Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“That’s a great idea.” The relief in Sophia’s voice is palpable. “And don’t think I didn’t notice your slip up there. It’s okay for you to call Theo’s house your house, too. You live there. He wants you to think of it as yours.”
“I know. It’s just hard,” I say softly.
“I get it, but I think it’s time you believe him and take the plunge. I’m just offering you advice since you’ve offered me some.”
I smile. “Thank you, Sophia.”
Sophia giggles and then abruptly changes the subject, her voice lighter and silly. “Do you think Tate likes blue hair because I’m not changing my style to please any man. If he wants me to look more normal, he’s asking the wrong woman.”
Chapter Twelve
After I finish talking to Sophia, I focus on my math assessment, but it’s hard. I’m restless. I’m glad when it’s finally over so I can pace. I keep thinking about how I almost said this was my house. It’s not my house. Is it? It’s not as though I have another dwelling. Daddy ended my lease and moved my things out of my studio apartment last week. I didn’t own much, but he packed it up and brought several boxes back here. The furniture wasn’t worth keeping.
It was stressful and made me nervous, especially since I didn’t even go with him. He offered, but he also suggested it might be easier on me to stay home.
Home… That word again.
I don’t think this is all a dream. I’m reminded of that every time I forget to put a pillow down before I sit on a chair. My tailbone is gradually getting better. Dr. Rubio says it will take a long time to heal fully.
I wander the house, pausing at the threshold to every room. I have memories in the guest room from the nights I stayed in there before Daddy finished my nursery. Now I sleep in the crib in my nursery. It’s my haven. My safe place. I feel secure and warm when I’m in my crib.
I turn to stare into Daddy’s room next. I’ve been in there many times. Daddy gives me baths in his tub. He rocks me in his giant recliner most nights, though sometimes we sit in the rocking chair he bought for the nursery.
The master bedroom has a giant king-sized bed. It’s high off the floor and seems huge. I’m sure it’s not bigger across than any other king-sized bed, but it looks larger.
I could be sleeping in it. I could snuggle up in Daddy’s arms and spend all night with him. I could also have his cock inside me. All I need to do is let myself believe this is my life.
It feels too good to be true. I’m not the sort of girl who has good luck. I’m not the sort of girl who finds the perfect Daddy and lives happily ever after.
I’m usually Little, nearly all the time, because I haven’t left the house much since I got here. We went to see Dr. Rubio once so he could verify I’m on the mend. We went to lunch that day, too. We went shopping another day.
I get nervous when we leave the house. I worry about separating my Little from my adult. I’ve been doing so for years, so it’s odd that I suddenly struggle, but I know why it’s hard. It’s because I have Daddy. No matter where we are, he’s still my Daddy, and when I look at him, I’m Little.
Daddy has a certain expression I’ve learned to recognize. I often see it when we’re out. His brow furrows slightly, and he licks his lips as though that action gives him a moment to formulate his thoughts. Then he leans down, cups the back of my neck, and whispers in my ear.
When he does this, I know his words will be so dominant my panties will get wet. It’s like he either can’t help himself—the need to dominate me so strong—or he intentionally likes to assert his authority over me when we’re out.
He does it at home, too, but it’s not the same at home. I don’t have to worry about people seeing me slide into a deeper Little space.
It doesn’t matter what he says into my ear. It’s often simple. That’s not what matters. It’s the control I feel exuding from him that matters.
“Stay by my side while we’re in the store, Baby girl.”
“Do not let go of my hand while we walk to the car, Little one.”
“If you’re a good girl at the doctor, I’ll let you have a lollipop afterward.”
Every time he makes commands like those, my nipples get hard and my pussy clenches.
The lollipop promises are the best. Daddy has purchased an entire box of blue lollipops. He hands me one when he’s particularly proud of me. It’s a treat, and it makes me feel proud of myself.