Chapter 11 #2
There was only one answer to that question. “Of course, babygirl.”
He loosened his hold, already preparing to gather her against his chest. He expected her to curl into him, burrow close so he could kiss her temple, murmur how proud he was of the way she’d handled herself like a big girl.
The Daddy in him loved this time. The praise, the certainty that she was safe. But she didn’t move toward him.
Instead, she folded inward, knees to chest, hands covering her face. And then she broke. The sound of her crying tore straight through him.
“Don’t, firefly. It’s done now.” He shifted closer, gentling his voice. “Let Daddy hold you.” He tried to ease her hands away, but she turned away from him. Not violent or angry, just... retreating and withdrawing from him. That was so much worse.
He cupped her shoulders and turned her back, slow and careful. “Hey.”
She wouldn’t look at him.
The instant he tried to lift her chin, she pulled further away. Something inside him went tight and cold. When he finally caught her jaw and guided her gaze up, her shoulders sagged, and she hid her face again like she couldn’t bear to look at him.
Hell.
Had he spanked her too hard, pushed her too far? Was this some type of Little drop? He wasn’t sure, but he needed to find out. But she answered his questions before he could ask them.
“I’m sorry!” she sobbed.
“Hey. No.” He stood and pulled her gently to her feet. “Come with me.”
Taking her hand, he led her to the cushioned antique rocking chair that had, up until that minute, remained unused. It creaked under his weight when he sat, and protested even louder when he drew her onto his lap, but it held her. Just like he would.
She didn’t resist when he wrapped her up against him. She didn’t stiffen, neither did she pull away. No, she melted against him, her face pressed against his chest, her breath coming in uneven pulls. Each shaky exhale warmed his skin.
He rocked them slowly.
“I don’t like hairbrush spankings,” she whispered eventually.
“I understand.” His hand moved up and down her back in long strokes. “I don’t give hairbrush spankings lightly. Only when Littles need to learn an important lesson.” He rested his cheek against her hair. “Do you know what Daddies don’t like?”
“Nuh-uh. What?”
“Well, Daddies don’t like making their Littles cry. They don’t like seeing their Littles get hurt. And Daddies especially don’t like being ignored when they give their Little a rule.”
She looked up at him with a sad expression that melted his heart. “I hurt you?”
“Not on purpose, babygirl. You don’t know me well enough to trust me yet.
But sometimes you have to listen, even if you don’t like what Daddy is saying.
I always want what’s best for you, what keeps you safe.
That means sometimes I can’t give you what you want because I have to give you what you need.
When you’re with me, I make that call. You get to choose whether to follow the rules or accept the consequences.
” He kept his voice low and firm, but calm. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re saying you’re going to spank me with the hairbrush if I break the rules,” she sniffled, paraphrasing back to show she understood.
“Not always, but there will always be consequences,” he repeated.
“You can say no as many times as you like, but no is not your safe word. You can kick and fuss and cry. As a matter of fact, I can pretty much guarantee you’ll do all of those things.
By the time I’m done, you’ll understand the better choice is to follow the rules.
The only thing I pay attention to is making sure you’re taken care of and your needs get met.
But if it makes you feel better, I hope from here on out that my hand will be enough. ”
Sniffling, she scrubbed her wrist across her eyes and began to play with the hem of his shirt. For all her tears, though, she was not shifting to put distance between them. She was wriggling closer.
She stared at her fingers, still playing with his shirt. “I-I…” She stole a quick peek up at him before gushing out, “I can’t believe I used to fantasize about that.”
He let his fingers play on her back, much the way hers were under his chin. “Getting spanked with the Bad Girl Brush wasn’t exactly what you imagined?”
“No.” She shook her head but still stopped and thought about it for a moment. “Well… yes. B-but that’s not what I was talking about.”
She looked too cute when she stammered like that and tucked her chin. He kept his thoughts to himself, though, waiting for her to gather her thoughts. There was confusion and worry and a hell of a lot of insecurity haunting those stormy azure eyes.
Mace continued to caress her back, his fingers trailing up and down, up and down along her spine. “What were you talking about?” he coaxed, his tone as soft and gentle as he could make it.
“Sometimes…” Her breath hitched, a soft huff of frustration as she tried to find a way to explain herself. “Sometimes I’d think about how it would b-be to have a… a Daddy. I mean a real Daddy who…”
When she paused, he asked, “What makes a Daddy real?”
Another huff and a peek at him that stole up through the dark of her eyelashes as she steadied herself.
With a deep breath, her nervous fingers at last fell still as she said, “You know. A Daddy would spank me,” she rushed to explain.
“But not just for play or to check a box. I mean a Daddy who would spank me hard. Because I earned it. One who didn’t care if I kicked and screamed and cried and pleaded with him to stop.
A Daddy who’d just keep on going until he decided I’d learned my lesson. ”
She suddenly sat up straight, fingers plucking and worrying at her bottom lip the same way she’d plucked and worried at his shirt. “Is that being ungrateful for the Daddy I had? Is that bad?”
“No,” he replied before he could stop himself.
“Erwin was not a Daddy. He was a narcissistic, abusive asshole.” Fuck, he was so upset he’d almost used the dick’s real name, which might be hard to explain and would throw Derek under the bus.
But he kept his tone firm enough to put such fears permanently to rest. Or so he would have thought, but if anything, her eyes grew even more concerned.
“Does the fact that I let him stay mean I’m weird?”
Mace leaned in to press another soft kiss to her forehead.
Her skin there was very soft. Very smooth.
She smelled of smoke and pine and ever so faintly of s’mores.
His lips came away tingling from the effort it took not to dip lower for a taste of her quivering mouth again.
If he started that, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength or will to stop.
“You’re not weird, and don’t ever let me hear you say that you are.” He brushed another soft kiss against her cheek. “You’re a normal Little.” He tasted the saltiness of her drying tears. Beneath his hand, her hair felt as soft as silk. He couldn’t stop touching it.
“How do you know?” she whispered.
“Because I’m a normal Daddy,” he said, slipping his hand beneath her hair to cup the nape of her slender neck.
His touch made her eyes drift closed. The sight warmed his heart and hardened his cock.
Feeling the heat of her little body warming the palm of his hand, the heat of her spanking burning into his lap.
“Is that Daddy logic? Is it the same as ‘because I said so’?”
He smiled. “Close enough. Besides, my Little girls are never weird.”
And she was his. Even if he couldn’t see how quite yet. And even if he couldn’t quite bring himself to kiss the hell out of her again.