The next day in my office, I’m still ringing with her taste. I feel like I have her lodged under my skin, deep in the folds of my brain.

She knows what kind of man I am. I mean, she got a glimpse of it that night we first slept together. I’ve been taking it slow so far, taking it easy on her, but that darkness, that dominating, controlling beast is still inside of me. And the beast wants to be fed so desperately it almost hurts.

I haven’t felt like I wanted to take on a girl like this before. I want to be her Daddy, to take care of her, to give her things. In exchange, she’ll submit to me completely, give me every inch of her body, let me taste her whenever I please.

This is what I’ve always wanted, a beautiful woman to keep, to spoil, to tease. I don’t want a trophy wife, but I want a girl to call me Daddy and let me take her. In a lot of ways, the submissive is the equal of the dom. You can’t have a successful sub/dom relationship without a submissive who understands her place and her purpose, but also understands herself. Teagan needs to know what her limits are, and if she doesn’t, she needs to be willing to find out. She needs to be able to speak up when something goes too far without hesitation. She needs to have her own power in this dynamic, despite being the submissive.

It’s a complicated relationship, taking on a submissive like that. It’s not simple, far from simple, and that’s actually part of the appeal. I love how messy and complicated it can be, and with the right woman, there’s nothing more magical.

But I’ve never found the right woman, or at least the woman I want to keep for very long. I’ve had submissives before but they never last more than a few weeks at best before I’m ready to move on. There’s always something off, just not quite right.

With Teagan though, we click. We connect in a way I didn’t know we could. I don’t think she fully understands what it means to have me be her Daddy, but I want to teach her. I want to teach her so much.

The biggest problem right now is Felix. I lean back in my chair and look out my window at the high-rise buildings jutting up from the concrete down below like giants’ hands.

In a real sub/dom relationship, truth is of the utmost importance. I can’t imagine being with a woman like that, being vulnerable in a strange way, if she’s not being completely honest with me about everything. And I know there’s something more to Felix’s story that she’s not telling me.

I promised I wouldn’t ask her. But that doesn’t mean I can keep waiting for her to finally tell me what the deal is. I want to move forward, but I can’t do it with this issue still standing between us.

I pull out my old address book. Its faded leather cover is starting to crack and split, and I haven’t used it in years. All of my numbers and stuff have been in my cellphone, except for this one. Because I haven’t had to call this number in almost ten years. It’s not the sort of number that I want to put into an electronic record.

I find the page I need and look at the number. I don’t even know if he’s still practicing, but I bet he is. Back then, he wasn’t all that much older than me, maybe ten years at most.

I dial the number, feeling strangely nervous. It rings for a minute, and I’m about to hang up, assuming that he doesn’t use this number anymore, when the line suddenly clicks.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Nick Steel?”

“The one and only.” I recognize his voice, though it’s gotten a touch more gravel to it, probably since the guy smokes like a chimney. “How can I help you?”

Nick Steel is a private investigator. He has ties to a ton of underground criminal organizations and he’s supposedly one of the best, or at least he used to be. I was put in touch with him by a cousin of mine, a gambling addict with friends in the Italian mafia. We used Nick when we were starting out to research the opposition for us. He was thorough and impressive, finding dirt in places we never thought dirt would exist. We stopped using him when the company took off, but I never lost his number.

“Nick, this is Declan Jones. We worked together years ago.”

He laughs softly. “I remember you. I’ve been keeping an eye on you boys.”

“Have you?”

“Of course. I never forget an old client, especially not one that’s been so successful. I was wondering if you’d ever call me again.”

“Well, we’ve been really fortunate these past few years,” I say, somewhat uncomfortable. The idea that Nick’s been watching us puts me a little on edge. “I haven’t needed your services.”

“Until now,” he says.

“Right, until now.”

“What’s the job?”

I hesitate a second. I’m suddenly rethinking this decision. I don’t know if I can trust Nick at all, although he hasn’t given me any reason to distrust him. He didn’t exactly do anything illegal for us back in the day, but definitely some questionable things. If he went public with some of the info, he could easily hurt our company. I bet he could blackmail us if he really wanted, and I’m sure he has records of everything he did. He hasn’t, and so that makes me think he values his professional integrity over a quick buck.

“It’s a personal issue,” I say.

“Ah,” he answers, a knowing sound. “Cheating girlfriend?”

“No,” I say.

“Partner getting a sex change?”

“What? No. Why would I need you for that?”

He ignores me. “Angry stalker? Killed a hooker by mistake? Really into fire play and burned down a garage?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Do people do any of that stuff?”

“You’d be surprised.”

I sigh and kick my feet up on the cabinet behind my desk. “It’s my, uh, girlfriend’s son,” I say. It feels weird to call Teagan my girlfriend. I don’t think we have that official title, but I don’t know what else to call her right now. Plus, it feels good to say that. I have to admit, I like it.

“What about him?”

“I think he’s my son,” I say. “We spent a night together a couple years ago, and her son seems like he’s the right age.”

“I see,” he says like he’s heard it all before. “What else makes you think the kid’s yours?”

“Looks like me,” I say. “And she refuses to talk about the father.”

“Ah, I see.” It sounds like he’s writing something down. “Names?”

“Her name is Teagan Fisher, and the son’s name is Felix Fisher.”

“Got it.” He goes silent for a second. “One hundred an hour plus expenses.”

“Fine,” I say.

“I’ll figure this one out as fast as I can. In the meantime, hang tight and wait for me to call. You’ll get detailed expense reports.”

“Understood. Thanks, Nick.”

“Happy to help.” Another short pause. “Just so I know, do you want him to be your son or not?”

I raise an eyebrow. I actually hadn’t even thought about it, to be totally honest. The question of wanting him never really came up.

But now that he asks…

“Yeah, I think I do,” I say.

“Good. Easier that way. Talk soon.” He hangs up without another word.

I sit there in my chair staring at the phone. I just learned something about myself, something I didn’t really know.

I knew I’d step up and do the right things, help her out financially, take him on weekends, shit like that. I’d be an active father in his life if I knew about him from the start. But I thought I’d be doing all of that just because it’s the right thing to do.

But apparently I want a son. Maybe it’s just because I’d be closer to her that way, more a part of her life. Or maybe the thought of being a father itself makes me happy.

It’s strange. I never once thought about children before. All it took was some random private investigator to ask me one question, and now my whole world feels like it’s flipped upside down.