CHAPTER HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN

VIOLET POV

He towels me dry and helps me into my knickers and nightdress. My socks, too. He gets me a glass of warm milk and takes me through to the sitting room, pats his knee as he lowers himself into an armchair, and I join him, my ass pressing into his lap as his arms wrap me up and hold me tight.

      His lips press to my shoulder. “You smell so clean, Violet. Sweet, like cherries.”

He breathes in my damp hair and I still can’t believe this is real. I can’t believe that someone really loves me like this.

  He takes a brush from the side table and its bristles feel so nice against my scalp as he works it through my hair. He’s gentle, but firm, long smooth strokes to my shoulder blades, pulling loose any knots with short, sharp tugs. He’s done this before.

      I’m surprised when he splits my hair into three, his fingers so quick at plaiting the length. I hear the twang of a hairband from his wrist and he ties the end.

“Wavy curls in the morning,” he tells me. “Like an angel.”

      “Thanks, Daddy Spencer.”

      Daddy Spencer.

      Spencer.

Using his name that way is my one pathetic safeguard of being… I dunno… being his lover, not just his little girl. I want to cling onto that, and I guess it’s fear. Fear of him seeing me as just a baby. That’s what I feel like, his baby girl.

      And I love that.

      I really love that.

      But I want to be his lover, too.

      His actual lover.

      “You’re tense,” he comments. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

      “Nothing,” I say.

      He sighs. “No secrets, Violet.”

      I shrug. “I guess I’m just scared.”

  “Of what?”

 “I love being your little girl so much that it becomes everything I am.” My own honesty surprises me.

 “Would that be so bad?”

      I shrug again. I picture the kind of women he works with. Important, smart women. Successful women. Grown up women.

      “This is for keeps,” he whispers. “You and me.” His chin rests on my shoulder, his breath warm against my cheek. “Now that I’ve found you, Violet, I’m not ever letting you go.”

      “And that’s what you want? A little girl… to take care of…”

      “I want you,” he says.

      I twist until I can face him, and his eyes are so warm and kind. “I feel like I could stay like this forever. Never grow up. But how could that work?”

      He trails a finger down my cheek. “You’re thinking too much, sweetheart. Worrying unnecessarily.”

Butterflies again, so many butterflies. “I guess I’ve never had to worry about losing anything before. Never had anything worth keeping.”

 “You won’t lose this, Violet. Finding you made life mean something again.”

      I smile. “It did? Really?”   

“Really.” His eyes smile back at me. “Now, stop worrying and drink your milk. It’s bedtime.”

 I bury my face into his neck where it feels so nice, and he holds me tight and kisses my hair while I breathe him in, and my butterflies calm their flapping.

      “Thanks, Daddy.”

•

•

I woke up from a horrible nightmare. A horrible nightmare where Spencer’s introducing me to my new mummy. And she’s beautiful, stylish and smart and all grown up.

She’s wearing heels and red lipstick, and carries a briefcase, and her smile is pearly white as she holds out a hand to me.

 He’s still sleeping soundly when I open my eyes, his breathing calm and steady, his chest to my back. I don’t want to wake him, so I don’t. Just snuggle into his arms and tell myself I’m being stupid, that being a little-y doesn’t mean I’m not a proper lover. We can talk about things. Grown up things.

 I could learn to be like Maggie Connor, and put on some lipstick and some sexy underwear and show him I’m a woman.

      If I wanted to.

And that’s the thing. I’m not sure I want to.

 I love the way it feels to be his little girl. I love how naughty it feels, and how safe I feel.

      I love how it makes him grunt, and makes his eyes so dark, and his cock so big and hard.

      I love Daddy Spencer.

      And that’s what I’m really scared of. Of loving someone as much as this so quickly. Because if I can love him this much already, when I don’t even know him, not really, how much am I going to love him when I’m used to him being my everything?

      He shifts in his sleep, and his arms tighten around my waist.

      He’s already my everything. All other things feel so far away. My old house, my old babysitting routine, Maggie Connor and her chitchat. My mum…

 I haven’t even given her my new number, and she hasn’t tried to reach me. No ping on social media, or desperate messages through Maggie Connor. Nothing.

      I exist only to Spencer .

 And that’s where I want to stay. Forever. Right here.

      In his little girl’s bedroom, with its pink walls and its comfy bed and its pretty things.

      Sugar and spice and all things nice.

That’s what I’ll be made of.

      And Daddy Spencer will love me for it. Forever.

      Just like he would’ve loved his own little girl.