how he was a real, live, flesh-and-blood person. Which sounded dumb, but I mean, I didn’t even know what he looked like, and I’d sort-of-on-purpose-without-letting-myself-think-about-it-too-much also made sure to never include selfies when I sent him my daily proof of eating vegetables pictures.

“Oh my God, I don’t even know his name,” I said… out loud again like a big dork, but holy shit. How? How had he become the most important person in my life and I didn’t even know him?

It wasn’t like we even chatted on an app where I could, like, look at his profile or anything.

We texted. With phone numbers. Like I did with my parents.

My stomach did a weird squirming thing. I didn’t like thinking of the idea of Daddy and my actual dad having anything in common. I mean, they didn’t, other than their names.

Ugh. Not their names. But calling Daddy Daddy didn’t feel like calling my dad “Dad,” not at all. Daddy may have been super, like, supportive and wonderful and kind, which I supposed could have been parental? Except my parents weren’t always like that, and Daddy didn’t feel like a parent, and…

And just…

“Ugh,” I screamed, mashing the pillow over my face.

I had to stop obsessing over this, because honestly, I didn’t even know what it was that I was obsessing about. It wasn’t like anything had changed just because suddenly I might actually meet Daddy in real life someday if there was ever an emergency, or the water heater started to leak again or something.

A heavy, ugly feeling settled over my chest, making it hard to breathe, and I blinked away a sudden hot sting in my eyes.

Maybe that was it. Daddy could have met me at any time if he’d wanted to, if he’d just said so. And sure, it would have felt weird right in the beginning when we didn’t know each other well, but I talked to him every single day. I told him pretty much everything. I felt, well, things. Almost like he was my best friend, except maybe something a little different than that, too.

I’d never had anyone who I actually felt like I could tell everything to before, or who would always be there when I needed him. And, like, obviously, it wasn’t a bad thing that he’d offered to come over to help if stuff around the house broke again. It was… great.

I just didn’t understand why, if he was willing to do that, he didn’t want to just, like, meet up for coffee, or maybe meet up in the dog park or go to a movie or come out with us to pizza or something.

“God, probably because he’s an entire grown-ass man who doesn’t want to hang out with college kids, Owen. Jesus,” I hissed to myself, needing a reality check.

Nothing had changed.

We were fine.




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