Page 5 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)

Chapter Four

Ezra

A sense of wonder fills me as Nicole sighs and snuggles deeper into my embrace.

Our very own Little girl, at last. Granted, she is a bit more of a handful than I’d anticipated, but in retrospect we should have expected her to fight back at first. It’s an understandable reaction to waking up in a strange bedroom with two men you’ve never met before hovering over you.

Which is the only reason I went so easy on her.

Hopefully she’s learned her lesson about using naughty words, or she’ll be tasting soap for a week.

“Bath’s ready!” Byron calls from the bathroom and I ease up from the chair, Nicole still cradled in my arms.

My best friend and lover is kneeling beside the tub when we enter and his eyes light with joy at the sight of our Little girl in my arms, and my heart constricts in my chest. We’ve wanted this for so long, but we’d been starting to worry it would never actually happen for us.

Now, though, our family is finally complete.

We work together to strip our little one down and help her into the tub.

Luckily for everyone involved, she doesn’t protest. Sniffling quietly, she reaches for one of the many rubber duckies floating atop a sea of pink bubbles.

The one she grabs is dressed like a pirate, and she giggles as she uses it to dunk an astronaut duckie under the water.

I take a seat on the long chaise lounge on the far side of the bathroom and watch her play. Byron has always had such an affinity for these things, and I know his presence is likely to put her more at ease than mine just now.

And, if I’m being honest about it all, I simply enjoy watching him.

He’s completely in his element, helping her form a game of some sort with the duckies, their laughter echoing around the bathroom together.

Our little princess doesn’t even protest when he washes her hair and combs the tangles out, though she does wince every now and again when he hits a particularly tough tangle.

“Up on your knees, princess. Daddy needs to wash your bottom.”

Now she does protest, her nose wrinkling up as she shakes her head. “No. I don’t want you to do that.”

As proud as I am that she has obviously learned to speak up for herself, she’s going to have a long road ahead of her if she continues arguing with us about everything.

“Nicole.” There’s a hint of warning in Byron’s voice that has my already aching cock jerking in my pants. “If you don’t want another spanking, you will do as you’re told. Please get up on your hands and knees so I can wash your bottom.”

Eyes blazing, she jerks her head up to glare at him. “No! I can do it myself!”

A familiar excitement courses through my veins as I watch the scene unfold. Watching a spanking is almost as enjoyable as delivering one myself, and I can’t wait to see Byron in action with our naughty little girl.

But that isn’t what happens. Sighing, Byron squirts some body wash onto a washcloth and hands it to her. “All right. But just this once, princess. After today, one of your Daddies will always wash your bottom. Understood?”

It doesn’t escape my notice that Nicole doesn’t actually agree, she simply takes the offered washcloth and proceeds to clean herself under Byron’s steady gaze.

A reprimand burns on my tongue, but I swallow it down. For now, Byron and I need to present a united front. Nicole needs to see us perhaps not as equals, but as equally in charge of her, and scolding Byron for going too easy on her will only undermine his authority.

So I will wait. And when we finally have a moment alone, I will remind my naughty boy what happens when he lets a sweet Little girl get under his skin.

Nicole

Bathtime is more fun than I’d expected. Fun enough that I’m able to mostly ignore being naked in front of these men I don’t know. Right up until Byron tells me to get on my knees so he can clean my bottom.

Umm, no thank you, Sir. I’ve been washing my own ass for as long as I can remember, I got this.

Thankfully, he doesn't push the issue, though it’s clear from the look Ezra is sending our way that he doesn’t approve.

Well, too bad, Mr. Grumpypants.

Eventually, Byron deems me clean enough to get out of the tub. I try to take the towel from him to dry myself, but all that does is earn me a swat to my wet bottom, which hurts way worse than a dry bottom as it turns out.

Sniffling, I rub the offended spot and pout up at him. And just as I’d expected, he immediately softens, his smile returning as he wraps the towel around me.

“Little girls don’t take care of themselves,” he scolds softly, scooping me up into his arms. “Even for something as simple as drying yourself off. Okay, princess?”

“Okay,” I say with an exaggerated sigh. I deliberately leave off the “Daddy” part, mostly because I’m not calling them Daddy unless they make me and also because I’m curious to see how Byron reacts. I have a hunch he’s the soft touch of the duo, which makes him my target for getting what I want.

And my hunch is confirmed when he doesn’t scold me for not calling him Daddy and instead snuggles me tightly in response to my sigh.

Carrying me back into the bedroom, he sits me on a tall, padded table. Something about it seems familiar, like I should know what it’s used for, but I can’t quite place it.

Grumpy Daddy Ezra follows us into the bedroom and reaches for my towel. When I swat his hand away, clutching the towel closer to my chest to preserve some sense of dignity, his expression darkens.

“It seems our Little girl is still having trouble keeping her hands to herself, Byron.”

The look Byron sends me isn’t one of censure, but almost pleading. “I’m sure she’ll be on her best behavior for us. Won't you, princess?”

“If you let me dress myself, sure.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t an option,” Ezra says. “Byron, a little help, please?”

Whatever he has planned, it can’t be good because Byron sends me another of those looks like he’s silently begging me to behave before turning his attention to his grouchy counterpart. “Is that really necessary, Ezra?”

“You know it is. We don’t want our little one to hurt herself.”

With a soft sigh, Byron nods. “You’re right. I know you’re right, I just hate to see her upset.”

Oh, yeah, something is definitely about to go down. “What are you talking about?” I manage to keep the f-bombs out of my question, though I doubt it sounds any more respectful than when I was dropping them left and right.

Instead of answering me, they move as one, Byron pulling the towel from me and laying me flat on my back before I can even process what’s happening. A moment later, Ezra tugs on a strip of thick black leather, buckling it in place over my stomach.

“Hey! What are you doing? Let me go!”

I try to kick out, but Byron already has a hold on my legs. And Ezra is busy strapping my arms to my sides, rendering me effectively immobile.

And, I realize with growing horror, completely at their mercy.

“Please let me go.” Meeting Byron’s eyes, I let the tears come freely, let my bottom lip tremble as my voice drops to a whisper. “Please, please, don’t do this.”

“Shh, princess. Nobody's going to hurt you. Daddy Ezra is just going to put your diaper on and then we’ll see about finding you something pretty to wear for the day. How would you like that?”

I’m so busy trying to decide if I believe the ‘Nobody’s going to hurt you’ line that it takes a moment for my brain to catch up with the rest.

“Wait. Did you say a diaper ?”

Pulling open a drawer in the tall table I’m laying atop, Ezra lifts up what does appear to be a diaper covered in frolicking cartoon rabbits. Only it's far too large for a baby.

“You are not putting me a fu-freaking diaper.” Even if I’m protesting for my life here, I’m smart enough to watch my language after the punishment I’ve already endured.

“We certainly are, little one. Byron, lift her legs for me.”

Byron, the traitor, does as he’s told and raises my legs high in the air so Ezra can slide the soft cotton beneath my ass. Between the two of them, it’s no time at all before I’m swaddled in a diaper and released from my bonds.

The second my hands are free, I reach for the diaper, but Ezra immediately catches my wrists, his dark eyes pinning me with that stern glare that makes my tummy feel all weird.

“If you remove your diaper yourself, you will be wearing it again over a hot, welted bottom. Am I understood, little girl?”

“No! I don’t understand any of this. It’s stupid and I just want to go so I can finish hitchhiking my way to the city.”

Confusion draws his brows together. “Which city?”

“ The city. New York. The Big Apple. That’s where I’m headed.”

My captors share a look before Ezra shifts his gaze back to me. “You were hitchhiking from West Virginia to New York City and you ended up here?”

“Well, I wasn’t hitchhiking the whole way. I drove about eight hours before my car broke down. Didn’t have the money to fix it so I’ve been walking or riding the rest of the way.”

Again, Byron gives me that sympathetic look, and even before he speaks I know he’s going to say something I don’t want to hear.

“Princess… I don’t know how you got so turned around, but you’re nowhere near New York. You’re actually about three hours too far north. And that’s by car. God only knows how long of a walk that would be.”

It takes a moment for what they’re saying to actually process. And when it does, it feels like my entire world has just come crashing down around me. Tears well in my eyes and I’m too exhausted, too fucking defeated to hold them back. “I can’t even run away right. I’m such a loser.”

“Oh, princess.” Unbuckling the strap across my waist, Byron scoops me up in his arms. “You aren’t a loser. You are our sweet, beautiful girl. And I think fate brought you to us for a reason.”

Hiccupping softly, I look up at him. “You don’t mean that.”

“We do.” Ezra runs a gentle hand over my hair, soothing me with that simple touch. “Everything happens for a reason, little one. You’ll see soon. We promise.”

For whatever reason, I almost believe them. The way they’re both looking at me, like I’m some incredible prize they can’t quite believe they’ve won, is so overwhelming it’s hard not to believe them.

A knock on the door distracts all of us, and Byron grins. “I bet that’s our waffles. Come on, princess. I bet you’ll feel better with something in your tummy.”

I doubt it, but I don’t protest. After all, it’s been days since I ate anything at all, and when have waffles ever made anything worse?