Touch of Trouble Read online

  Touch of Trouble

  Copyright © 2013 by Cara Dee

  Edited by Lisa A. Hollett

  Disclaimer: This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is fictitious. All references to ancient, historical events, persons living or dead, locations and places are used in a fictitious manner. Any other names, characters, incidents and places are derived from the author’s own imagination. Similarities to persons living or dead, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Warning: This story contains scenes of an explicit, erotic nature and is intended for adults, 18+. Characters portrayed are 18 or older. If you're interested in the BDSM lifestyle in any form, please tread carefully, and don’t dive in head first. Research, research, research. And reach out to people with experience for guidance.

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  Special thanks go out to Lisa, Deb, and my readers. If it weren't for you, I wouldn’t have my dream job, and I wouldn’t have made so many new friends.

  Touch of Trouble

  #4 in the Touch Series

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  Previously in the Touch Series

  #1. Look but Don't Touch (Nicholas's point of view.)

  #2. Twice the Touch (Mark's point of view.)

  #3. Touch to Surrender (Brayden's point of view.)

  The books are best read in order, as some plots follow throughout the series.

  Chapter 1

  Kayla Brandon

  When a waiter arrives at our cabana on the beach with breakfast, I stay quiet as Daddy takes care of everything. Instead I focus on tying the two ends of my white bikini around my neck, and then get my hair up in a high, messy bun at the top of my head.

  I do not want to get sunscreen in my hair later. It gets all sticky. After a week in the sun, my hair is more red than brown, and a few golden highlights have appeared.

  This is our last day in Mexico, and Daddy's family flew home yesterday. It was fun to see them again, especially his sisters, Lissa and Sydney, who've warmed up to me since last time. At first they were wary of our fourteen-year age gap, but it's all good now.

  I've tried to make Daddy extend our stay, but he's set on our flying to Oregon tomorrow. No matter how much I've bribed, whined, bitched, begged, and bargained, he stands firm. He wants us to get it out of the way so we can move on.

  Silly man. Why can't we move on without seeing my family? Ugh.

  Especially that damn Amanda.

  "Come here and eat your breakfast, Kayla."

  Scooting closer to the middle of the large, U-shaped couch that basically takes up the entire cabana, I end up next to him, and he's got everything set up on the small table in front of us.

  "Do you want me to cut the crusts off your toast?"

  I nod and lean my head on his shoulder. "Yes, please." It's pretty early, so I'm still tired.

  I intend to make the most of our last day, though, which was why I dragged Daddy down here before eight o'clock. But he didn’t protest; he just changed into his black board shorts, grabbed the book he's reading, and then we headed down to the lobby, booked ourselves a cabana, and ordered breakfast.

  "Something wrong, sweetheart?"

  I place a hand on my tummy and pout up at him. "Maybe I'm getting sick."

  "Nice try." His mouth twists into a smirk. "Does that mean you're too sick to go swimming later?"

  Dammit. I scowl and look at my plate, grabbing a triangle of toast he's prepared with butter and jam. I adore swimming here, 'cause the water is so gorgeous. Crystal clear, turquoise, and the sand is almost completely white. Also, if I'm sick, we won't be able to scout for a location for our wedding next summer.

  Nicholas's proposal in Venice just a few weeks ago was so beautiful that it made me cry; it was romantic, heartfelt, and made this girl's dreams come true. Maybe it was clichéd to some: a romantic dinner at a family-owned restaurant, a gondola ride under the Bridge of Sighs at sunset, and lastly a proposal back at the hotel room where he went down on one knee and asked me to marry him, asked me to be his wife, his baby girl, and his love forever…but perhaps with our less-than-ordinary lifestyle, that proposal was perfect for us. It certainly was for me.

  My next dream is to get married on a beach, which he said he'd like to do, too. So, we decided that we're going to invite our closest friends and family down here to Mexico next July for a few days of festivities. It'll also be around the one-year anniversary of the day we met.

  "Some food might make me feel better." I backtrack and smile sweetly.

  He chuckles and takes a sip from his coffee as he unfolds the newspaper he ordered to be delivered with breakfast. "Somehow I'm not surprised you'd say that." He flips a page, all while I worry the pristinely white sofa's gonna be all smudgy from the paper. "You should probably watch yourself, though. There's only so much manipulation I can take."

  Oh, crap.

  "I love you." I make sure to maintain my sweet smile.

  He doesn’t turn my way, but I do see the edges of his mouth slanting up a little. "Mmhmm. Love you too, baby girl."

  I huff and cram some toast into my mouth, realizing he still won't budge.

  Not only are we definitely going to Oregon tomorrow, but I'm evidently healthy as a horse.

  There's just no playing Nicholas Ford.

  Then again, was there ever? From the start of our relationship back in July, I've known he's the perfect man and Daddy for me. He's a strict sweetheart; he lets me roam around and talk to people, because I love that—I'm a people person—but he doesn’t take my bullshit.

  There's an invisible leash, which he holds on to 24/7. Regardless of being my fiancé or my Daddy, he's in charge. The only difference, really, is that he gives me more leeway when we're Nicholas and Kayla.

  Vacation spots blur the lines; I'm good at throwing out the Daddy card, because it feels so natural. At the same time, he coddles me more when we're in a foreign place, so we're even. But at home, it's more distinct. We have separate times for play, though everything remains negotiable. We prefer it flexible.

  This has been my lifestyle since I was eighteen and discovered BDSM and my kind of kink, but it isn't until now that I feel like I've finally found all the aspects I want. With one man, I had a strict Daddy/Little Girl arrangement, and while it satisfied my body, it left my mind tired because I was worried he'd get sick of me. With another man, he wanted to leave the lifestyle behind him eventually; he said he was just into role-playing, and that's so not me. I can't leave a part of me behind. It's not all about play. It's who I am, to an extent. I need that bond, that real attachment, which I finally have with Nicholas.

  "You know," I muse a few minutes later, "if I'd had more time in Mexico, I would've done my Christmas shopping here. That would make for some fun presents, huh?"

  He doesn’t miss a beat. "Too bad you did your shopping back in November, then—and even before that."

  My shoulders slump in defeat. "May I go swimming now, please?"

  He folds his newspaper and puts it aside, then sighs and places an arm around me. "You've barely eaten anything." There's a frown in his voice. "Do you want me to order something else?"

  Feeling bad, I shake my head and swipe up another triangle of toast. "No, thank you. This is really good." No lie. I just crave the water. Swimming is fun, especially when Daddy joins. "I'll eat some more. Then can I go?" I peer up at him.

  He smiles and kisses my nose. "After you've let the meal
settle, yes. We need to get sunscreen on you, too."

  I nod, tilting my head up some more, and brush my lips over his scruffy jaw.

  It's not often I see him with scruff.

  He's told me that before he met me, he usually wore jeans—unless he was working in some of his fancier clubs—didn’t shave every day, and had begun to let go of the style he really preferred. But now…? I mean, he's always impeccably dressed in sexy suits, clean-shaven, obviously not counting vacations, and the last time I saw him in jeans was when we had a barbecue at home before it got too cold outside.

  "You need sunscreen, too." I softly run my fingers through his fairly short hair. In his chestnut brown mess, slightly rumpled from sleep, there're a few strands of silver, and I happen to find them incredibly sexy.

  Great. Now I'm getting horny.

  *

  "Is something wrong, Daddy?" I ask, swimming circles around him. "You seem distracted."

  There're pretty fish by his feet, but I don’t wanna get too close. Just to look at them. Not touch. Or get bitten and die.

  "Definitely not wrong." He pulls me close and makes me squeal when he dunks us underwater.

  "Hey!" I splutter and laugh and push my hair back. He just grins. "That wasn’t funny." But I'm laughing…

  "I can see that." He chuckles.

  Humming happily, I lock my feet around his hips and lean back in the ocean and disappear under the surface for just a couple seconds. Then I hoist myself up again and wipe some water off my face. "I was thinking… What kind of girl would make Rio happy?"

  When Evangeline called a few days ago and told me that Brayden had finally surrendered to Mark, I'd nearly cried with joy for them. They deserve all the happiness they can find, and now I want the same for Rio. He often looks so lonely to me.

  "Planning another matchmaking project?" He squeezes my bottom and pulls me closer so I can feel his semi-hard cock. Good thing there aren't people around! I'm all for public play, but this is kind of a family resort.

  "I hope so." I trace the drops of water on his sun-kissed shoulders with my fingers. "I've barely even seen him play at the club." All I know is that he is very strict. At Switch, subs call him Master Kelly or Master Rio…and if they don’t?

  Yikes.

  It's when only Daddy's around—or my subbie friends—that I dare to refer to Rio by his first name. But at the same time, there's something gentle about him. It's tough to explain. He can be funny and carefree; other times he's quiet and withdrawn.

  "Perhaps he's not ready yet." Daddy brushes some water drops away from my cheek, and I nestle my face into his palm. "He hasn't been back for that long."

  True. Rio's job must've given him nightmares. I can't imagine traveling to some jungle—in hostile territory—and offering so much of myself to help others. It's beyond noble, but I'd be so scared! I'm not that gutsy. But Rio clearly is, and I want to see him happy.

  "What kind of relationship did he have with his fiancée?" I'm curious. Rio's fiancée…I know she died in some kind of accident several years ago, but that’s about it. Her death was what caused Rio to uproot his life and join Doctors Without Borders.

  "Vanilla."

  "Really?" That surprises me. I don’t know Rio that well yet, but to me he's so…Master-y.

  "Most people believe he's still mourning her…" He slowly moves us toward the shore. We're pretty far out. My feet can't even reach the ocean floor. "But that’s not necessarily all there is to it. They were having problems when she died." Oh, that’s so sad. "About ten years ago, he went through the same thing I did when I settled for Amanda." I grimace at that, to which Daddy smiles ruefully and nips at my jaw. "Rio came back from a medical seminar in New York and said it was time for him to settle down. Before New York, he'd been raving about how single life suited him, so perhaps something happened there."

  I scrunch my nose. "Didn’t you ask him about it?"

  "I asked; he said he didn’t want to talk about it."

  Ugh. Men. "You should've pushed." I playfully smack his arm. "That’s what friends do."

  "It was ten years ago, baby girl." He laughs quietly and nuzzles my neck. By now, we're closer to the beach, and the water would reach my chest if I'd let go of him. "Whatever happened back then isn't exactly breaking news today."

  "Okay, okay." I sigh. "Speaking of New York, I wanna call Chelsea when we get back to the room." She's my friend from New York, and she's the one who told me I had to visit Switch if I ever came to San Francisco. Best advice ever! And she's joining us in Cali soon.

  "And right now, I don’t want to talk at all." He reaches up to cup my breasts. It makes me giggle and squirm. "Let's get back to the cabana."

  Keeping my arms and legs locked around him, he carries me out of the water, and I feel his hardening cock the entire time. It's pressing against my pussy, exciting me in the best ways.

  "Do you want to play Go Fish?" I ask innocently.

  He laughs a little darkly as we enter the cabana and closes the white fabric behind us. "No. That’s not what I had in mind." After lowering me to one side of the big sofa, he pulls down his trunks, exposing himself to me, but he doesn’t stay that way. From the other side of the sofa, he grabs a towel and wraps it around his hips. "You haven't forgotten your safeword, have you?"

  My mouth forms an "o" as my cheeks heat up. I only need a safeword if we're going to play rough.

  "N-no, Daddy." My voice is all shaky. Arousal rushes around in my tummy, and I get butterflies. Horny butterflies. "It's red." One of the first things I discovered with Daddy is that he likes reluctance sometimes. He wants me to fight him. Sort of like a rape fantasy, only a tad gentler and with no violent intentions.

  Usually, he wants it when I've been a bad girl. He fucks me into a good little girl again, and it always works. But today…perhaps he wants to let off some steam? Because I haven't been bad, have I?

  We do have a few trying days ahead of us, so we might need this. And I'll never back down from playtime that allows me to sink deeper into the Little I really am. It cleanses me, in a way.

  "Time for your nap, sweetheart." He sits down on the edge of the sofa and reaches around me to untie my bikini top. I can see in his eyes that he's started playing. He needs a reason now—a reason to go rough. "When you wake up, I'll order lunch."

  I scowl as he tosses my bikini on the table. "I'm not sleepy." I fold my arms over my chest and jut out my chin. If he wants a brat, I'll give him one! I don’t exactly have to struggle to find the brat in me. She's very much alive and kicking, still mad about our going to Oregon tomorrow. "Stop." I whine when he pulls down my bikini bottoms. "Daddy, I can do it myself!" I shove at him petulantly.

  "Be quiet," he snaps.

  I stick out my tongue at him. "You dummy."

  He raises a brow, then points to the floor in front of the table. "Get over there. Now."

  Sulking, I make my way to the floor and give him another scowl over my shoulder.

  "Bend over and hold on to your ankles." A command.

  As I obey, I feel him coming up behind me. He strokes my bottom. He kneads it. He spanks it. I yelp and cringe, then whine as he rubs out the sting. He's being such a meanie!

  "Stand still." His voice is gruff and quiet. "You've had this coming for days, Kayla."

  I snarl. "I've done nothing wrong." My wet hair gets in my face, so I try to blow it out of the way, but it doesn’t work. I give up with a huff. "I've been a good girl."

  "Have you?" He hmphs and slides a finger down to my kitty. Wet already. I'm such a hussy. "If I remember correctly, you've been sneaky a few times." Uh-oh. "Or haven't you tried to get out of the trip to Oregon? Haven't you been a brat?"

  Um. "No?" I squeak. In response, he spanks me again. "Ow! That hurts." I whimper and try to squirm away, though he holds me fast. The next thing I see is his towel being dropped to the floor. "Please, please, please, Daddy! I'll be good. I'll be good. You don’t have to—" Before I can even finish the sentence, he grab
s my hips and rams his cock so deep inside my pussy that it steals my breath. My mouth pops open, but no sound escapes.

  "Did Daddy's cock shut you up, baby girl?"

  Unable to form a coherent response, I let out a breathless wail, my nails digging in to my ankles so I don’t lose my grip.

  For several minutes, he fucks me like that. He has me at his mercy. Doubled over. His hard cock slamming and drilling deeper. His hands holding me in place, even pulling me back on his erection with some thrusts. There's my whining—and the few moans I can't hold back—Daddy's heavy breathing, the sound of skin slapping, and the wetness I can't hide.

  "Remember your safeword?" He pants, abruptly withdrawing from my pussy. I nod pitifully and sag against him as he pulls me to a stand. "Good. Lie down on the couch again."

  The second my back hits the cushions, he settles between my legs, places a hand near my head, guides his cock to my opening, and pushes forward.

  "Too much!" I cry out, to which he clamps a hand over my mouth. "No, stop! Stop, Daddy!" My sounds are muffled, but he can still hear them.

  I think he senses that I can handle a lot more—that my "reluctance" is too practiced—so he speeds up and goes harder. Wrapping his fingers around both my wrists, he gathers my restrained hands above my head. With his free hand, he begins to pinch my nipples, and he tells me that if I scream or become too loud, he'll bring out his belt when we get back to the hotel room.

  I don’t want his belt. It really stings!

  Each slide of his big cock inside me is like feeding me Viagra for girls; I'm soaking wet, and there's nothing I can do about it. But the pinches, the rough squeezes, and the sharp nips of his teeth…they always confuse me. A part of me needs it, and even wants it, but another part doesn’t. I'm swimming in indecision, which leaves me vulnerable and easier for him to dominate. It's what ultimately makes me yield.

  In a final effort, I try to push him away. I shove at his shoulders and claw at his skin. He tries to kiss me, but I turn away and snarl at him.

  "Feisty little baby slut, aren't you?" He hisses in my ear, sending tingles down my spine. "I think I've let you be a brat for too long, Kayla." The hand that isn't restraining my own hands slides under me and cups my butt. "Haven't I told you that I will always take care of you? Haven't I told you that I'll do what's best for you?" He lets out a gritty moan as he continues to pump into me. "Yet, for the past few days…you've questioned me, begged me, been manipulative…"