Chapter 13
Jameson
On the drive home, my mind is racing. I hold Natasha’s hand most of the way, stroking her fingers, hoping to soothe her. I hate not having a single clue about what happened in her session with Quinten, but I won’t pressure her. She’ll tell me what she wants me to know when she’s ready.
She’s clearly worn out, which is understandable. Therapy can be stressful. She’s never been to a counselor, so there’s a good chance she had a lot of issues to discuss even though she didn’t think it was necessary.
I’m concerned about where I fall in her world right now, but I have to trust that she will let me know when the time is right. After all, I thought she should see Quinten because I wanted to help her make sure she was following her heart with me.
Selfishly, I want her to go to therapy because it will devastate me if I let her burrow deeper under my skin and then lose her. What if she changes her mind or realizes one day she’s not even submissive?
I know that’s not likely, but I’m trying to protect both of our hearts. I’m smart enough to know that my heart already belongs to her, and I would be just as broken if she left me today as I would if she left me after I’ve taken her into my bed.
Maybe I can ease some of her future pain this way, though. I’m not the one who’s a virgin. Giving me her body is a big deal. I never want her to regret it.
I might not have imposed such strict rules about touching her if I hadn’t found out she’s so totally innocent. The extent of her sexual experience is me watching her touch herself on Sunday. It was so dirty and wicked of me, but she craved every moment of it.
I’ll never in my life forget the image of her leaning against the couch, legs spread wide, freshly shaved pussy covered in those little panties. The moans she made when she touched her little nipples and stroked her clit over the cotton made my cock so hard I thought I might come in my pants. It was difficult not to.
She’s so damn precious and perfect. I want to wrap her in bubble wrap and never let her leave my house. In the past month, I’ve gone into the office for only a few hours a day. I only go to work when Natasha is in class. I can’t stand the idea of not being at home when she returns. I’ve managed to keep my thumb on the pulse by working after she goes to bed and early in the morning, but I’m grateful that my company is self-sufficient and doesn’t require much hands-on babysitting anymore.
My thoughts are consumed with Natasha day and night. Everything about her brings me to my knees. In fact, I’m worried that I’m considerably more in love with her than I was with Julia. I almost didn’t survive losing Julia. How would I survive if I lost Natasha?
It’s possible that part of the reason I’m keeping her out of my bed is to protect my heart. But my heart is already hers, so I’m not protecting it well at all.
Every day I consider saying “fuck it” and guiding her straight to my room instead of hers after dinner. Every night, I find the will to give her space.
I hope Quinten was helpful. I know many people who have gone to him for counseling. They all rave about him. He’s good at what he does. I have to trust that he helped Natasha see things through a clear lens.
I also hope involving Camden in our personal life wasn’t a mistake. I really want Natasha to have more people in her court with her best interests in mind. Camden cares deeply about her as a professor does a star student.
Simone… Is she good for Natasha? I’m not sure. I don’t know her well enough. I know she has spent three years flirting with Camden, who refuses to so much as glance at her or give her any reason to encourage her advances.
It’s almost comical. Camden won’t discuss the situation beyond complaining every time Simone tries to lure him into her web. We’ve seen her at Surrender. She’s definitely into age play, though I’m not at all sure even Simone knows what age range she prefers. She’s all over the place, switching things up every few months. Lately, she’s been on a goth kick. I find it humorous because I suspect it’s driving Camden batty. It’s most likely not her true style. I think it’s just her latest experimental phase.
I’m glad Natasha has a peer to talk to, and I don’t want to discourage her—as long as Simone seems to be providing helpful information and references. I have Simone to thank for most of what Natasha has learned in the past month.
I pull up to the circular drive in front of the house and turn off the engine. Both Albert and I always pick up and drop off Natasha at the front of the house. So far, she’s never commented on the fact that we move the cars into the garage later. She’d lose her shit if she saw what else is parked in the four-car garage.
I turn to her before getting out of the car. “You mentioned you have a test coming up for school. Would you like to have Simone over to study with you at the house?”
She’s never had a friend over, and she’s never even asked. Granted, I suspect she’s leery about letting Simone meet me. I’m a brooding, overbearing presence. She’s probably too embarrassed.
I don’t think she has other close friends besides this rather recent relationship with Simone, and that only came out of the woodwork because Simone suspected Natasha was Little and confronted her.
Natasha narrows her gaze at me. “Really?”
“Of course.” I’m definitely an asshole.
“Are you going to hover and make me regret it?”
“Probably,” I confess, grinning. “But you like it when I hover, and I know you don’t care how much Simone knows about our dynamic. You’ve probably shared more with her than you have with me.”
She grins and gives me an adorable shrug.
I want to kiss her. I’ve wanted to kiss her since the night I met her, but it’s stronger than ever right now. We’re sitting in the dark car, which is slowly growing chilly without the engine on, staring at each other, smiling.
Whatever happened with Quinten, it can’t have been too horrible because she doesn’t look like she intends to cut off my balls and pack her bags.
“Okay… I’ll text her and see if she can come after class tomorrow. She can drive me home.”
I chuckle. “Nice try. Not a chance.”
“But, Daddy…”
The Earth stops spinning on its axis. All I can hear is the ringing in my ears. I can’t even blink as I stare at my Little girl whose cheeks are turning pink. She’s just as stunned as me.
“I—”
I lift a hand and cover her mouth. “Don’t say anything. It just slipped out. It’s okay.”
“I’m not sure that’s entirely accurate, Sir.”
My heart is pounding. What on earth did she discuss with Quinten? I’d never ask him, but I’m beyond curious now. It can’t be a coincidence that my Little girl just called me Daddy for the first time immediately after her session with a kink counselor.
“Let’s go inside, Little one,” I say softly. “I’m sure dinner is almost ready.” I open the door and hurry to her side of the SUV to help her out. It’s cold, so we hurry inside.
As soon as we’re in the foyer, I help her out of her coat. “Go potty and wash your hands, Little one. I’ll meet you in the dining room.”
“You don’t want me to change?”
I lift her chin with my finger. It’s one of the few ways I allow myself to touch her. “Not tonight. But leave your sweater upstairs.”
“Yes, Sir.”
As soon as she disappears up the stairs, I blow out a long breath and head for the dining room. I need to compose myself before she returns. I’m reeling from that one word that slipped out of her mouth. I can’t begin to think that it means anything. It just happened.
When Natasha rushes into the room five minutes later, she’s breathless.
“Were you running, Little one?” I admonish.
She sighs. “I’m sorry, Sir.” Instead of heading toward the side of the table where her place is, she comes to me and stops. She wrings her fingers together as if she has something to say, and it’s making her nervous. “Quinten told me not to bring up any concerns with you tonight because I should take some time to think about them, but I want to address one anyway because it’s bothering me.”
I turn my chair so I’m fully facing her. She deserves my complete attention. Hopefully, the fact that I’m sitting and she’s standing helps her to feel confident. I’m only slightly panicked. After all, the reason I wanted her to see Quinten was to work through any issues she has about us. I can’t be frustrated now that she has identified some. “Go ahead, Little one. You can tell me anything.”
She drops her hands and smooths down the front of her blouse. “This isn’t going to work, Sir.”
I know exactly what she’s referring to. I’ve been waiting for her to confront me on this since Tuesday morning. I’m surprised she made it two full days. If this is the most troubling thing she discussed with Quinten, I’m going to fist pump.
“I can’t wear training bras to class, Mr. Hoffman. I’m too distracted, and it’s hard for me to focus. I haven’t been able to listen to my teachers well for two days.” She says that last part dramatically as if her perfect grades might suffer because of her bra.
It’s hard not to laugh. “Tell me specifically what’s distracting about your training bras, Little one.”
She gasps. “People might see!” she shouts.
I narrow my gaze at her. “Natasha…” I warn. “You may discuss your concerns with me, but you may not yell.”
She sighs adorably, rolling her eyes. “Sorry, Sir,” she says calmly.
“So, you’re worried other students might see the type of bra you’re wearing under both your blouse and your sweater?”
“Of course,” she says sarcastically.
“Natasha… Tone. Speak to me respectfully, Little one.” I watch her very closely, fist pumping in my head when she shifts her weight back and forth and squeezes her thighs together. She likes it when I reprimand her. In the future, I suspect she might even intentionally goad me so that I’ll scold her and feed her craving.
She huffs out a breath and continues pleading her case, “Plus, what happens when it gets warm out and I can’t wear a sweater? Huh? Then everyone will know.”
“So, just to be clear. You sat in class struggling to pay attention to the teacher because you kept pulling the sweater around tighter to make sure no one in the room saw the type of bra you had on under two layers of clothing.”
She nods. “Yes.”
“And you’re sure that’s the real problem—people noticing.”
“Yes, Sir.” She straightens her spine, quite obviously proud of herself for making her case.
I watch her for a minute, rubbing my chin, letting her stew simply because I’m going to love letting her squirm like this for the rest of my life.
Her shoulders drop, and she sighs. “You’re not going to relent on this, are you?”
“I didn’t say that, Little one.”
“But you’re obviously trying to figure out how to tell me no without me throwing a tantrum.”
I chuckle. Damn, she’s cute. “Are you planning on throwing a tantrum?”
“Maybe.” She crosses her arms defiantly and shoots daggers at me with her eyes.
It’s hard not to laugh, but I need to put her out of her misery. “Let’s consider this from another angle, shall we?”
She groans, making my cock double in size. I have no idea who this sassy Little girl is, but I like it.
“How did you feel when you first put that training bra on Tuesday morning, Natasha?”
“Twelve,” she blurts out.
“That was my plan. I specifically requested that Delilah choose adult training bras that are meant to be pulled over the head and made of thin material with babyish patterns to give you no support and zero coverage.”
She gives me a defiant stare.
“Lower your arms, Natasha. Clasp them behind your back.”
She grits her teeth as she obeys me, but she also squeezes her legs together again, and that’s the important part.
“Do you feel like your boobies are so large that you need a lot of support to hold them up?”
Her face turns beet red.
I’m pushing her almost too far. I scoot forward so my chair is closer to her and set my hands on her hips. “Look at Daddy.”
She meets my gaze, softening slightly.
“Good girl. Now, listen to me. First of all, your breasts are absolutely perfect. Do not misinterpret what I said and get it in your mind that I think they’re small. They are perfect. Got it?”
She nods slowly.
“Age play is about making you all tingly. When you stood in front of the mirror and saw yourself for the first time in that training bra, were you aroused?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispers.
“I bet your nipples were hard little points all day because all you could think about was how naughty it was to be wearing something so scandalous.”
She hesitates. “Yes, Sir.”
“So, maybe the real issue you have is not that you’re worried about someone seeing your training bra. Maybe it’s that it makes you feel so very naughty that you can’t focus. Is that possible?”
Her mouth falls open, and then she sighs. “Yes, Sir.”
“Then, perhaps what you need to say to me is, ‘Daddy, I can’t focus in class when I’m wearing a babyish training bra under my shirt because it reminds me constantly that I’m Little. I need a more adult headspace when I’m in class.’”
A single tear runs down her face.
I tug her closer even though I probably shouldn’t, but I don’t want her to cry. Wrapping her in my arms, I pull her between my legs and rub her back. She’s tugging at my heartstrings.
She doesn’t break into a full sob, but she does sniffle against my chest. “You’re right,” she chokes out.
I smile and whisper in her ear, “I don’t need to be right, Little one. I only need you to be happy. You can wear regular bras to class, but one of these days, I’m going to sit in the armchair in my room while you put on every one of those training bras and model them for me.”
She giggles through her sniffles. “Okay, Daddy.”
I groan and hold her closer. “I like the sound of that, but it’s not going to get you in my bed yet.”
She leans back. “You said if I started calling you Daddy…”
“I also said you needed a week to think about everything. It’s been four days.”
“But I don’t need a week.”
I narrow my gaze at her. “If you argue with Daddy, I’ll make it two.”
She pouts. “Yes, Sir.”
I pat her bottom. “Now sit so we can eat dinner. You need to get to bed early tonight. You’ve had a long, stressful day.”
“Yes, Sir. Can I text Simone after dinner to see if she is free to come over tomorrow after class?” She takes her seat and pulls her chair up to the table.
“Yes, but only as many texts as it takes to work that out. Then you turn your phone off and get into bed. No calls. And you may not ride home with Simone. Albert will pick you up as usual.”
“Why? That’s so wasteful since she’ll be coming here at the same time, Sir.”
“For one, because I said so, and you’ll learn not to argue with Daddy. When I tell you to do something, you should just do it without questioning me. For another thing, you’re grounded from riding with Simone indefinitely because you intentionally didn’t come home by curfew.”
“Grounded?” Her voice lifts in both pitch and volume.
Edith bustles into the room at that moment with a pitcher of water. She fills our glasses.
“Yes, grounded. Are you familiar with the concept, Little one? It’s what happens when you defy Daddy and do something naughty and get caught.”
Her cheeks turn pink as I reprimand her in front of Edith.
Edith says nothing.
Natasha squirms in her seat.
I take the chance to push her a bit further. “Don’t slouch, Little one, and spread your knees. Wrap your ankles around the legs of the chair.”
Natasha’s cheeks flush a darker pink.
I catch Edith biting her lip as she scurries from the room.
“You’re evil,” Natasha whispers as soon as we’re alone.
I chuckle and lean over to wrap my hand around hers. “You love it.”