Page 114 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)
“Well, I guess that’s a possibility,” Clay said thoughtfully.
“Strangers don’t stay strange for long here.
City life might appeal more to you. I mean, what are the chances your landlord terminates your lease, or your boss fires you for some stupid reason?
Swings and balances, sweetling. Whatever you decide, it’ll all turn out okay in the end. ”
“Spiritualist and optimist.”
“Stop procrastinating, Avery—another Little trait, if I might point that out.” Smirking, he dragged her up the stairs and through the door into the anteroom.
Her curses were thick, fast, and not ladylike at all.
“For future reference, should you find yourself a Daddy, don’t be surprised if he spanks your ass. ”
“What the hell for?”
He plucked the paperwork from her other hand and shoved it into a locker.
“Why, that potty mouth, of course. Some Daddies have their own methods of correcting bad language—spanking just isn’t quite effective enough for some Littles.
There’s washing dirty mouths out with soap, paddling, caning in extreme circumstances.
Butt plugs are valuable tools, as is figging.
” He flicked his fingers at her feet. “Kick off your shoes, sweetling.”
“Why?”
“Because if I’m right about you, your Little won’t come out to play when you’re all serious and grown up. Your shoes scream adult . Humor me.”
She didn’t disappoint.
Marching in on a mission to debunk his theory, she made it three steps into the Nursery before her pace slowed… stopped.
Damn, he loved being right.
Her expression was exactly what he was expecting; it was like watching a kid running riot in a candy store before the frazzled parent rushed in to stop the impending carnage.
Maybe she didn’t realize what she was doing, but she was fighting her Little, valiantly attempting to keep her from surfacing.
The problem with the Nursery was there were too many stimuli available to let that happen.
Bright, vibrant colors lured Littles into the play areas along with a vast array of different toys and activities; the napping area was decorated in softer pastel colors designed for quieter, more peaceful downtime in the sea of beanbags, sleeping bags, chairs and daybeds.
Clay touched his fingertips to her back, eyebrow arching when he understood just how hard the two halves of her were battling each other. She was physically vibrating with the need to play, her muscles trembling with the urge to let loose.
Was the asshole ex responsible for this level of repression?
This wouldn’t do at all.
Sliding effortlessly into the role of Daddy, he lowered his voice to an octave that was both soothing and inarguable. “Sweetling, I do believe Mistress Ericka replaced the sand in the sandbox this morning. It’s all clean and soft.”
She beseeched him with those big, dark eyes as if begging him not to make the craving worse, but a good Daddy pushed his Little’s boundaries. She wasn’t his, maybe wouldn’t ever be, but she wouldn’t be anybody’s if she didn’t cut the chains restraining a vital part of herself.
Spying the newest addition to the toy inventory in the far corner, he grasped her shoulders and pointed her at it. If fresh sand wasn’t enough to pull her in, she couldn’t be strong enough to resist the adult-sized rocking horse in the corner.
He heard her gasp of delight, her small whine of pure need.
Gotcha .
“Would you like to ride the pony, Avery?”
A chain clinked free when she took a step forward.
“Look how pretty he is,” Clay coaxed gently. “That glossy gray coat with all those dapples is just begging to be stroked, sweetling. His mane looks silky-soft, doesn’t it? Bet it’ll feel real good between your fingers.”
Clink . Another step, another chain gone.
“Go on, Avery. Be brave. There’s only us here, you can be free for a little while.”
The moment she gave in was extraordinary.
A visible shudder ran through her, as though shaking off the rest of the chains, then she bounced on her tiptoes and giggled.
With a fleeting glance at him, she darted away, running to the carved wooden horse and scrambling to climb on the leather saddle as it began to sway.
Grinning, Clay ambled over, enjoying the way the fabric of her pants stretched over her curvy ass. It was perfectly clear she’d never been on a horse in her life, but he’d be damned if he didn’t appreciate her enthusiastic efforts.
When he reached her, she was clinging to the saddle, kicking her legs and laughing at her futile attempts to get on. “Lift your left leg, Avery.”
“Don’t wanna.” Her voice was slightly higher, full of mischief.
“Do you want to ride the pony or just cling to it like a monkey?” To his delight, she cackled and started to make monkey noises. Clamping his hands on her hips, Clay boosted her up and into the saddle to save time. “There. Ride him like you stole him, sweetling.”
For a split second, adult Avery tried to make a comeback, a hint of embarrassment bringing color to her cheeks.
Clay set his hand on the polished, painted wooden rump and gave it a shove to set it into motion. The horse swung back and forth on the safety stand, and adult Avery disappeared in a heartbeat.
Gripping the mane in both hands for dear life, she squealed loudly.
He lost track of time, simply watching her. Who knew a woman surrendering to a younger version of herself could be so enlightening? For most, childhood was a fleeting memory, a rolling series of events compressed into a highlight reel of the most important.
Littles had a pretty sweet deal, in his opinion.
Reliving the best part of being a kid without the stress and subtle traumas picked up from the real thing.
They had the ability to be free in a way the general population would never understand, and many had the love and support of a Mommy or Daddy to keep them on the straight and narrow.
“This is not the residential cabin for employees, Clay.” The voice was low, soft, and so fucking lyrical with its Louisiana accent.
“But it is a cabin,” he replied easily, giving Violet the side eye. “Has it been an hour already?”
“Almost.” A smile fluttered around her mouth as she studied Avery. “She seems like she’s well suited for our unorthodox family. Callie and Sierra will be pleased to have another Little around if she stays.”
“She will. Now her Little has come out to play, she’ll struggle to get her back in the box.
” Clay felt his heart melt when Avery stroked her hand down the horse’s smooth neck, then leaned forward to rest her cheek against the wood; he’d done that more than once himself, only his steed hadn’t been painted and polished, but dirty, scratched, and exhausted.
Head tilted, warm brown eyes assessing him now, Violet’s mouth curved. “Do you have an itch to be a Daddy, Clay?”
“Oddly enough, it never crossed my mind. My role here is to be whatever the guests need.”
Her smile widened. “Yes, but you’ve got your eye on her, and she is not a guest.”
“There’s no rule against employees scening with other employees,” he pointed out without hesitation. “Besides, isn’t it the aim of this place to encourage and guide members of the community? Avery has needs she doesn’t understand, and her confidence really needs a boost.”
“Wallflowers don’t stay on the sidelines for long around here. If this is where she’s meant to be, she’ll flourish.” She gripped his wrist, tilting his watch toward her. “I hate to be the one breaking up playtime, Clay, but I’ve got an appointment. If Avery needs a ride home, we have to go.”
He really wanted to dig his heels in and refuse to let her go, but now wasn’t the time.
She might change her mind about working here; releasing her Little might scare her away from the one place where she was welcome as both halves of herself if she wasn’t ready to embrace them both, but that was ultimately her choice, not his.
He just had to believe she was strong enough, curious enough, to come back. Hopefully, she would recognize she belonged here. If not… well, he might have to hone his wooing skills and spend his spare time driving into the city to put them to good use.
“Let me see if I can pry her off the horse.” It might take a crowbar, he thought. “Avery.”
Her dark head lifted, those eyes locking on his. Whatever she saw on his face brought a mulish expression to hers—yes, a crowbar and brute strength might be necessary. “No.”
“Playtime’s over, sweetling.”
That lush mouth formed a pout. It didn’t take much imagination to visualize biting those full lips, nipping them in admonishment. “Don’t wanna go home.”
“I know. Unfortunately, your ride has a time limit, Avery.” He walked over and set his hand on her thigh, relishing the quiver of the muscle. Would she tremble this way wherever he touched? “The pony will still be here when you come back.”
The pout deepened. “Bramble.”
“Bramble will still be here,” he corrected easily. “Now, come on down. Don’t want to keep Mistress Violet waiting, do we?”
Dark eyes slid sulkily toward the Domme. “Not supposed to takes rides with strangers.”
Laughing, Clay plucked her off the saddle before she thought to attach herself to the rocking horse using its mane as an anchor point. “When you find your stride, you’re gonna be the princess of brats. God help us all.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Princess?”
“Gonna have to give the reigning queen a run for her title if you want it,” he said, setting her on her feet, then bending to retrieve her reindeer. “It’s only a couple weeks, Avery. They’ll fly by.”
Her sigh was quiet, wistful. Completely adult. She took the stuffie, cradling it to her chest. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for; you’re entitled to some fun.” Setting his hand on her lower back, he walked her over to their companion. “Avery, let me introduce you to Mistress Violet. Violet, meet Avery.”
“A pleasure.” The Mistress smiled.
“I…” Avery nodded slowly. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m taking you home. I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that part of the city, so you may need to direct me.” The smile didn’t waver, but Violet’s eyes—similar to Avery’s—brightened with interest. “It’s been a while since I’ve had girl talk with a fresh face.”
“Why don’t you get your shoes and paperwork from the locker?” Clay suggested. “Violet and I will be right behind you.”
Avery sent him a grateful look before hurrying across the room. He made a mental note of what caught her attention, slowing her pace, as she passed different activities.
“Daddy Clay,” Violet drawled, dragging the three syllables out slowly. “Has a ring to it. Never pegged you as the Daddy Dom type, but it suits you.”
“You’ve never pegged me at all.” Grin flashing, he shrugged his shoulders. “She brings out specific… urges in me, that’s all. Just because she lost control of her Little for an hour on the rocking horse doesn’t mean she’s going to embrace her, or even want a Daddy if she does.”
“Would you like me to do some gentle digging?”
“No, thanks.” He wanted to be the one who unearthed her secrets, reading every flicker of emotion and quiet nuance of her body language if she let him.
“She’ll come to me if this is meant to be.
Push too hard now… she’ll lock her Little down and deny her existence.
Let her think this over and come to her own conclusions. ”
Violet patted his arm. “You’re the Daddy.”