Page 28 of Layla's Daddy

I could be sleeping in it. I could snuggle up in Daddy’s arms and spend all night with him. I could also have his cock inside me. All I need to do is let myself believe this is my life.

It feels too good to be true. I’m not the sort of girl who has good luck. I’m not the sort of girl who finds the perfect Daddy and lives happily ever after.

I’m usually Little, nearly all the time, because I haven’t left the house much since I got here. We went to see Dr. Rubio once so he could verify I’m on the mend. We went to lunch that day, too. We went shopping another day.

I get nervous when we leave the house. I worry about separating my Little from my adult. I’ve been doing so for years, so it’s odd that I suddenly struggle, but I know why it’s hard. It’s because I have Daddy. No matter where we are, he’s still my Daddy, and when I look at him, I’m Little.

Daddy has a certain expression I’ve learned to recognize. I often see it when we’re out. His brow furrows slightly, and he licks his lips as though that action gives him a moment to formulate his thoughts. Then he leans down, cups the back of my neck, and whispers in my ear.

When he does this, I know his words will be so dominant my panties will get wet. It’s like he either can’t help himself—the need to dominate me so strong—or he intentionally likes to assert his authority over me when we’re out.

He does it at home, too, but it’s not the same at home. I don’t have to worry about people seeing me slide into a deeper Little space.

It doesn’t matter what he says into my ear. It’s often simple. That’s not what matters. It’s the control I feel exuding from him that matters.

“Stay by my side while we’re in the store, Baby girl.”

“Do not let go of my hand while we walk to the car, Little one.”

“If you’re a good girl at the doctor, I’ll let you have a lollipop afterward.”

Every time he makes commands like those, my nipples get hard and my pussy clenches.

The lollipop promises are the best. Daddy has purchased an entire box of blue lollipops. He hands me one when he’s particularly proud of me. It’s a treat, and it makes me feel proud of myself.

I shuffle back to my nursery and stand in the middle of the room, turning around in circles. I’m glad I already took my math test because my headspace is not on math.

I love this room so much. Every few days, Daddy adds something that makes it even better. He’s so good at paying close attention to what I say and making my wishes a reality. If I mention a book I like, it shows up on my shelf. If I tell him how much fun I had putting together a certain puzzle, he buys two more the next day. I have to be careful that I’m always honest about my likes and dislikes, otherwise I’ll end up spending my life having to pretend I like broccoli or crossword puzzles.

My life…

My heart races as I wander around my nursery. It’s so perfect. Every time I step into this space, a weight lifts off my shoulders. The outside world ceases to exist. In here, I’m Little. I’m free to be myself with no fear of being judged.

I leave the nursery and return to the master bedroom, stepping all the way inside this time. I take my time easing toward the bed. This could be my room, too. A different sort of room. It has a different vibe and evokes different feelings inside me.

In Daddy’s room, I close my eyes and imagine myself naked on his bed. I can be my adult in here. I can be sexy and desirable. I can wear lingerie that will tease him and lure him into taking his clothes off.

I want this. I want this side of myself, too. I’m not just Little Layla. I’m also Theo’s woman. His life partner. His lover.

I drag my fingers along the comforter on his bed. Chills race up my spine. I can have this. I just have to trust. I do trust Daddy. I know it in my heart. He loves me. Maybe most people would say we moved too fast, but we didn’t. All we did was follow our hearts.

My heart is his.

It’s time to shed my fears and take a risk. Jump in with both feet. Give all of myself to him.

I love him. It’s not a risk at all. He’s my world. It’s not as though I could wake up tomorrow and walk away. I would never walk away. Yes, my heart is on the line, but there’s no way to avoid that.

Something could happen to one of us. We could get hit by a bus, but even if I knew that might happen, would I turn away from him? Never. I can’t. He’s my Daddy. My man. My life.

Suddenly I know with absolute certainty what I need to do.

Chapter Thirteen

It’s hard to keep a straight face when I hear the garage door go up and then thirty seconds later the alarm disarm and reset. I have to bite my tongue as Daddy’s footsteps land heavy on the stairs. He takes them two at a time at a pretty rapid clip because he always hurries to get to me.

“I’m home, Little one,” he calls out, and I know he’s reached my nursery, but I’m not in there.

“Layla?” His voice has an edge of panic to it when he calls out my name.