Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Peyton
I didn’t remember falling asleep. Hell, I barely remembered getting out of the bath but when I woke up, I was in Cole’s bed wearing nothing but a diaper and his T-shirt.
Blinking away the haze of sleep, I peeled my eyes open enough to glance at the alarm clock—three in the morning. Ugh, why am I awake?
I grumbled around my pacifier and settled on Cole’s chest again, but something kept me from drifting off. Whimpering, I tucked myself tighter into Daddy’s side. We’d had an incredible night, and I just wanted to get back to sleep.
Being put to sleep with a bottle was—oh… My bladder twinged, jolting me back to reality. I whined, squirming. I had to go bad. Did I wake Cole to take me to the bathroom? No, that wasn’t fair. He was fast asleep.
My diaper rustled as I wiggled against the pressure.
Technically, I didn’t have to get up if I didn’t want to, but there was a difference between using a diaper in my sleep and making a conscious decision.
Unfortunately, the second I had the thought, my body chose for me.
I was helpless in the matter, hiding in Cole’s chest while my bladder emptied into the plush material.
Tears pricked the corner of my eyes, shame heating my cheeks.
I bit down hard on my soother, hoping the whimpers wouldn’t be the thing to wake Daddy.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears, only subsiding once I no longer felt the ache in my stomach. Although relieved, I didn’t feel any better. I was still sleepy and now, I faced a whole other issue. Wet diapers were not fun.
Tears poured down my cheeks. I held tight onto Daddy, fingers digging into his bare chest.
So much for not waking him up… “What’s wrong baby?”
I tried to speak, tried to tell him that I was wet, but it was in vain. The only sound that came out was a pathetic whine.
Daddies had some special sixth sense, I swear. Because the next thing he did was snake a hand between us and squish the front of my diaper. I grimaced at the feeling. “No wonder you’re upset. You need a change, sweetheart.” A kiss to my hair, and he was pulling away from me.
I snatched my pacifier from my mouth, sniffling. “You don’t have to get up.”
“Yes, I do, baby. You’re wet.” I sat up, fully intending to follow him to the nursery. Daddy stopped me, replacing my pacifier in my mouth. “You stay there, little one. I’ll be right back.”
I laid back down, trying not to move too much. Movement made the wet cotton more evident, and it only heightened my discomfort. After a minute or two, the crying subsided. My nose ran and my chest hurt. I coughed around my soother, and that was when Daddy re-entered the room. “You okay?” he asked.
I nodded, perking up when he came into full view: he had another bottle in his hands. Sure, sure; he also carried supplies to change me, but I was more interested in that milk. It tasted so good before. But… “I’ll only have to go again.”
“Then I’ll change you again,” Cole said, handing over the bottle. “Or I take you to the bathroom. It’s not a bother, Peyton.”
Hesitant, I accepted the drink. The moment the sweet vanilla flavor hit my tongue, though, the fight left me.
I slumped against the pillow and let Daddy take over.
A changing mat and towel were placed under my hips, and I sighed with relief when he removed the soiled diaper.
He kissed my bare belly, and I giggled around the bottle.
Daddy changed me, cleaning me up with warm wipes and putting more of that soothing cream on my irritated thighs. With another kiss where my skin met the diaper, Daddy whisked all the dirty things away before he climbed back into bed.
Laying on his side, he curled his arm behind my head and held onto the bottle for me. His eyelids were heavy, but before I could feel any guilt over waking him up, he shushed me and kissed my cheek. “Relax now, baby.”
Warm, dry, and comfortable, I relaxed in his arms. He whispered soothing words in my ear, holding the bottle steady while he brushed through my hair with his fingers.
This drink was smaller, and didn’t take me as long to finish.
Once it was empty, Daddy set it aside and pulled me onto his chest once more. “I love you, Daddy.”
I didn’t miss the way his breath hitched. Panic spiked somewhere inside me, somewhere deep that couldn’t be reached beyond the haze of my safe space.
“I love you too, baby.”
Another kiss to my forehead, and I closed my eyes.
The next morning, I was dry, thankfully, but still had to go. Able to manage myself, I tiptoed into the bathroom, leaving Cole asleep in the bed. I had no intention of waking him up. I’d done my fair share of that, but he peeled his eyes open when I left the bathroom.
“Good morning,” he said, giving me that smile that made my heart skip a beat. Then he glanced at his clock. “Almost afternoon.”
Blushing, I crawled into his side of the bed. “I’m sorry about—”
“Don’t you dare.” He rolled onto his back and sat against the headboard. Throwing the blanket aside, he patted the empty space between his muscular thighs. “Come here.”
Don’t mind if I do. I happily took my place, resting against his chest. Strong arms closed around me. I’d never felt so secure in my life from such a simple gesture.
“Never apologize for needing me, Peyton,” Cole husked, voice still sleep-laden. “No matter what it is.”
I hummed, scratchy stubble stimulating my skin. “Even busting into your house and demanding that you play my Daddy?”
“You hardly demanded,” Cole laughed, vibrating my back. “Besides, I think it stopped being ‘play’ a long time ago.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t act shy, Peyton. We both remember what you said last night.” Cole’s hands palmed up and down my thighs, desire pooling in my groin. “Say it again for me.”
He teased between my legs, and all I could manage was a whimper. I could already feel the arousal dripping down, soaking the sheets beneath me. Before I could get self-conscious about it, Cole brushed my sensitive spot. “Say it again for Daddy,” he commanded.
“I love you,” I sighed. Deeming my offer acceptable, he stroked me in soft, slow circles.
“I love you, Peyton.” Cole increased the pressure, and I arched into the touch. “I always have.”
I moaned, throwing my head back onto his shoulder.
Lips found my neck, fingers clenched my thigh and dipped lower, toward my entrance.
Cole was right: those feelings had always been there in some form or another.
My heart knew years ago what the rest of me hadn’t caught up to yet: I’d loved Cole Davis since the day we met.
He switched to stroking me with his thumb, sliding one finger into me, then two when I begged for more.
He expertly found that spot inside me that—with the combination of his thumb—hurtled me to climax.
That familiar urge built, my muscles quivering with the effort of holding it back.
Oversensitivity slammed into me, but Cole didn’t let up.
Instead, he held my legs in place, instructing me to push on my stomach.
“Daddy…” I panted. I writhed in his arms, a hard, throbbing bulge pressing into my back.
“Come on, pretty baby,” he urged, pinning my legs in place. “Make a mess for me.”
With one skilled move from his fingers, I did. My release splashed against his hand until he’d worked every drop out of me—and then he kept going. I fell limp in his arms, unable to even wiggle away from the overwhelming feeling. “Hands and knees, little one,” Cole ordered in my ear.
I slid onto my stomach, presenting myself to him ass-first. My arms turned to jelly, and my legs shook with the effort of holding me upright. Cole shifted behind me, gripping onto my hips and sinking his hard cock into me with one swift thrust. It pulsed inside me, and I rolled my hips over him.
Gathering my strength, I pushed myself onto my knees. Cole supported me with an arm around my waist, the other hand cupping between my legs. I cried out, still sensitive. My thighs quivered. “Daddy, please,” I begged, scrabbling at his arm. “I can’t take anymore.”
“Yes, you can, sweetheart,” Cole moaned. “You can give me one more.”
“Please…”
Cole’s free hand snaked up my chest, fingers wrapping around my throat. “Are you using your safeword, Peyton?”
I thought about it, but Cole gave one slow roll of his hips, catching that sweet spot inside me. The thought went out the window. My eyes rolled back in my head, arm curling around his neck. “No.”
Cole purred, tightening his grip. “Look at yourself, sweetheart.”
I pried my eyes open, and he directed my gaze toward the mirror.
Shit, the sight was porn-worthy. My skin dimpled where he grabbed onto me, reddened in the dim light from the bathroom.
Cole’s hand glistened with my arousal. My stolen t-shirt was damp and wrinkled, crumpled out of the way so Cole could stroke me.
The thin material left little to the imagination, including the way my nipples tented the fabric.
The memory of Cole’s large hands squeezing my chest through my release tossed me into another orgasm.
And fuck, the way he was looking at me? It was like he wanted to bottle this moment and savor it for the rest of his life.
This man held me when I cried. He knew my deepest, darkest secrets.
He was everything.
I didn’t need any added pressure to make a mess that time, spurting over Cole’s cock as he shuttled into me. He growled out his release, a hot rush filling me and dribbling down my legs.
Cole rested on his heels, and I collapsed into his arms. Soft lips soothed angry skin, and he stripped me of the soiled t-shirt.
Every muscle in my body quivered, wrecked and overstimulated beyond belief.
Chests heaved, lungs fighting for every hard-earned breath.
“I love you,” I panted. “I love you so much.”
A chuckle, and stubble-lined lips brushed Cole’s mark on my neck. “I love you, too.”