Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
R emy had been her Daddy for a week and it had been nothing short of amazing.
She mostly spent her days sorting out the house and getting all her ducks in a row. Now that she wasn’t married to Cabot anymore, there were things she had to figure out for herself like bank and retirement accounts, what to do with some of the assets she’d wound up with in the divorce, taxes, credit cards, bills, and more. It was a veritable cornucopia of adulting, and it was terrible.
But after Remy was done with his recording and admin tasks for the day—being a voice actor sure involved a lot of paperwork, who knew?—they would spend time together. He would cook, she would write, sometimes they would shop online for Little things, and sometimes he would give her huggles while they watched a movie or talked.
It wasn’t always easy talking about the dynamic they were building—it was far more fun to do those things—or even about their relationship. Cabot had always been so certain and oftentimes railroaded her into things she didn’t really want or told her she wasn’t allowed the things she did. Whereas Remy…
He cared so much what she thought and how she felt, but that meant she had to be more vulnerable with him. Which he made about as easy as he could with his firm but gentle manner, and his good-humored persuasiveness.
She still felt like a raw nerve sometimes and it was almost a relief to have to go back to all that grown-up nonsense, because she knew how to play that game, wear that mask. It’s not that she liked dealing with accountants and lawyers and bankers and utilities and everything else, but at least it didn’t poke at the most tender parts of herself she’d kept buried for years upon years.
Since Remy had gone back to his cabin after they’d had lunch together, she’d been sorting out more house things. Which included taking down a giant and very pricey painting she’d always hated. She’d have to call an art broker to see if someone wouldn’t take it off her hands.
Taking the enormous and hideous canvas down had freed up a wall in the study, and suddenly it seemed imperative to redecorate. It would take a while to get new furnishings, but in the meantime, she could move stuff around so it looked and felt better. Then maybe she’d actually use this room. Or maybe Remy would like it…
Nuala blushed just thinking about it, and then shook her head. She could be a smitten, lovesick Little girl soon enough when Remy came over for the evening. But she probably had enough time to move this dark brown leather Chesterfield before he got here. She bent over, put her back into it, and started to shove the hulk of a couch across the room.
It startled the hell out of her when she heard Remy’s voice. “Little girl. What did I tell you about moving heavy things by yourself?”
Standing up straight, Nuala’s stomach dropped, and she felt like she melted, leaving a smaller version of herself standing in her puttering-about sneakers. Like she’d dressed up in her mom’s clothes and had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Of course, she had been.
“I…” Everything was jumbled up inside her, grown-up Nuala and Little Nono, mostly guilt mixed with a spot of defensiveness, and knots in her stomach for having disappointed and disobeyed her Daddy who she was so, so grateful for.
Which maybe explained why she burst into tears.
Fuck. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. Had he been too stern? He hadn’t raised his voice, but he had lowered the register and put some force behind it. And his sweet Little girl had started bawling.
He’d sort out what had happened, but first things first. He closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around his sobbing Little girl. Stroked her hair and held her against him while she cried.
Finally, she sniffed and looked up at him, and Remy could see the difference right away. When he’d come in, Nuala must’ve been in grown-up head space. She’d been going about her business, getting chores done around the house, and he’d come in and yanked her hard and fast into Littlespace with his scolding. No wonder his sensitive little hummingbird was upset.
He swiped at her tears with his thumb and licked the resulting salt from his own skin. Even when she was sad, she was so delicious.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, her voice faltering, chin still trembling. “I was big and I forgot.”
“I’m not mad at you, Nono. I’m just worried. Daddy makes rules to keep you safe. I know it can be hard to remember your rules when you’re feeling like a grown-up, and it’s going to take some practice to obey them all the time. Daddy will help you; that’s what Daddies are for.”
Blood surged to his dick when she blinked up at him and pinched her lips between her teeth before whispering, “Does that mean you’re going to spank my bottom?”
That had been something they had negotiated: consequences for breaking rules they’d agreed upon. It was also the first time Nuala had broken one of the rules, and the first time she’d be disciplined.
“Yes. Little girls get their bottoms spanked when they disobey rules. Let’s take care of it right now, and Daddy will deal with the furniture afterward.”
Another pinch of Nuala’s plump, pink lips between her perfect teeth but she didn’t start crying again. No, his brave Little girl sniffed and then agreed, “Yes, Daddy.”
It’s not that he wanted her to protest, but he would’ve understood if she did. This was so new for both of them. While he would have stuck to her being disciplined—she needed to trust that he would always follow through on consequences, whether positive or negative—he would’ve understood if she needed to process it in conversation first. And after the fact too, which he’d be expecting when this was over.
“Good girl,” he told her because she deserved praise for not arguing with him and accepting her discipline with grace. “Let’s go up to the bedroom and get you ready.”