Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
This was definitely a first for him.
He wondered what she’d think if she remembered this in the morning.
Maybe it made him a bad person, but he had to grin at the thought of her reaction.
“Sing, Daddy!”
“What?”
“You gotta sing, or I can’t go.”
That was strange. He was certain that wasn’t a rule.
“I don’t sing.” That wasn’t entirely true. But he only ever sang when he was in the mood to kill.
“It’s okay if you sound bad. I just need you to sing.”
Devil take him.
He racked his brain, but couldn’t come up with anything except for The Devil Went Down To Georgia. So, he started singing that. She started peeing with a sigh.
“Tanks, Daddy, you da best.”
Tanks? Did she mean thanks?
And yes, he was the best. But it was still good to hear it.
After helping her stand, and then pulling up her pants, she was almost comatose. He carried her back to bed, but when he tried to tuck her in she clung to him.
“Baby?”
“Don’t let go yet, Daddy.”
“I won’t.” He stood and just held her. What now?
Hmm. Maybe he could sit somewhere with her.
“Freddy Fox? Where’s Freddy? I need my foxy!”
Fuck. He shouldn’t get hard over that. She wasn’t talking about him. She was talking about that damn soft toy.
Was it strange to feel jealous of a toy? More than likely . . .
Where was it?
The little toy was never far from her.
“Daddy, I needs him!”
For some reason, her words sent a surge of urgency through him. His baby needed her stuffie, and damned if he was going to fail her. “I’ll find him. Stay here.”
Eventually, he found the toy in the living room on the couch, which filled him with a sense of accomplishment. When he walked into the bedroom and presented the toy to her, she gave him a huge smile.
Wow, he only ever felt this good after he’d, you know, assassinated someone.
“Thank you, Daddy. You such a good Daddy.”
“I am, aren’t I?”
She held up her arms. “Up.”
Would she remember any of this? He wasn’t sure. But he lifted her back into his arms. An idea occurred to him. He walked into the kitchen and set her on the counter.
“Daddy. Need you.”
“I’m coming back.” He opened the drawer where she kept the things for her Little and drew out a baby bottle.
“You need some water and painkiller before you sleep.” He patted himself on the back for remembering that.
After filling the baby bottle with water, he carried her into the bathroom to give her some painkiller. He set her on top of the vanity before pouring some liquid painkiller into a measuring cup.
“Open up,” he said, knowing she’d obey him immediately.
She shook her head.
Well. That was a blow to the ego.
Luckily, his ego was bigger than a normal man’s. It could take a minor blow like this and barely feel it. Still, he’d be telling her off for this. Once she felt better, of course.
He wasn’t a monster, after all.
Actually, yes, he was. But he was her monster.
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. Then she groaned, holding it. “Ouch. Hurts.”
“Which is why you need some painkiller.”
“No. Yucky.”
The stern look he gave her should have had her scrambling to obey.
It did not.
“Open up,” he repeated.
She pressed her lips together, looking mutinous.
“Baby girl,” he warned. “Don’t be naughty.”
“It’s yuck, Daddy and you can’t get me to take it.”
Shit.
How did he get her to take it? How was this happening?
“Unless I get a sucker after,” she proclaimed. “That is my final offer.”
Why the little brat.
“I have a counter offer.”
She eyed him warily.
“Take the medicine, no sucker, and I won’t come back tomorrow night and smack your naughty bottom.”
She gave a theatrical gasp. “Daddy, my bottom is not naughty. It’s a good girl bottom.”
“Uh-huh. Good girls take their medicine and listen to their Daddy.”
Her lower lip dropped out. “You’re saying I isn’t a good girl, Daddy?” A tear dripped down her cheek.
Shit. Fuck.
What did he do?
“That’s not what I said! You are a good girl. You’re always my good girl. Just . . . you need to listen to your Daddy.”
“Oh. Okay, Daddy.” She gave him an angelic smile then opened her mouth.
He had whiplash.
What was going on?
Letting out a deep breath, he gave her the medicine then picked her up along with her bottle and walked with her into her spare room.
Ahh. There it was. The rocking chair. Grabbing a soft blanket, he sat in the rocking chair and wrapped the blanket around her, settling her on his lap. As he rocked, he held the nipple of the bottle to her lips. She took a few sips, then drew back.
“Ew. Water, Daddy? Really?”
“Yes. You need water.”
“You’re such a bummer, Daddy.”
A bummer? He was a bummer?
“I am not a bummer. Now, drink your water.”
To his relief, she started sucking on the nipple again. Her eyes closed as she wrapped her hand in his shirt. When the bottle was finished, he slid it out of her mouth. Standing, he carried her back to bed. As he put her down, she opened her eyes, staring up at him.