Sheriff Daddy (Montana Daddies Book 10)

by Laylah Roberts

  “You didn’t handle this badly. I did.” She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The truth is, I like reading books about Daddy Doms and Littles. And I’ve done a lot of research into it. I even . . . I even joined a few online support groups for Littles.”

  “I hope you were careful. You know how someone can pretend to be someone they’re not online. You didn’t give away any personal information, did you? You should never—”

  She placed her hand over his mouth. “Ed, are you forgetting what I do for a living?”

  He gave her a sheepish look. Then he licked the palm of her hand.

  “Eek!” She snatched her hand back from his mouth.

  “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

  “About what? Licking my hand?”

  “Oh no, you deserved that. You should never put your hand over Daddy’s mouth. I mean, urgh, my mouth.”

  A delicious pink tinge covered his cheeks at his slip-up. But the thing is, it didn’t feel like a slip-up. It felt right to her.

  “I was always careful. But I had to know whether I was, whether I could be . . . ”

  “A Little?”

  “I have dreamed about finding a Daddy and I have dreaded it. Because I’m not supposed to be like this, darn it.” She slammed her fists down on her thighs.

  “Hey, hurting yourself is not allowed, understand?” He took her hands in his.

  “I wasn’t trying to hurt myself . . . not really.”

  “Do you ever try to punish yourself?”

  “You mean other than overthinking everything until I feel ill?”

  “Shit, that’s not healthy.”

  “Maybe I really do need a spanking. That’s what a punishment is meant to do, right? Rid you of guilt?”

  “And hopefully prevent you from making the same mistake again.”

  So maybe it would work for her. Because she was sick of feeling guilty for being a stuff-up, for not being a good James. For not being good enough. Less than perfect was not acceptable.

  “Would you punish me for not doing something right? For not being good enough at something?”

  His eyes flared. “No. Never.”

  “Even if I asked for it?”

  “Baby, that’s not something you should ever be punished for. There’s a vast difference between breaking a rule for your health and safety or a rule that’s for something you need help with and agree to, and being punished for not being . . .”

  “Good enough?” she whispered.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “You are good enough. I don’t know where this is coming from, but Georgina Catherine, you are beautiful, brave, smart and you are better than good enough. You are everything.”

  She closed her eyes. She wished she was. But she did feel his words placing a balm on the hurt to her soul. Silencing the voice inside, telling her that she’d never get it right. She knew exactly where that voice came from. She felt this way every time she talked to her mother.

  “Where is this coming from?” he asked gently.

  “My mother. She has a certain view on the way a James should act. And I frequently don’t live up to that view.”

  “I know she’s your mother, so I don’t want to overstep, but fuck her.”

  She gaped at him. Then she let out a giggle. “Oh God, sorry. I was just imagining her face if you said that to her.”

  “Next time she tries to fill your head with bullshit like what you just spouted off to me, I will happily tell her that. If she’s being toxic, causing you to think bad things about yourself and you need a buffer, I’ll be that barrier. I’ll stand between you and the world if you need it. I’ll also stand behind you to be your support. What I won’t do is stand idly by while she abuses you.”

  “It’s not abuse,” she protested.

  “You sure about that? Granted, I don’t know it all. But from what you’ve just said . . . abuse isn’t always visible. It’s not always physical. I don’t think I need to tell you that.”

  She sucked in a breath. He was right. But she still felt like this was her battle to fight.

  “Sometimes, you have to cut toxic from your life, in order to live. But I think I’m overstepping when I don’t know all the details. But I am protective of the people I care about. There wasn’t a day that went by I haven’t thought about you and that kiss. Haven’t wanted to track you down, and pull you back into my lair.”

  “And now I’m here.”

  “You are.”

  “And you want to . . . to try and see . . . I mean, you’re a Daddy Dom and I . . . what if I don’t like it?” she blurted out her worry.

  “You won’t know until you try,” he soothed. “And you might find there are some things you like, others that you don’t. There’re no rules about what sort of Little you have to be.” Leaning closer, he kissed her lightly. “Now, I owe you a treat and I think we’ve done enough serious talking. There’s no pressure or time limit. Like I said, I think it would help manage your stress, but the next part is up to you. It’s about what you want to do. You need to get some rest. How about a movie on the couch under a blanket? I’ll get you your treat.”

  “Ed.” She reached out her hand and placed it on his arm.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything. I just . . . I’ve never had anyone I could talk to about any of this stuff. I might have a lot of questions.”

  “Questions are good. What’s not good is having them and not asking, okay?” he asked firmly.

  “Yeah. Okay. I have a question right now, actually.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “You weren’t serious when you said you wanted me to sit on your lap every time. Right?”

  He just smiled.

  23

  “Let’s get you settled on the couch. Unless you’re too tired and want to go have a nap?”

  Tired? No, she didn’t feel tired. She felt like a hundred volts of electricity had been shot through her. All her nerve endings were alight. She was ultra-aware of him. Of everything he did or said.

  But maybe she should go to bed. Calm herself down. Except she’d probably just lie awake, worrying about everything.

  “I’m not tired.”

  He studied her carefully. Reaching out, he ran his thumb under her eye. “You look exhausted, but we’ll see how you do. Now, I did promise you a treat if you were a good girl.”

  Those words. Shoot. What was wrong with her?

  Moving over to the pantry, he reached up high, pulling out a small bar of something. Her breath caught. He’d remembered that Hershey’s milk chocolate was her favorite.

  He broke off three pieces and she held out her hand, thinking he would give her the block so she could break off how much she wanted.

  To her surprise, he kept hold of both. Then he put the block back. She frowned. “I thought it was my treat.”

  “It is.”

  “Then can I have it?” She watched the chocolate intently, as though it might disappear from his hand. He put the pieces on a small plate and grabbed her bottle of water.

  “You can have it when I give it to you,” he told her. “Now, stay where you are. I’ll come back for you.”

  “Why don’t I just walk—”

  He just gave her a firm look before heading into the living area. Right. No walking. She sucked in a breath, unable to believe everything they’d just talked about.

  Take some time to think about it.

  Thinking about things had always been her problem, though, hadn’t it? Or overthinking things.

  “Seems I can’t leave you alone for too long,” he murmured from behind her.

  She let out a small scream, jumping from the counter and turning. Except she moved so fast that she whacked her hand against the counter. She bit down on her lip to stop herself from crying out in pain.

  Ouchie.

  “Aww, Georgie, shit. That sounded like it hurt.” He moved swiftly around the counter a
nd gently clasped hold of her hand. He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m not doing a very good job of taking care of you, am I? An injured foot and now a sore hand.”

  “You’re doing a great job,” she defended him.

  “Really?” He walked over to the freezer and pulled out that same bag of frozen peas he’d been using on his dildo injury earlier. He must have put them back in.

  He placed them on her hand. “I need to get some of those cute icy packs. Seems like I might be needing them.”

  “It’s really not that bad. I don’t know why I’m a klutz today.”

  “Maybe it’s because you feel safe. I hope it is.”

  She sucked in a breath. Could he be right? But she felt safe in her apartment and she was never clumsy there.

  Did she, though? She hated being on her own. Sleeping was difficult, especially lately. And she was always slightly jumpy, even though Marcus had set up her security system and performed background checks on all her neighbors.

  She wondered why Ed’s overprotectiveness didn’t annoy her as much as her brothers’ did. When they fussed, she wanted to whack their heads together. When he fussed, her insides turned to mush.

  “I’m not used to feeling safe.”

  He gave her a serious look. “Let’s change that, then.”

  She really couldn’t believe he was making her sit on his lap.

  The fire was roaring, some romantic comedy movie was on. But if you asked her about it, she couldn’t have told you what was going on. Because all her attention remained on the man she was sitting on.

  Well, she was kind of snuggled up in beside him. Her thigh resting over his legs, her head was tucked into his chest.

  She had an idea why he’d made this ridiculous rule. For the same reason that he’d made rules about hugging and kissing. Because she’d told him that she wasn’t used to physical affection. It wasn’t until she had Ed touching her every chance he got that she realized how starved for affection she was.

  She’d be in heaven, if it wasn’t for one small problem.

  Her stomach.

  Not only had she eaten a much bigger portion for lunch than she normally would, but then she’d scoffed down three pieces of chocolate.

  “You okay, Georgie-girl?” Ed asked as she shifted around.

  “Fine, honey bun.”

  Liar.

  A clap of thunder suddenly made her gasp.

  “Wondered when that would hit. You scared of thunder?”

  She could use that as an excuse for why she kept fidgeting. But she felt like she was already keeping enough secrets. “No, I’m all right with thunder as long as it’s not dark.” That was a big thing for her to admit. Letting someone else know she had a weakness . . . that wasn’t something a James did.

  “What’s something a James doesn’t do?” he asked.

  Crap. She’d said that out loud?

  He shifted her so her back was against his firm stomach. She held herself stiffly. What did she do? Should she lean against him?

  He made the decision for her, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her into him. “Relax,” he whispered to her. “I’m not going to bite.”

  Bummer.

  “Bummer?”

  “Urgh, I’ll tell you what a James doesn’t do, and that’s blurt out everything they’re thinking!”

  His chest moved as he laughed. Unfortunately, that didn’t help her stomach calm.

  “I think it’s cute. Helps me know what you’re thinking. Although that wasn’t what you were talking about, was it?”

  “I’m letting you know about all of my weaknesses,” she complained.

  “And why do you think that is?”

  “Because I seem to have a filter issue when it comes to you? Maybe you’ve done some special voodoo on me that makes me tell you my every thought.”

  He leaned in and lightly bit her ear. A shiver ran through her. “There it is. Special voodoo.”

  He laughed.

  “And I thought you said you didn’t bite?” she asked.

  “I only bite when I think you might like it. Now, were you ever going to tell me that your tummy hurts?”

  “Urgh, I thought I was hiding it well.”

  “Yeah, honey, you totally weren’t. What’s the matter?”

  “Think I ate too much. Or maybe it was the chocolate. I don’t know.”

  “Shit. Should have thought of that. What can I do to help? What do you need? A heat pad? Some club soda?”

  “It’s fine.” She blushed at his fussing. She’d figured he’d just shrug it off and leave her to deal with it. “I’m—”

  He reached around and placed his hand over her mouth. “If you say you’re fine, I’m going to have to do something drastic.”

  He removed his hand.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe every time you say the word fine, I’ll have to tickle you. I could make you kiss me, but then you’d just do it more.”

  She turned to gape at him.

  “I know how much you like kissing me.” He shook his head. “Yeah, you’d be saying you were fine every few minutes.”

  She had to laugh. “You are so full of yourself.”

  “Hmm, what could I do to get you to stop saying that you’re fine?” He tapped his finger against his chin and studied her. “I know, I could make you stand in the corner. A minute for every time you say you’re fine. I reckon by the end of the day, you’d be standing in the corner for an hour.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  His face dropped. “You’re right. I forgot about your foot. Of course, that won’t take long to heal.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant! I’m not standing in the corner.”

  “All right, writing lines it is. Every time you say you’re fine you have to write five lines. Something like, ‘I will not say I’m fine when I am not.’”

  He wouldn’t! Would he? Oh hell, what did she know? He probably would. She narrowed her gaze at him. “That’s not very nice, Daddy.”

  Oh shoot. She slammed her hand over her mouth. There went that filter. But before she could say anything to him, her stomach chose that moment to protest. She groaned, grabbing at it.

  “Ouch.”

  “Do you feel sick?”

  “No, I just . . . can you get my handbag?”

  “Why? What’s wrong? What do you need?”

  She rubbed at the burning in her stomach. “Ed, handbag. Please.”

  Standing, he set her down on the chair.

  “You’re too pale. And in pain. I don’t like it. Maybe it’s your appendix.”

  “It’s not my appendix.”

  “I’m calling Xavier.”

  “No, Ed!” she protested as he left. Shoot. All she needed was her handbag. She knew that she’d probably just eaten too much and her stomach was protesting. Some antacids and she’d be fine.

  She stood. Where did she put her handbag?

  “What are you doing?” Ed snapped, startling her.

  “Sheesh, give a girl a heart attack. I’m looking for my handbag.”

  He strode towards her, his arms piled high with blankets. “You’re not supposed to be walking around. Lie down. I’ll get it for you.”

  “Ed, you’re over-reacting. My stomach’s just sore because I ate too much. I just need some antacids. Which are in my purse.”

  “I don’t think you should take those until we check with Xavier,” he told her. Then he gently arranged her on the sofa and started piling blanket after blanket on top of her.

  After two, she started to sweat. By the time he put blanket number four over her, she felt like she was suffocating. He didn’t need to worry about the tummy ache doing her in, she was going to expire from overheating.

  He had his phone out, no doubt calling Xavier as he grabbed her handbag and a bowl.

  “Xavier, it’s Georgie. She’s not well.”

  “I’m fine, Xavier,” she called out loudly. She tried to break her way free from the p
ile of blankets to grab her handbag. But he’d tucked them around under her.

  “Fine, I’ll put you on video call,” Ed muttered into the phone.

  “Hello, sweetheart, how are you?” Xavier asked.

  She gave the phone a disgruntled look. Xavier smiled through the screen at her. “Ed won’t let me walk anywhere. I have a sore tummy because I ate too much and I just need some antacids. But Ed insisted on calling you and now I’m sweating under a pile of blankets. And embarrassed.”

  “All right, you do look a bit flushed and sweaty. Ed, I think you can remove the blankets.”

  “What if it’s her appendix? What if it’s about to rupture? Should I bring her into the hospital?” Ed asked as he drew the blankets off.

  She gave a sigh of relief. Then she grabbed her handbag and pulled out some antacids. “It’s just indigestion.”

  “Should she take those?” Ed snatched up the antacids.

  “Hey!” she protested, trying to snatch them back.

  “I think I should bring her in. Or you should come here to check on her.”

  “A storm is about to hit. And Xavier has actual sick people to take care of,” she griped at Ed.

  “How about we talk about what hurts, sweetheart,” Xavier soothed.

  “Fine,” she muttered.

  Ed gave her a firm look.

  “I didn’t say I was fine!” No way did she want to be writing lines right now. She grimaced at the burning in her stomach. Then she answered Xavier’s questions. Finally, he sent Ed off to get a thermometer.

  “I really am fine, Xavier,” she told him. “It’s just indigestion.”

  “Sounds like it. I sent him for the thermometer to give him something to do. Help calm him down. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine.” She winced as Ed walked back in and heard those words. Uh-oh. “I’m good. I’ve been resting, eating, everything I’m supposed to be doing.”

  “I’ve only got the kind of thermometer that goes in the ear,” Ed grumbled. “Will that work okay? I need to get a rectal one.”

  “Ed!” she protested.

  “What?” He stared down at her. “Is something wrong? Xavier?”

  “You are not ever using a rectal thermometer on me,” she hissed at Ed.

  “We’ll see,” Ed replied. He brushed the hair from her ear and placed the thermometer inside.