Chapter 3
Camden
I said too much. I should have waited until tomorrow or even a few days from now.
I’ve probably overwhelmed her with all that.
If I’d called and asked her out like a normal human, I would have been able to ease her into the idea of being my Little girl.
I certainly wouldn’t have told her I already had a room prepared for her on a first date.
She’s at a disadvantage. I know her. I know who she is. I’ve even watched her Little at Surrender when she had no idea I was there. She’s shown me her true colors many times over the past four years.
Meanwhile, she doesn’t know a thing about me as a Daddy. I’ve never let that side of me come out at school. She might have painted a picture of what I would be like—I’m confident she has—but it was all conjecture. There is no way for her to really know what sort of Daddy I am.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a Little of my own, someone I brought into my home.
I’ve never brought any Little into this house.
I’ve never even brought a vanilla woman here.
It was my childhood home. My parents lived here until five years ago when they officially retired and moved to Florida.
That’s when I came into an early chunk of my inheritance.
I also have some money from my grandparents on both sides, so I actually have most of my inheritance already.
Hopefully, my parents are spending every dime they can and enjoying it.
I’d rather they have fun and leave me next to nothing than save money for me after they’ve passed. I don’t need it, nor do I want it.
When I go to Surrender, I sometimes scene with Littles, but the appeal hasn’t been there as much since I met Simone.
Plus, I never wanted to take the risk of her seeing me with another Little.
I didn’t want her to see my Daddy side at all.
I’ve spent four years holding off, waiting for her to either graduate or change her mind about me and move on.
That’s a long time to wait for a woman. In that time, she’s changed. She was eighteen or nineteen when I first met her. She’s twenty-two now. I have no idea if she dated during college, but I never heard her speak about it, nor did I ever see her with anyone at Surrender.
For as in tune as she seems to be with her Little side, I’m not sure she has any actual experience. I know from Natasha that Simone has been aware of her Little for many years. That does not mean she’s practiced her preferred kink in real life.
I meant what I said about not wanting to baby her. I don’t think she runs that young. She might even be more of a Middle than a young Little. Her lengthy goth phase seemed more Middle, but that could have been a front she put on at school. It’s hard to say.
I guide Simone to the second floor and down the hallway until we come to the room I’ve designed specifically for her. I’ve never even told Jameson about this room. He would have ribbed me incessantly.
I take a deep breath in front of the door. I’m marginally confident I got this right. Marginally being the keyword. She spent most of the last year in her goth phase, and I always believed that was simply her trying to get my attention.
Based on the way she’s dressed tonight, I feel more certain.
She’s softer than I’ve seen her in a long time.
Pink boots and sweater. Pink bow. The only black parts of her outfit are her tights and the plaid in her skirt.
Her makeup is subtle, or it was before the attack.
Her eyeliner was normal. Pink eyeshadow.
I suspect pink lipstick, too. It certainly wasn’t black.
I would be able to see the remnants of that.
I open the door and guide her into the room with a hand on the small of her back. “You can change anything you want, Simone. I couldn’t be sure what you might like. I had to guess.”
All of a sudden, I’m fucking nervous. Needlessly. It’s just paint and bedding, for fuck’s sake. Like I said, she can change it.
She stands very still for a long time and then turns toward me and silently wraps her arms around me, hugging me tightly.
I blow out a relieved breath and gingerly wrap my arms around her. I don’t want to hurt her. I kiss the top of her head. I’ve never let my lips get anywhere near this Little girl.
We stand like this for a long time. She’s silently crying. Her body is shaking, and she’s sniffling.
“Shhh, Little one. Everything is going to be okay.” I let myself bury my nose in her hair and inhale deeply. She smells like lavender. I’ve smelled this on her before. It must be her favorite. Which works out great since I bought her lavender toiletries.
If I’ve overstepped, I’m going to regret this for the rest of my life. Even if I got everything right, she might not appreciate me essentially plotting out her life without any input from her. It’s kind of creepy.
“So…” I finally say, “pink?”
She leans her head back and gives me a smile. It has to hurt because she winces. Her face is a mess, and I’m trying not to point that out. I don’t think she’s seen it yet, but she must know it’s bad because one eye is swollen almost shut.
“Yeah…pink.”
I blow out an exaggerated breath. “Way to keep a guy waiting,” I tease. “I never thought the goth thing was legit. I suspected it was more of a rebellious stage to taunt me.”
She rests her better cheek against my chest and hugs me again.
I continue, “I decided one of your earlier phases was probably more authentic. It was softer with lots of pinks.”
She nods against me.
“But we can change it if I’m wrong or you decide to go black. It might get a bit dark in here if we paint the walls and ceilings black, but we can always change it.”
“Shut up,” she mutters against me.
I chuckle, making both of us shake. “You’re going to be a handful for the next few weeks while you’re healing.
I can tell already. There’s no way I would spank you while you’re covered in bruises and hurting, so you get a pass, but don’t think I won’t keep a tally of your naughty behavior and discipline you when you’re healed. ”
I’m rambling.
She sniffles and repeats, “Shut. Up .”
I hold her closer. I don’t want to hurt her, but fuck…
“I know it’s late, and you need sleep more than anything in the world, but I bet you’ll feel better after a bath, huh?”
“Yeah. That would be nice.”
“And maybe something to drink?”
“I’m sure bourbon would do the trick.”
I laugh. “Not a chance. Nice try, naughty girl.”
She gasps and leans back to look me in the eyes. “You’re not going to let me drink alcohol?”
I’m confident she’s fucking with me. She’s always been a handful. I expect nothing less. I’m actually pleased she’s able to joke around tonight. “Never.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You can’t tell me not to drink, Camden .” She emphasizes my name. It’s the first time she’s said it, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. It’s better than her calling me Professor Arnalt. I hope we’re done with that phase of our lives.
“Of course I can. You knew I would. Don’t try to play the shocked card with me, Little girl.”
She gives me that crooked partial smile again, wincing. “Just kidding. I don’t even know what bourbon tastes like. It smells nasty.”
“It’s delicious, but the closest you’ll get to tasting it will be when I kiss you senseless after I’ve had some.”
She sobers. “I like that idea,” she whispers.
I need to get off this topic of conversation. “So, bath?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I take her hand and guide her into the attached bathroom. The last thing I want to do is leave her alone, but I need to. She’s not in the right frame of mind to share her naked body with me. She wasn’t earlier, and she still isn’t.
I reach over and turn the water on in the tub, plugging it with the stopper after it warms up. When I face her again, I take her shoulders. “I might have a bedroom set up, but I don’t have any clothes for you. I’ll go grab one of my T-shirts, okay?”
She nods. “Thank you.”
“I’ll set it outside the door. There’s a toothbrush in the drawer. How about if you go ahead and get in the tub? When you’re done, I’ll bring you some painkillers and a glass of water and tuck you in.”
“Okay,” she says softly.
I hate leaving her, but I do so quickly before I can change my mind.
I hurry into my bedroom, grab a clean T-shirt, and return to place it outside the bathroom door.
That done, I head to the kitchen for a sippy cup, fill it with ice water, find the ibuprofen in the cabinet, and lastly, snag an ice pack from the freezer.
Her face is going to hurt, but maybe the cold will help the swelling.
Before taking it all upstairs, I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Jameson.
I don’t want to forget to let him know what’s going on.
There’s no reason for him and Natasha to cut their trip short.
I’ve got this. Simone is mine, anyway. She always was.
It’s not as though I would turn her over to Jameson’s care.
If they came home, they would only be able to visit her.
She’s not sleeping under Jameson’s roof. She’s sleeping under mine.
Fuck yes, I’m feeling possessive. More so by the minute. I know my mind. I just need to convince Simone.