Kissing Kyle Read online

  Kissing Kyle

  An ABDL Slow Burn Romance

  Laurie Lochs

  Copyright © 2020 by Laurie Lochs

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Disclaimer:

  This book includes sexual content and role play such as “diaper” play. Every character is over 18.

  Contents

  Read First

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Epilogue

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  About the Author

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  Also by Laurie Lochs

  For Trésors

  Read First

  This is the second book in the Safe Boys series. It can be read as a standalone.

  Prologue

  “Look, Daddy. The train!”

  I grinned as Mark guided my hand to the little electric train set he’d bought me. With his help, I moved it around the track we’d set up together, and then I burrowed into his chest like he was my papa bear and he would keep me safe forever.

  “You’re doing such a good job, sweet boy. Daddy’s so proud of you.”

  My cheeks burned. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered, scrunching my eyes shut. I wanted to block out the world so I could see it more clearly in my mind.

  But a second later, Mark ran his finger across my cheek and opened my eyes. “Is it time for a snuggle movie, little one?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I cried, throwing my arms around him. I took a deep breath and inhaled his scent. From the cologne to the soft smell of man, everything about him was… Daddy.

  He led me out of the playroom he’d created and into the living room, where he quickly deposited me in the center of the couch while he rummaged through the closet for blankets. Before returning, he heated up a bottle for me in the microwave and let me run my fingers over it before he snuck the nipple in my mouth. When I’d finished my nighttime meal, he wrapped me in his arms and turned on the movie. My heart melted the minute I saw the screen. It was The Good Dinosaur, my favorite.

  I snuggled into him and placed my head on his chest. He set my favorite pacifier in my mouth and ran his fingers through my hair. My heart fluttered, as it had every day for the past six months.

  It made me feel so safe that I completely forgot there was a time when Mark almost wasn’t my Daddy at all…

  Chapter 1

  Kyle

  Six months earlier

  * * *

  “Boy,” he said in a low voice, pointing to the back office. I glanced around the empty restaurant and took a sharp breath. Nino, my boss of two months, had never spoken to me with such grave intensity, not ever.

  Fuck. Was I getting fired already?

  “Sir?”

  “Follow me, boy,” Nino said, nodding quietly. For a second, I thought it was because he didn’t want the customers to hear. But then I remembered we hadn’t had a single customer all afternoon and that for weeks the restaurant had been emptier than a goddamn Iggy Azalea concert, not that Nino knew who Iggy Azalea was. The point was the restaurant was emptier than shit. Fuck was right.

  Shedding my apron, I cautiously traced his footsteps to the back office. The second I entered, Nino closed the door and leaned against the desk. My heart filled with dread. I glanced into Nino’s weathered blue eyes, which told me everything I needed to know. I didn’t even need to ask.

  We just don’t have the funds, Kyle. I know you need this job. I’m so sorry.

  For an already struggling pizzeria like Nino’s, the coronavirus had been… Devastating. Whereas before, we might get a handful of late-night orders from hungry teens, now there were none of the students coming in from the local community college right around the corner, buying pizzas, soft drinks, and delicious Italian desserts that Nino’s wife made. For the last month, the only person eating pizza around here was me, but that was only because I got free slices during my shifts.

  “Kyle,” Nino said again, drawing out the y in my name for emphasis, “I don’t need to tell you we haven’t been doing well. Hell, there hasn’t been a new face in here all week. I hate to say it, but—”

  Oh, shit. Now comes the part where he tells me he’s oh-so-sorry to let me go. Right?

  “But—”

  This time, Nino really did try to spit it out, but the phone in the back office suddenly started to ring and so he stopped. His eyes shot away from mine. “One second, boy,” he said, beating a trail to the office. “I’ll be back.”

  I nodded quietly and found a seat by the door. My heart raced. It was only me and Nino, two guys against the world… Except soon, it would just be Nino. He’d already fired the rest of the staff last month, and so he was the only one making pizzas, working the dough and prepping the ingredients for lunches that would never be served. I knew that because I liked to watch him sometimes, but very secretly so he never saw me looking. He was a true professional. In fact he looked so professional that occasionally in the middle of the afternoon when the shop was empty I wondered what Nino was like as a younger man, building his pizza empire. In those moments, I pictured him sliding out of his apron, dusting his hands with flour, and whipping up a Nino’s Speciality for us to share under the stars. “Let’s get out of here,” he’d say in my fantasy, his young eyes aglow. “Let’s find a place and eat this all to ourselves, boy.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I’d whispered, staring intently into his eyes. “I would like that very much.”

  Other times, I imagined what Nino would look like without clothes, even now. What lay under that black button-down, the top button of which he never left undone? What could he teach me about life? I’d never caught so little as a glimpse of his chest. The man was well into his sixties, but something about him — was it the warmth in his eyes? — turned me on.

  Or did he turn me on because he almost reminded me of Mark Godin, the man I lived with five years ago who rescued me and my best friend Blakely from Safe Boys, the state-sponsored home I’d lived in after my mother had thrown me out like a broken TV? Though Mark wasn’t more than thirty-five, his eyes, when I lived with him, sometimes caught the light the same way as Nino’s and radiated warmth and loving kindness. In those moments, when I’d been little more than a tiny boy — not even old enough to drive — I wanted to penetrate those eyes with my bare hands, claw back the corneas so I might find the wells of fatherly love that lay underneath.

  Keyword: Fatherly love. Not Daddy love.r />
  Well… Mostly. My attraction to the man of the house had gone to a new level when his husband Bruce had left Blakely and I alone with him in their mansion one lonely Saturday night. Blakely, with cheeks glowing, and I, with a trembling heart, crept into Mark Godin’s dark room and tried to fondle him through the sheets. Well, Blakely wanted to touch him. All I’d wanted was a kiss.

  Of course his husband Bruce came home unannounced and ruined the entire thing. We were kicked out the next morning without so much as a goodbye.

  And so, following this unexpected change in circumstance, I decided to do the smart thing and give up older men. I sacrificed my desire for Daddies at the altar of common sense and good decision-making. In part, this was to impress Ms. Molly, the then-head of intake at Safe Boys, who I knew could open doors for me if I showed her I’d changed my ways. Blakely hadn’t been able to suppress his desires, and he’d gotten kicked out of five more homes… But I swore off older men forever.

  But here with Nino, alone in the back office for weeks on end… Well, shit. It had reignited my passion for men. I hated to admit it, but the truth was that I missed mature Daddies, even though I’d never actually been with one. Save for a little late-night tryst with Blakely in a tent during which I’d pretended that I was the Daddy, which I hated, I was pretty much a virgin. Yet my mind was anything but… I craved to be dominated, controlled, pinned to the bed by a firm, probing hand. I wanted to forget I had responsibilities, such as for instance taking care of Ma, the woman who’d welcomed me into her home after I returned from Emerson’s without a place to stay.

  But I was sick of it. Fed up with always pretending to be so secure, like I had everything in control when in reality my life, hopes, and dreams were falling apart at the seams. Sick of lying to the world about my true self. Sick of not having the money for binkies, and bottles, and bibs, and…

  Diapers.

  The one thing that helped me more than life itself, I couldn’t afford. I’d used the last of the pack I had with Blakely in the woods and didn’t have money to buy more. Diapers for littles like me were so much more expensive than regular diapers. I wished I could be an infant again, a real baby. To go back to the happiest time of my life, my childhood…

  When she’d been a stay-at-home Mom, my mother had given me the best childhood imaginable. She always took me to the theater and to art exhibits and we played all the time in parks. I even had a huge playroom all to myself, which we named “Kyle’s Kave,” which you knew by the giant sticker on the door. Sometimes, when I was too scared to go to bed, she would sing Irish lullabies like Tura Lura Lura she’d learned from her grandmother, a bonafide off-the-boat Irish immigrant who’d come to America during the Great Potato Famine. My mother sang these songs and did other things as well, such as read to me on the little butterfly rug we always sat on while exploring worlds found in books like the Cat in the Hat and Thomas the Tank Engine. I remember snuggling up to her lap as she taught me the ABCs and rocked me to sleep at night.

  But when my Dad grew abusive after getting fired for the hundredth time, she had no choice but to give me up. For a while, she’d tried to nanny for a rich family in Wayzata, Minnesota, and so she would sometimes take me to work; but when she got unexpectedly pregnant a second time, she’d had no choice but to deposit me at a local shelter and pray it would all work out.

  Or something.

  I wanted to find her. I needed to know her reasons for abandoning me. Surely, there was some kind of solution she could’ve found… Right? She didn’t need to give up so easily. She could’ve figured out a way to make it work.

  But before I saw her, I needed to find a Daddy. There was no way I’d be able to track her down on my own, not when I could barely help out Ma with the rent as it was. Though Emerson Lane had offered me money, I’d been too proud or stupid to take it, like Trevor. But that was only because I wasn’t like Blakely: I didn’t want a Daddy to escape from “real life.” I wanted to be a success story, not live alone in the woods, under the radar. My real estate course, which would start next week, was the first stepping stone on a long path to success that would hopefully help me become financially free.

  I wanted somebody to hold me down. Take control and give me the emotional support I needed. I didn’t care if they were rich.

  Well, if they could buy diapers, that would be a definite plus… But I didn’t need it.

  Because when I got my real estate license, I’d be able to buy my own damn diapers. And pacis. And crib, like Blakely had in his playroom, which he’d let me use two times — once, while Emerson changed me. Hell, someday I could even buy a Daddy.

  But that wasn’t my path. I wanted a playroom, but not Blakely’s.

  And if I couldn’t find a Daddy to help me on my journey, well… Fuck. I’d buy it on my own.

  Nino was still on his call. I was about to head to the bathroom when, suddenly, he set down the phone and returned with the saddest expression ever on his face.

  I stopped and stared at my boss. I suddenly wanted to throw myself at him and kiss him.

  “Kyle,” he said again, his voice barely audible beneath the office fan. “I just got off the phone with the accountant. Next Monday, I’m going to have to let you go.”

  Chapter 2

  Mark

  * * *

  “What about… Nino’s?” I said, waiting for my assistant Rachel to make up her mind. It was two o’clock on a Friday. Of course I was buying lunch for the office, because why not.

  “Nino’s?” she said, her voice tinged with mock derision. “Is that place even open?”

  I glared at her. “Okay, smart ass. That was my favorite spot in college.”

  “Mine, too,” she said, stifling a laugh. “It’s just that I haven’t been there since college. I didn’t think they were still around.”

  “Well,” I said, pulling up my phone one more time to check. She had a point. Most restaurants from the eighties were not still around. But Google let me know that, sure enough, Nino’s was still up and running. “You’re wrong.”

  Check mate, Rachel.

  “Please don’t make me eat pizza, Mark,” Rachel said with a pout, “you know I’m trying to lose weight. How am I ever going to find a sugar Daddy with—” she pointed to her stomach for emphasis “—with this?”

  I sighed and pivoted towards the door. “Rachel,” I said, “we’ve had sushi three times this week. And more salads then I can count. One slice of pizza won’t kill you.”

  My assistant groaned and rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said, “It’ll take me back to my college days. If they’ve got beer, I’d love a Coors Light with the ‘za.”

  I arched my eyebrows. “You are pushing it.”

  “What part? The beer?”

  “The ‘za, dumbass,” I said, sliding my Ray Bans over my face. “If you ever call it ‘za again, you’re fired. I’ll find a new assistant who’ll show Nino’s pizza a little respect.”

  Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but a second later, I pushed past the double doors and made my way into the afternoon light. I took a deep breath and welcomed the sunshine-tinged air into my lungs. I slid into my BMW and called Nino’s. “One large pepperoni for Mark,” I said, pulling out of the parking lot and turning onto Hennepin. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  “Okay, sir,” a timid voice said on the line, no doubt putting my order in the system. Except his voice barely came through, almost like I had a horrible connection which made it so I couldn’t hear what he was saying. So the second I hung up, I pulled to the side of the road and texted Rachel to find out what kind of deal we could get from Verizon.

  I glanced up at the morning traffic and grimaced. Yeah, it was going to be another fucking admin day. The first order of business was making sure I could hear my damn clients first.

  Going with Sprint had been my former husband’s idea. Back when we were still together, Bruce handled the part of the business that dealt with phone companies, technology, and marketing mater
ial — you know, the boring stuff I didn’t want to deal with. Though he worked full time as an orthodontist, he helped with the Pressure Free Agency — formerly the number one real estate brokerage firm in the Midwest — whenever he could. Perhaps I relied on him too much. Because when he left me five years ago, the business had damn near fallen apart.

  I settled into the plush leather seat and contemplated the grudge I still held towards my ex-husband. It was thick, gnarled, and hung over me like a cloud of imminent doom.

  But I wasn’t letting go of it anytime soon. Who the hell divorced their spouse over a misunderstanding? “Mark,” he’d said the night after the incident, “Mark, I knew it from the fucking start. You’re too close to the placements, Mark. This is the last straw.”

  “Jesus, Bruce,” I’d said in a last-ditch effort to prove my innocence, “I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t encourage it. For God’s sake, I love you. I wouldn’t touch a foster boy. Ever.”

  Bruce hadn’t believed me. Apparently, he thought I was a pedophile, a sick man who agreed to host fosters so he could groom them. He was perpetuating harmful stereotypes about gay men, even though he was gay himself — even though he liked baby things. Maybe that was why he’d been so goddamn oversensitive. He knew more than anyone that the ABDL community tried to distance itself as much as possible from pedophiles, because the two weren’t even remotely related. Adult babies liked wearing diapers and pretending to be little. Pedophiles liked children pretending to be big.