Chapter 18
Camden
My head is spinning from everything I just learned and have yet to learn. I can’t imagine why Lillian is here, but we’re all about to find out.
Simone holds my hand tightly as we head for the front door, and when I open it, I’m taken aback by the woman standing on the porch with Jameson and Natasha. She looks so much like Simone.
I step back, my fingers in Simone’s death grip. “Come in.”
Lillian looks very nervous as she steps inside in front of the others. She glances at me and then looks at Simone. “I’m so sorry to barge into your life, Simone. I’m sure you’re shocked.”
“Yes, but you’re my sister.” She releases me and closes the short distance to hug Lillian.
Lillian’s eyes are watery when they step back. “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” she whispers.
Simone turns toward me. “This is my boyfriend, Camden. And I guess you’ve already met my friend Natasha and her boyfriend Jameson.”
Lillian nods as she wipes tears from the corners of her eyes. “Nice to meet you,” she says, addressing me.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
Jameson speaks next. “We’ll go and come back another day.”
Simone shakes her head. “No. Stay. You don’t need to leave. Unless you want to.”
Jameson looks uncertain. His brow is deeply furrowed.
Natasha smiles at Simone. “Are you sure? We don’t want to intrude.”
“I’m sure.”
Lillian glances around at each of us. “I’m the one who’s intruding. You obviously had plans today. I’m sorry to turn up unannounced.”
Simone points toward the kitchen. “Camden made us all hot cocoa. Let’s go drink it. You can tell me what you’re doing here.”
“Do you have marshmallows?” Natasha asks.
I chuckle. “Yes, Little one. What kind of uh…man, doesn’t have marshmallows for hot cocoa?” I almost referred to myself as Daddy. And I did call Natasha Little one. Simone doesn’t seem bothered, though.
When we reach the kitchen, it occurs to me there is no way to hide our dynamic.
Simone and I have only been solidly practicing age play together for one day, but already, the kitchen looks like a Little girl lives here.
Her chair with the booster seat is next to the table.
Two sippy cups are drying on a towel by the sink.
Simone’s coloring books and crayons from earlier are on the table.
If Simone didn’t want Lillian to see this, we have seriously fucked up.
I point toward the table. “Why don’t you girls sit?
I’ll get the cocoa.” Girls . Shit. I never make these kinds of mistakes.
I’ve been alone with Simone for over a week.
Though we weren’t in hardcore age-play mode, I’ve referred to her as my Little girl all of that time.
This is our home. I’m not used to having people who don’t practice age play in my home.
I’ve never had anyone who wasn’t into our sort of kink in my space.
“So, it’s true,” Lillian says.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye.
Jameson is helping Natasha onto a chair because it’s what he does.
Simone pulls out a regular chair and sits next to Lillian. “What’s true?” she asks as though she has no idea what her sister is talking about.
Lillian is staring at the booster seat. She knows.
For some reason, that comforts me. It seems this will go easier if Simone doesn’t have to spend the next two hours explaining age play. If Lillian is judgmental, Simone will escort her out of the front door within minutes. I can count on that. She won’t need me to intervene.
If Lillian knows about Simone’s preference for age play, then she surely hasn’t come here to lecture her sister. That would be fruitless. Unless their parents have sent her.
Lillian looks around. “You’re Little.”
Simone smiles. “Yep.”
“And Camden is your Daddy?”
“He is.” Simone sits taller. She’s relieved, too.
I set two cups of cocoa on the table, one in front of Natasha and the other in front of Lillian. “Be careful. It’s still hot.”
Jameson aims for the pantry and returns with a bag of mini marshmallows.
He knows my house and everything in it as well as I do.
We’re childhood friends. Our parents owned the homes the two of us now live in.
It’s a coincidence that we both moved back into our childhood homes around the same time as adults.
I bring the third cup of cocoa to Simone. The moment I set it down, she reaches for it, but I stop her by grabbing her fingers. “What did I just say, Little one?”
“That it’s hot. Sorry, Daddy.” She has stopped calling me Camden, which I’m grateful for. I wasn’t fond of the idea of her reverting to my real name after a day of being called Daddy.
Lillian folds her hands in her lap and watches as Jameson opens the marshmallows.
“Can I put my own in, Daddy?” Natasha asks, apparently taking her cues from Simone.
Jameson chuckles. “Not a chance, naughty girl. You’d end up with the bag of marshmallows spilling all over the table and ignore the cocoa altogether.”
“You say that like hot cocoa is sooo nutritious on its own,” she sasses. Her tone is the naughtiest I’ve ever heard from her. Natasha is notoriously submissive and obedient. She doesn’t like to get into trouble.
Simone’s eyes go wide.
I agree with Simone. I’m shocked. I’ve never heard Natasha sass Jameson like that.
Jameson doesn’t look as stunned as I would expect. He smirks. “First of all, hot cocoa is made from milk, naughty girl.”
“Nuh-uh,” Natasha blurts out, leaning forward. “It’s made from water and hot cocoa mix. I bet there is nothing remotely milk-related in hot cocoa mix.”
Have we slipped into another dimension? Who is this naughty girl? And what aliens took Natasha?
Simone covers her mouth, but she’s giggling behind her hand.
I set a hand on top of Natasha’s head. “I’ll have you know that I make my hot cocoa from scratch, and I definitely started with a pan of milk.”
She tips her head back and cringes. “Oops, sorry.”
I keep my palm on the top of her head. “But more importantly, who are you, and what have you done with Natasha?”
I’m aware that Lillian is sitting in stunned silence, watching this interaction. I wouldn’t ordinarily be so rude toward a guest. None of us would. But this new Natasha is shocking both me and Simone.
Jameson crosses his arms, tucking the bag of marshmallows under his elbow. “Meet Natasha two point oh. I found her in California while we were on the beach. This Natasha likes being reprimanded, and now she enjoys pushing my buttons.”
I chuckle. That’s hilarious.
Jameson sobers and shoots a glare at Natasha. “As I was saying before you interrupted me, naughty girl, would you like me to spank your bottom in front of Simone’s sister or wait until we get home?”
Natasha’s shoulders drop. “When we get home, Daddy.”
“That’s what I thought. And would you like to tell everyone what will happen if you sass me again?”
She shakes her head, her cheeks turning red. “No, Sir.”
“Then, maybe curb Naughty Natasha for a while, huh?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Jameson lowers his arms, opens the bag of marshmallows, and holds it out in front of Lillian. “Take as many as you want, Lillian.”
She tips her head back. “Uh, maybe you should just give me the same amount you’re going to give them.”
I smirk. “Smart girl.” Is she Little? Her cheeks are pink. Could be nerves. Could be shock. Could be a lot of things. But one of those possibilities is that she’s simply never witnessed this dynamic and is intrigued.
Jameson dumps some into her mug before moving to Simone’s and then Natasha’s. He pauses to tip his Little girl’s head back. “Are you going to curb Naughty Natasha, Little one?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
I sit next to Simone and face Lillian. “What are you doing in Seattle, Lillian?” I ask to open the lines of communication between the sisters.
Lillian takes a deep breath and turns toward Simone. “You were lucky you got out when you did.”
Simone winces. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you before I left. I couldn’t take the risk. I didn’t think I could go forever without Mom and Dad finding me, but I wanted to get as far away as possible.”
Lillian touches her sister’s arm. “I understand. I really do.”
“How did you find out I’m Little?” Simone asks.
“I’ve known that a long time. I overheard you and Mom shouting about it the day she made you throw away your box. Plus, Mom and Dad discussed it very loudly several times. All I had to do was turn to Google to find out what it meant to be Little.”
Simone nods. “Were they mad when I left?”
Lillian shrugs. “Not really. When I came down to breakfast the next day, they just told me you were gone. They didn’t even seem surprised.”
“They were probably relieved,” Simone says.
Lillian’s brow is furrowed. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how alone you must have felt.” She looks down, staring at her hot cocoa.
Simone sets a hand over Lillian’s. “Why are you here, Lils?”
Lillian lifts her gaze, smiling. “You haven’t called me that since we were young.”
Simone chuckles. “Mom always got mad when I used that nickname with you. She was so formal.” Simone sits taller and schools her face. I suspect she’s about to imitate their mother. “ I named you girls Simone and Lillian. Not Mony and Lils. Stop calling each other that .”
Good thing I’m not holding a cup of cocoa or I would have spewed it all over the table. “Mony?”
Simone cringes before narrowing her gaze at me. “Wipe that from your head, Daddy. I hate it. Don’t call me that.”
“You didn’t hate it when we were toddlers,” Lillian points out.
“I didn’t know what it meant then. Later, when kids started making fun of me, singing it to me, it drove me crazy.”
Lillian shrugs. “By then, Mom had beaten it out of us.”
My eyes widen. “She beat you?”
Both girls shake their heads.
“Not literally,” Simone says.
Lillian sighed. “Sometimes I wished she would. A beating would have been easier than the other things we endured.”
I grit my teeth. I don’t like hearing that my girl had a rough childhood. It just goes to show that money doesn’t buy happiness.