Touch: The Complete Series Read online

  Touch

  Copyright © 2017 by Cara Dee

  All rights reserved

  Edited by Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC.

  Disclaimer: This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold 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 a work of fiction. All references to ancient or historical events, persons living or dead, locations, and places are used in a fictional 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: These novels contain scenes of an explicit, erotic nature and are intended for adults 18+. Characters portrayed in sexual situations are 18 or older.

  Before diving into the world of BDSM, research, turn to your local community, and be aware of the risks. The author of Touch adheres to RACK; Risk-Aware Consensual Kink, and PRICK; Personal Responsibility, Informed Consensual Kink.

  Formatted by Rachel Lawrence.

  The Touch Series

  &

  Behind the Scenes

  Book I: Look but Don't Touch

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Behind the Scenes: Touching Truth, Part I

  Book II: Twice the Touch

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Book III: Touch to Surrender

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Behind the Scenes: Touching Truth, Part II

  Book IV: Touch of Trouble

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Behind the Scenes: The First Touch

  Behind the Scenes: Losing His Touch

  Behind the Scenes: Touching Truth, Part III

  Behind the Scenes: The Touch of a Sadist

  Book V: Comforting Touch

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Behind the Scenes: Touching Truth, Part IV

  Behind the Scenes: Out of Touch

  Book VI: Touching Ink

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Behind the Scenes: Symbolic Touches

  Behind the Scenes: Touched by the Ever After

  Behind the Scenes: Touching Truth, Part V

  Epilogue: The Winning Touch

  Acknowledgments

  Lisa, Stephanie, Rachel, Deb, Adèle, L.J., the Sadists in my life, Eliza, my friends, my dirty crew, my readers. Stay kinky!

  Look but Don’t Touch

  Chapter 1

  Nicholas Ford

  Goddammit. Amanda launches into her next tantrum as soon as I exit the bathroom.

  "I really don't understand why you have to show your face at Switch so often." The distaste is clear in her voice. "Thank goodness you're not into that BDSM lifestyle. It's disgusting."

  Indeed, thank goodness…

  Safe to say, telling her I'm very much involved in that lifestyle—or used to be—wouldn’t go over well. To her, I'm merely an entrepreneur, a club owner. I have five of them here in the Bay Area, in one of which I met Amanda four months ago, but Switch is most definitely my baby. At this stage of my life, it's the only place I can breathe.

  "And I really don't understand why I would have to explain how this works again," I tell her pointedly. "It's my job, for chrissakes."

  Reentering my bedroom after my shower, I walk into my closet and pick out what to wear. I can hear Amanda; she's fled to the kitchen where she's slamming cupboards and pulling out pans with way too much force. She has no reason to be upset, in my opinion. I told her countless times I would be unable to spend time with her family tonight, yet when today arrived, she thought I was "tactless" if I didn’t go with her.

  I don’t see the issue. I will meet her family tomorrow at her sister's wedding; she can go to the rehearsal dinner by herself. I'd go with her, obviously, if I hadn't had this event planned for months.

  Whatever she is doing in the kitchen is just an attempt to gain attention, seeing as the rehearsal dinner is only an hour away. Less than that, even.

  It's what I get for letting my family's incessant talk of leaving bachelorhood behind get to me. That, and loneliness. "You're thirty-six years old, dear. You're not getting any younger." After one particularly gruesome chat with my mother, I surrendered and went out. I went vanilla. I met Amanda.

  I became miserable too, but that’s my own fault.

  You know what you should do.

  I suppress a sigh.

  I'm not blind. We're heading in that direction, regardless. This won't last. I don’t have enough willpower, and Amanda wasn’t lying when she implied I'm at Switch often. Perhaps a bit more than my job requires.

  After tucking in my button-down, I hesitate upon inspecting my ties. In the end, I decide to skip it. On a night like this, I need to be comfortable, which is kind of ironic. Since abandoning D/s, tonight's event will most definitely leave me uncomfortable.

  I suppose I'm a glutton for punishment, but I'm aching to at least watch. Sure, making an appearance is important; however, I can't deny that I want to be there. It's the only aspect of my old life I have left, and I find myself clinging to it desperately.

  My phone dings on my nightstand, so I walk over and check to find a message from Cade. I assume he's already at the club.

  Who's the new boy? Southern accent, complete goofball.

  I smirk and respond.

  You sniffed him out fast, my friend. His name is Dylan. Recently moved here.

  By the time I've put on socks and shoes, he's replied.

  Is he a relationship guy? I wouldn’t mind some casual playtime.

  "Good grief," I mutter to myself. I'm not the only Top in my circle of friends a bit too jaded and settling for the wrong things. Cade's right there with me, a fellow Daddy Dom who recently got out of a toxic relationship.

  I don't know him well yet. I'd be careful.

  After texting him once more, telling him I'll be around tonight, I pocket my phone and return to the bathroom.

  A while later, I'm back in my bathroom. Leaning closer to the mirror, I inspect my freshly shaved face, and I can't help but grimace. To my dismay, my age is beginning to show. A bit of gray stands out against the brown. The corners of my eyes crinkle more than before when I smile. Though, I frown mor
e than smile nowadays. My body may be in great condition, but that matters little when I'm barely content. I stand tall at six-two, yet I feel hunched.

  Hopefully, I will be in good spirits after tonight. I just need a dose of what my past used to offer. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.

  "Nick!" Amanda calls. "Are you ready to go?" She appears in the doorway, her blond hair bouncing lightly with her movements. "You're handsome." There's a small smile on her lips, but I can see she's still upset.

  "And you look pretty," I reply automatically as I fasten my watch.

  She's already tall at five-ten, so the high heels are unnecessary if you ask me. Then again, I'm more into delicate ballet flats when it comes to girls—women. In my past, I've been involved in what my Littles wear, and now it feels odd to only offer an opinion. Not only that, but it has to be complimentary.

  In an extremely revealing blue dress, Amanda does look attractive; it's just not something I would've chosen for her. Or the blood-red nail polish. Because I don’t go for bold colors when there are pastels.

  I want soft cotton, coy smiles, adorable giggles, a round little bottom, baby smooth skin, pigtails, pert tits, and pleas for Daddy's thick cock.

  I almost have to close my eyes and take calming breaths to rein it in.

  "So, are you ready to go?" she asks again, tapping her foot. "We could share a cab."

  I shake my head and roll up the sleeves on my shirt. "I'm not drinking tonight, so I'm driving. If you want, I can drop you off at the hotel."

  "Sounds good," she agrees, and we leave the bathroom. "By the way, we still need to talk more about my moving in here."

  This again.

  "I've already told you it's way too soon." I clench my jaw and pocket my keys, phone, and wallet. She is here all the time, and I don’t mind it—much. The ad agency she runs is just a five-minute walk from here, so I see the convenience.

  "Too soon," she scoffs. "Be serious, Nick. It's time. We're not getting any younger."

  I cringe, disappointed I fell for that line when it was my mother who said it. Now it only grates on my nerves. We're hardly old.

  "That’s not a reason to rush into things. Especially not if we argue as often as we do." I shake my head, refusing to get sucked into this now. "I don’t have time for this. Let's go."

  "Fine," she grits out. "But we're talking about it soon. We need to move forward, not take steps backward."

  I pretend I don’t hear that and walk toward the hallway, wondering how long I can take this—the faking, the pretending everything is okay.

  It worked swimmingly for about two months, and I foolishly believed I loved her. We even exchanged the dreadful words, something I regret. It's not fair to either of us.

  I've cared for her; I've enjoyed spending time with her, she's good in bed—albeit a little too demanding for my tastes—and I've agreed to meet her family, but the good hasn't outweighed the bad in over a month. We're destined to crash and burn, yet she talks of moving forward—together.

  *

  About fifteen minutes later, we're on our way in my car, and while the silence is fine by me, it's not for Amanda. I'm still irritated beyond words.

  She, on the other hand, starts yapping about her family as if we didn’t just have an argument.

  Perhaps it's the excitement of seeing her family again. Only her sister and she live here in San Francisco; the rest reside in Oregon. But everyone is down for Amber's wedding tomorrow. It will be the first time I meet any of them.

  And last. You can't deny that anymore.

  "…but we call her Drifter." Amanda chuckles wryly about another cousin of hers. "I swear, that girl is always on the move. Last I heard, she lived in Florida." She sighs and looks out the window. "We can only hope she won't make another spectacle. Last time we all got together, she caused a scene and stormed out, just because we didn’t agree on something. So immature."

  I hum in acknowledgment, pretending to listen, and stop at a red light. I can't help it, really, but my mind is occupied with thoughts about tonight—and not Amanda's night. We have themed events at Switch every month, and it's been a long time since that theme was for Daddy Doms and Littles. The closest we've come recently was a few months ago when Fetish Night was about spanking, and many Daddies showed up with their little ones.

  Chapter 2

  When I enter my club, it's buzzing with anticipation. I'm relieved, being in a place where I can finally let go and be myself. I greet several friends and acquaintances on the way, and I try to keep my eyes off the submissives, many of them wearing frilly dresses or just skimpy underthings. Looking is obviously allowed, but merely being here is tempting enough. If I were smart, I'd stay out here in the lobby, or maybe even hide out upstairs in my office. If I were smart…

  The club area, square-shaped with high ceilings and kept deliberately dark, is simply furnished, the only decoration being erotic photos on the walls. The main seating area is to the left when I enter; I nod hello to Cade and a couple others before heading right to the bar.

  Contraptions such as a St. Andrew's Cross, benches, a leather sling, and suspension bars take up most of the space beyond the dance floor, which bothers me lately. We're getting more and more members, and it's not uncommon for kinksters to complain about the lack of space for scening.

  "Evening, my friend." I greet Mark, one of my bartenders and a close friend, and order a tonic water with lime. We talk a little while I survey the club, and he mentions that his divorce has been finalized. "That’s a relief," I note. "You settling into your new place all right?"

  "It's a damn haven," he chuckles wryly.

  I can imagine.

  The rock music playing is loud, though not so loud that I have to shout to be heard, and I smile, satisfied with the large crowd. The dance floor may be pretty empty, but this isn't a night for dancing. The booths are full, and a few groups of people have already gathered near the demo platform by the eastern wall.

  "Um, hi! May I have a Sprite, please?" a happy voice asks Mark. Tilting my head, I see a young woman, definitely a Little, standing there. Her lush, auburn hair is gathered in two low pigtails, long enough to reach past her ample cleavage. Her baby-doll dress is both innocent and provocative as hell. In light yellow with white lace, it's cute. But the way it pushes her tits together shoves "innocent" out the window. It's also short, ending right below her ass, and exposes her sexy legs. Fuck. White cotton kneesocks. Flat Mary Jane shoes that match her dress.

  She's fair-skinned, delicate-looking, but her eyes… I chuckle quietly to myself and take a sip from my tonic. Her pale blue eyes have a spark of mischievousness in them.

  "Here you go, hon," Mark says, and he's about to tell her the price when I wave it off. He smirks and nods once. "Never mind, then."

  The girl turns in my direction, smiles shyly, and gives me a small curtsy. "Thank you for the drink, Sir."

  "You're very welcome." I incline my head and smile. Happy and bubbly have been replaced by demure and coy, and I'd be a liar if I said I wasn’t attracted to her. As long as I'm only looking…

  "Um." She fidgets with her glass. "Are you here alone?"

  "I am." It's technically true.

  "Oh." Her head bobs in a small nod, eyes focused on her drink. "I see."

  Leaning closer, I ask, "Hasn't Daddy told you not to speak to strangers, little one?"

  "I'm here alone, too. I have no rules." She meets my gaze and juts out her chin. How cute. I think this one has a stubborn streak in her. That makes me yearn even more. "There aren't only couples here, you know."

  "I'm aware," I concede with a laugh. Of course unattached people come here. "You're a sassy one, aren't you?" And she doesn’t have a Daddy to take care of her or keep her in line? Christ.

  "Shit, sorry." In the faint glow of the spotlights behind the bar, her cheeks flush scarlet. She looks down again and shuffles her feet. "The Daddy I had in Texas told me I was a brat sometimes. I'm really sorry, Sir."

 
When she once again meets my gaze, it feels like she could make Bambi look evil. Because this girl's doe eyes have to be the most beautiful ones I've ever seen. I also realize she has to be very young. Age difference has never bothered me, but I've never had a Little Girl more than five or six years younger than I.

  "No reason to apologize, sweet girl. I happen to enjoy brats." Taking a step closer, I set down my drink and silently ask for her hand. She offers it straightaway, and I hold it in both of mine. "I'm Nicholas Ford."

  Her eyes grow wide. "K-Kayla Brandon," she stutters. "Did you—I mean…Nicholas Ford, as in—this is your c-club?"

  I nod, a bit amused to see her so flustered. "That’s correct."

  "Oh," she exhales. "Chelsea—a friend of mine in New York, she told me I had to come here. She said this is the best BDSM club in San Francisco. Crap, sorry, I'm rambling." She cringes. "I blame jet lag."

  I laugh through my nose and give her hand a squeeze. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Kayla. I take it you're new in town?"

  "Yes, Sir. I just got back from visiting a friend in Spain. Before that, I was in Florida, and now I'm here." She blows out a breath before taking a big gulp of her Sprite. "I'm thinking about moving here. I don’t know. I have some family here, but they hardly count—" She grimaces. "And now you know a bunch of stuff you never asked for." I grin as she rolls her eyes at herself. "Rewind. Yes, Sir. I'm new in town."

  "Too cute." I chuckle and tap her on the nose. She flushes again. "If you're here for the scenes later, I hope you enjoy." I take a step back. "I'll be around, so if you need me, don’t hesitate. Okay?" I dip down a little to come face-to-face with her. She's a short one, with a small frame, yet she's curvy, plump, and gorgeous.

  "Thank you," she responds shyly.

  With a light touch to her cheek, I leave her to socialize, as is my job here tonight. My club manager is obviously here too, but for events such as this one, I like to show my face as well.

  *

  Two hours later, I disappear upstairs into my office to calm down for a while. A couple from Los Angeles just finished a scene involving the whipping bench, and when I saw Kayla in the crowd, watching intently, it was almost too difficult for me to remain where I was.