Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Gideon
The soft beeping of my alarm wakes me the next morning and I reach for it, doing something I’ve never done before in my life: I hit the snooze button and roll back over, pulling my sweet little Isabella into my arms.
After her visit to the spa the day before, Cat and I treated Isabella to an ice-cream cone from the shop just a couple doors down. The sweet treat seemed to perk my little doll up for a bit, but she fell asleep less than halfway home. I let her nap most of the afternoon, though I found myself worrying over her the longer she slept. We shared a quiet dinner together afterward, with more worrying on my part as I fed her and changed her for bed.
Now, I simply want to look at her. As I was that first night with her in my bed, I’m struck by her classic beauty. She really does look every bit like a porcelain doll come to life, and if Luna hadn’t insisted that I wait before taking her, I’d be tempted to throw tradition to the side and slide my aching cock into her while she sleeps.
Then again, there are no restrictions on my use of her mouth before this evening.
I didn’t put any sedatives in her milk last night, as she didn't seem to need them to get to sleep, so there is nothing stopping her from waking up while I use her this time. That thought only excites me more as I kneel on the mattress beside her head. Her curls have fanned out onto the pillow around her face, though they aren’t as sleek and smooth as they were the day before. She still looks doll-like, but more like a doll well loved by her child.
It’s all the more endearing, as far as I’m concerned. Gripping my cock with my left hand, I use my free hand to take hold of Isabella’s face, squeezing her cheeks just enough to force her jaw open. A groan slips from my lips as her mouth forms that perfect little “O” and I guide the tip of my cock between her waiting lips.
Her brow crinkles, and she whimpers around the length of me, but she doesn't wake. Almost instantly she settles down, gently sucking on my cock much like she would a pacifier.
Fascinated, I watch her suck in her sleep, her cheeks hollowing with each inhale. And even though my libido is demanding that I take my pleasure, I can’t bring myself to move. There’s something so very innocent and sweet about my Little girl using my cock to self-soothe, and I’m loath to ruin the moment for my own needs.
Holding her head still, I shift so that I’m sitting up against the headboard, arranging her on my lap so she can still have plenty of access to her new pacifier. For what seems like hours, I sit perfectly still, stroking her head as she suckles and sighs in her sleep.
At long last, she yawns around my cock, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. Glazed with sleep, it takes a moment for the recognition to hit, and I’m filled with a sense of loss when she jerks backward, drool spilling from the side of her mouth as she looks down at my cock with horror.
“You drugged me again!”
The accusation is more amusing than insulting, and I can’t help but laugh. “Not this time, little doll. This was all you.”
“Oh, really?” A haughty sneer pulls the corner of her mouth up as she glares at me. “I just rolled over and put your cock in my mouth all by myself? Dead asleep?”
“Well, no. You looked so adorable laying there, I was going to fuck your mouth until you awoke. But I refrained.”
Her eyes narrow in clear disbelief. “Why would you refrain?”
“Because you mistook my cock for a pacifier. And you looked so peaceful, sucking on your Daddy’s cock for comfort, I couldn’t bear to wake you.”
Frowning, she sits back on her haunches, clearly trying to make sense of this new information. “That doesn’t sound like me.”
I reach for her, pleased when she doesn’t fight me as I pluck her from the bed and settle her on my lap. “Perhaps your subconscious enjoys being my Little girl more than you realize.”
“I don’t think so.”
Obviously she isn’t quite ready to accept the truth, so I drop the issue for now. There’s more than enough time to convince her of what her deepest, most primal self already knows to be true.
On some level, Isabella Grace Walker is already Daddy’s Little girl.
* * *
Isabella
The events of the morning play over and over in my head throughout the day. Not just waking up with Daddy’s cock in my mouth, but the implication that I did so because some part of me actually does enjoy being his Little girl. Not just as a form of manipulation like I’ve been telling myself so far, but as something I actually… like.
I’m not really sure what that says about me, but the harder I try not to think about it, the more my brain refuses to focus on anything else. Until it seems like all I can think about is whether or not he’s broken me so completely that I’ve already accepted my new life here on the island.
Those obsessive thoughts keep me quiet throughout the day, but Daddy doesn’t appear to mind. If anything, he seems to like the quiet version of me, playing in the wooden pen in his office while I wait for him to finish work. And, if I’m being completely honest with myself, I don’t mind it all that much either. There’s something incredibly peaceful about being allowed to simply be without having to make small talk with a man I know nothing about.
That thought gives me pause. I really don’t know anything about him. And even if I’m not prepared to live here forever as his Little girl, wouldn’t I want to know all about him if I was? It seems like the kind of thing someone would do if they were actually planning to stick around.
“Daddy?”
Looking up from his computer, Daddy glances over at me, surprise in his eyes. “Yes, little one?”
“What’s your favorite color?”
An array of emotions crosses his face, ending with something that looks like amusement as he sits back in his office chair. “Why do you ask?”
“You know my favorite color. It seems like I should be allowed to know stuff about you, too.”
“Fair enough, I suppose.” Swiveling slightly in his chair, he taps a pen against his chin, seemingly giving the question some thought. “I suppose my favorite color would be green.”
I gasp, feeling more excitement than I should at this revelation. “Like mine!”
“Yes, little one. Exactly like yours. Though I prefer a dark, hunter-type green.”
“Like the forest?”
“Exactly like the forest, little doll.”
“Hmm. What about your favorite food?”
“Pasta,” he says with a laugh. “I’ve yet to meet a pasta dish I don’t like.”
We go back and forth a bit, trading little tidbits, until my yawning prompts him to shut the conversation down. He arranges the pile of pillows in the pen with me into something of a nest and tells me to close my eyes for a bit. Clutching my stuffed hippo to my chest, I do as I’m told, and before I even know what’s happening, I drift off to sleep, dreaming of romantic spaghetti dinners deep in the woods.
* * *
Gideon
There’s no real reason for Isabella’s questioning to unsettle me. But unsettled is exactly what I feel, and I can’t pinpoint exactly why as I watch her sleep in her playpen, her arms wrapped around her beloved ballerina hippo.
Forcing myself to look away, I try to focus on my work, an endeavor which quickly proves futile. Still wrestling with that unsettled feeling, I pick up the baby monitor and carry it to the next room with me, where I pull my phone from my pocket and call Maxwell. Not only is he the leader of our band of misfits here on the island, he’s been my closest friend since grade school. If anyone can help me make sense of what just happened with Isabella, it’s him.
“Gideon.” There’s a hint of curiosity in his voice, but no judgement despite me calling him in the middle of a workday. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I just had a…” I trail off, uncertain how to put what I’m feeling into words. “Well, I suppose on its face it would be a conversation with Isabella.”
“I see.”
It’s clear from his tone he doesn’t “see” at all, and even though the logical part of my brain is aware that’s entirely my fault considering I haven’t really given him much to work with, my temper still spikes. “Don’t be an ass, Maxwell. It’s unbecoming.”
“I happen to think being an asshole is very becoming on me,” he says with a low chuckle. “But why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind, brother?”
The old term of endearment settles me, at least a bit. Since neither of us have siblings to claim as our own, we claimed each other fairly early on. “She asked me questions about myself. My favorite color, foods, movies. Among other things.”
“Oh, dear. Well, this is certainly a cause for concern. The woman you’ve decided to keep as your own for the rest of your natural life wants to know you. However will you survive?”
“Fuck off, Maxwell.”
His laughter rings out, deep and clear. “Seriously, Gideon. What’s the problem? She should want to get to know you. It seems to me that it means she’s settling into her role as your Little girl. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Of course, it is.” But as I say the words, I realize why I feel so unsettled.
Up until now, I’d been certain that most of Isabella’s behavior was a farce meant to lull me into a false sense of security so she could escape. She said as much herself.
This feels different. More genuine. Could it be she’s starting to accept her place in my life on more than just a subconscious level?
I’m still not quite convinced. But we still have tonight’s traditional “welcome to the family” dinner. If my Little one can behave herself through that, then I’ll know for certain she’s truly mine in every possible way.