Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
Isaac
She doesn’t speak to me during the car ride to her brother’s. That’s okay. Frankly, I’m confused about how we’ve ended up going to Spence’s house this morning. Why was my girl texting her brother while I was on the phone with him?
I feel like my life is a series of questions with no answers.
Amber sits as far away from me as possible, pressed against the door. She has her arms crossed, and she’s staring out the passenger window. She’s very closed off from me, having a silent tantrum. And she says she’s not Little.
I’m divided between being frustrated that she’s being so petty and trying not to smirk at how fucking cute she is when she’s bratty. Bratty is never going to work for her because I will end up laughing.
When I pull up to the back of the house, she jumps out of the car and slams the door almost before I turn off the engine. She jogs to the house, leaving me behind.
I take a deep breath and slowly exit, taking a few seconds to lean on the car and watch her hurry away from me like I have the plague. I wish I knew what the right thing to do is, but I don’t. I’m teetering here.
After Amber rushes into the house, Ben comes out. He’s smirking as he approaches me with his fingertips in the front pockets of his pants. “I want to cringe and ask what the hell is going on, but knowing Amber, you don’t know either.”
I groan as I shove off my car and shut the door. “Not a clue.” That’s mostly true.
“Spence told me what you’ve asked him to do.”
I’m not surprised, nor would I expect Spence to keep secrets from Ben. Ben is his right-hand man. He knows everything.
“Do you want to talk about what spurred this on?”
“Nope.”
Ben chuckles. “Why don’t you just take her in hand already? Daddy her. I bet a good hard spanking would go a long way toward helping her see things for what they are.”
He might be right, but I’m not sure. If he’s wrong, it could go very badly. I scratch my forehead. “I don’t know. What if it backfires?”
He shrugs. “I don’t think it will. Sometimes, especially lately, she’s so Little I feel like she’s crying out for attention—the kind of attention only a Daddy Dom can provide. How convenient is it that the man she won’t admit she’s in love with is a Daddy?”
God, I hope he’s right—that last part, anyway. Otherwise, I’m a schmuck.
Ben slaps me on the back. “Come on inside. Alice made lunch. Giant cheesesteaks for us. Strange tiny tea sandwiches without crusts for the girls. Cassandra had very specific ideas, and she spent about an hour chattering with Alice about the tea party.”
“And Alice had everything on hand to indulge her? She didn’t have much notice.”
Ben nodded. “Alice always has everything on hand. She’s a genius in the kitchen. We are blessed.”
I follow Ben into the house. Alice and her husband, Freud, are in the kitchen. Freud manages the outside of Spence’s home while Alice manages the inside. They’re like family. They live in the apartment above the garage. They’re also extremely accepting of the particular kink practiced in this house and love having Cassandra to worship and spoil.
Freud nods in greeting. “Isaac.”
I nod back.
Alice beams at me. “So glad you’re here. Cassandra has been telling me she wanted to have a tea party for weeks. I thought I was going to have to set Freud up as Cassandra’s companion.” She chuckles.
Freud smirks. “I’d do anything for the Little darling, but tea parties are a stretch.”
Ben hands me a bottle of water. “I’d offer you a beer. I bet you could use one, but you would turn me down.”
I nod. He’s right. I rarely drink. I used to have a beer or two when I wasn’t working, but I’m always working now, and I would never drive Amber anywhere after drinking, nor would I want my guard to be down even an inch.
The kitchen smells amazing, which isn’t a shocker. The scent of steak, onions, and peppers wafts from the stove. There is a giant platter of triangular sandwiches and tiny cakes on the island. I’m grateful I don’t have to eat what looks like cucumber on rye and pimento on white. I like both, but I would be starving afterward unless I ate fifty of them.
Amber only came out of her studio once this morning, and that was to inform me we would be visiting Cassandra at noon. She did so in as few words as possible before heading for her bedroom, where I soon heard the shower running.
The other fun fact is that I saw inside her bedroom before we left. Her bed was littered with clothes, which means she spent some time trying to decide what to wear. Amber never stresses over what to wear. She nearly always wears torn jeans, paint-splattered T-shirts or tank tops, and Converse.
Today, she’s wearing skinny jeans with cuts on the thighs, a pink tank top, and pink Converse. None of the clothes are covered in paint splatters. That’s unlike her, and I didn’t know she even owned clean sneakers, let alone pink ones. I’ve never seen them in two years. What else does my girl own that I’m unaware of?
I draw in a breath and take a sip of water. I need to stop thinking of her as my girl . It’s going to slip out of my mouth one of these times, and she might kill me with her bare hands.
What I also noticed is that every one of her amazing curves was highlighted for me. I’m certain I stared for a second too long when she joined me in the living room, ready to go. The tank top was tight. She had on a matching lacy pink bra. I could see the straps and the edges of her cleavage. The jeans were made of stretchy material and molded to her fantastic ass and thighs.
The only thing relatively normal was that her hair was up in a ponytail. It nearly always is. It’s thick, brown, wavy hair that I’ve pictured running my hands through for two years.
Alice bustles around us. “I’m going to take this upstairs. The girls are having their tea party in Cassandra’s room.”
I’ve seen Cassandra’s “room.” Spence had it designed specifically for her long before he made a single move to bring her into the fold. It’s very feminine with white furniture and soft teals, greens, and blues—Cassandra’s favorite colors.
I wonder if Amber would ever consent to having a Little room where she could spend time escaping the universe. I suspect she would want it to be a rainbow of colors. My girl doesn’t seem to have one color she prefers, but she likes bold splashes—often literal ones caused by paint.
Freud excuses himself to head out, leaving me alone with Ben in the kitchen, so I decide to ask him a few questions. “Does Cassandra sleep in her room?” It’s a very personal question, but I don’t think Ben will be offended. I’m curious how much of Cassandra’s time is spent in Little space.
Ben chuckles. “Fuck no. We all sleep in Spence’s room.”
I smirk. Of course, they do.
“She does spend a lot of time in there, though, and takes naps there. It’s her special place.”
I nod. “How much of the time is she Little?”
“Most of the time. She can be Big when it’s necessary or when she’s screaming one of our names in ecstasy, but since she’s usually at home, she’s almost always Little.”
“Do you ever let her go anywhere alone?” Yeah, I have questions. I pondered dozens of them while I paced around the apartment this morning. I’m living a double life. In one version, Amber tells me to take a hike and never look back. In the other, she stops fighting me and gives me a chance to be her Daddy. I’m beginning to think that even if we put off the inevitable for weeks or months or years, in the end, there’s no middle ground. It’s one or the other. So, I’m arming myself for my preferred scenario.
Ben narrows his gaze as he shakes his head. “Never.” It’s his turn to smirk.
We both jerk our attention to the kitchen entry as someone joins us. But it’s Spence, and I blow out a breath and run a hand through my hair.
Spence stops in the entry. “Am I interrupting?” he teases.
Ben pats my shoulder. “Nope. Just giving Isaac here Daddy advice.”
Spence lifts a brow. “Oh. Did I miss a development?”
I shake my head. “No.” That one syllable sounds disappointed even to my own ears.
Spence comes closer. “I peeked in on the girls.”
There’s a pause, during which he stares at me, almost laughing.
Finally, I sigh and respond, “And?”
“Oh, so you want to know what they’re doing?” He opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water.
I narrow my gaze. “Must you torment me?” I bet he’s having a field day. We’re in uncharted territory here. Never have we spoken as though Amber were Little.
“And…” He opens the bottle and takes a drink, dramatically quenching his thirst before he continues, “Cassandra was rifling through her closet, trying to talk Amber into trying on some of her dresses.”
I gulp. “Her…Little dresses?”
“Yep.”
I glance at the ceiling. I’d give anything to see this. Amber would be mortified, so I will not leave this room. I won’t. I want her to explore her Little side. I want her to find comfort in it and stop fighting it. Then I want her to let me in so she can climb onto my lap and curl up.
Spence snaps his fingers as though suddenly recalling something. “Oh, and hair. They were talking about bows and pigtails.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “You’re just fucking with me now.”
“Nope.” He grins. “I think there’s hope for you after all.”
I need to sit. My legs feel like they might give out. I shuffle toward the table and drop onto a chair. I tip my head back and say a silent prayer that Amber is going to turn a corner today and accept herself. And then me.