Little Love - Siobhan Smile
New Release Little Love by Siobhan Smile
An Age Play Romanceby Siobhan Smile
When the perfect little stumbles into your life, what are you to do?
Lindy Rubin performed every task per her strict routine. She was speeding towards forty and becoming bored with her orderly life. When she began to assess the emptiness of her personal life, she hadn't expected the surprise destined to arrive. Was it fate that brought her a beautiful girl with teary, azure eyes to her doorstep? If so, who was she to deny her Little Love help in her moment of need?
(This title contains elements of Age Play & Domestic Discipline (D/s), if you find those subjects objectionable this isn't the book for you.)
"Asshole, if you didn't want to go on a date with me, all you had to do was say so. I may not be skinny or all that pretty, but texting to say you wouldn't show up wouldn't have cost you anything. You’re such an ass, you motherfuc—Oh." Her bright blue eyes widened to comical size, and she was frozen on my stoop.
I was caught between confusion and amusement as she fully focused on me. She was dressed in a cute, pale blue dress with puffy sleeves, and her curly hair was in a messy bun. She was adorable. I’d never wanted to cuddle a woman at first sight as much as I did right then.
"Hello, little love. Bad day?"
"You're not Clarence."
"No, I'm Lindy, I live here."
"Clarence doesn't live here?" She nervously wrung her hands and looked everywhere, but at me. Even leaning to the side to glance behind me like the man who stood her up would suddenly appear.
"No, just me."
"Would you like to come in and wash your face?" I didn’t want her to get away. Maybe get her name or some details about her, like where she worked before she escaped back into the night. Fuck, I was sounding like a stalker in my head. Great, another personality quirk that I didn’t need to adjust to at almost forty years old.
"No, I should get home, I'm so sorry—"
"Come in. You're not leaving when you're so upset."
I caught her arm as she began to pivot, and I tugged her inside, closing the door and locking it. I spread my hand along her lower back, and my touch seemed to jolt her. She was several inches shorter than my almost six-foot height. I led her to the kitchen at the rear of my home. Then I seated her on one of the barstools along one side of the island. As I put distance between us, I glanced in her direction to find her sitting primly with her hands folded on her lap.
I wanted to touch her. Remove the pins from her bun to see how long the strands were. I busied myself so that I wouldn't make her uncomfortable. I started the kettle for tea, and then wet a rag to wash the tracks of tears from her face. With everything ready, I returned to her and tipped her chin up with my fingertips. I began to gently clean her face of the eye makeup and bright red lipstick. She stared at me through wide eyes, and I was fascinated with her. Why wasn't she telling me to stop? She'd make the perfect little girl for me. I didn't even know if she was interested in women, or a Domme. But at that moment, I just wanted to care for her. Give her some tea, calm her down, and then call a car to take her home. I'd prefer to tuck her into my guest room bed, but I didn't want to push my luck.
"There, there, little love." I held onto her chin on the pretense of checking my work, but I just wanted to extend the contact. Imprint the memory of her soft skin and warmth to bring up later on the off chance that I’d never see her again. "Now, who am I making tea for?"
"Hello, Katy, I'm Lindy Rubin. What would you like in your tea?" I asked as I took the time to throw the washcloth in the laundry room off the kitchen. I quickly made us chamomile tea. She didn't need caffeine this late. By the time I was done, she still hadn't answered. I carried both cups to the island, placed one in front of her, and scooted the sugar cube container toward her.
I added a single cube to mine while I waited for her to get her thoughts together. The wheels were turning in her head. I could almost see her questioning why she was seated in a stranger's kitchen. I wasn't one who allowed someone to disobey me, whether that was at work or in my personal life. I wasn't ashamed of the fact that I craved being in control in every aspect of my existence.
"Is this the address your gentleman friend gave you?"
"Yes, I think. We'd been on a few dates already, and it seemed to be going well. I feel so stupid."
Her eyes turned teary again, and I didn’t like that. I wanted to see her smile and hear her laughter. She was the type of woman that deserved to have someone go above and beyond for her.
"For what? Believing you were going go on a third date with someone and then finding out they're, as you put it, an asshole?"
"I thought he liked me."
"His issue, not yours, little love. Feel better with your tea and your pretty face all clean?"
"Yes, thank you. I probably looked crazy showing up on your doorstep."
"Understandable, you were upset. I don't approve of you going to a strange man's home to confront him, but you're not mine. Because of that, I'll refrain from giving you a lecture."
"Yes, it was a foolish and dangerous decision. You've been on two dates with the man. Nowhere near enough time to know if he's suitable."
"I thought you weren't going to lecture." She frowned at me.
"If you think that's a lecture then you've never had a proper one before."
About the Author:
Siobhan Smile is an author of happily ever afters with a twist. They features characters of all sizes, shapes, sexualities, gender identities, and races. Reading a Siobhan Smile book lets you escape for a few hours whether that is to an alien world or a contemporary setting, you'll find something outside the norm. Writing books for Siobhan is more than simply telling a story, it's a way for everyone to see themselves get a HEA.
Alter ego of J.M. Dabney.
Where to Find Siobhan:
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/SiobhanSmileAuthor/ Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/smilesiobhan/ Bookbub - https://www.bookbub.com/profile/siobhan-smile Email - firstname.lastname@example.org