“Whoa, stay where you are.”
“Got wet panties.”
He groaned. “I swear. . .I haven’t been so bad to have to endure this kind of torture.”
What was he even talking about?
“I’m going to turn around. Can you take your bra off yourself, while staying seated?”
“Of course, been doing it since I was fifteen. I was a late bloomer.” She sighed. “There’s still not much there.”
He turned and she awkwardly undid her bra. Why wouldn’t her hands work properly?
“I was thinking of getting boobs like Paisley’s. Do you think I’d look good with her boobs?”
“Who the fuck is Paisley?”
“You swear a lot.”
“So, I’ve been told,” he said dryly.
“I didn’t think my dream man would swear so much,” she said as she stood and tried to pull her panties off. A dizzy spell hit her and she slumped forward, banging into his back. Her towel slipped down.
He swore as he turned and grabbed hold of her. He held her against him as he wrapped the towel back around her. Then he lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom.
Somehow, she’d lost her wet panties in the process. Ahh well. Wasn’t like they were very useful anyway.
“Nobody likes wet panties.”
“Depends on how they got wet in the first place,” her dream man muttered. “Let’s get you into bed and I’ll go get some more water for you.”
He set her down on the chair she had in the corner of the room then looked down at the pile of stuffies on her bed.
“I need Moody,” she told him.
“Moody?” He turned back to her.
“Moody the monkey.” She pointed at the worn, creamy-colored monkey. He picked it up, handing it to her. She seized hold and held him up.
“See, smiling.” She turned him over and the smile on his face turned down. “Grumpy.” She then hugged him tight and yawned. “Tired. Sleep.”
“Not yet, baby girl,” he rumbled. “You need to drink some more.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
She didn’t know where her backbone came from. She was tired, though and she didn’t feel like drinking. “No drinking. Sleep.”
“That’s not what’s going to happen. Stay there.” He lifted her up and she sighed.
“I like being carried. Greg. . .” she trailed off, remembering that he didn’t like her talking about her ex.
“Didn’t like carrying you?” he guessed as he tucked her into bed.
She sighed. “Don’t think he could. He had puny muscles. Not like your big ones. I didn’t know I liked big muscles until I dreamed up you.”
Her eyes drifted closed and he shook her gently. “Stay awake, baby girl. You need to drink.”
“Okie-dokie,” she said as she drifted off.
Crap.
That was hands down one of the weirdest experiences he’d ever had. And that was saying something, considering his life.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t remember any of this when she woke up. He shook his head, recalling everything she’d said about her ex.
What a douche.
He stripped off his wet boxers the pulled on his clothes. Moving quickly, he walked next door and grabbed a couple of Gatorades from his beer fridge. He kept them here for the boys when they’d had a few too many.
He looked longingly over at his ruined steak before tossing it in the trash. He’d get something to eat later. He walked back into her house, noting where she needed some security lights. She could also use a deadbolt on her door. He strode into the bedroom to find her cuddling Moody. She was fast asleep.
He sat next to her on the bed. “Sunny, wake up.”
She mumbled something then burrowed deeper under the covers.
“Sunny, wake up. Now.” He injected a sterner note into his voice, expecting instant obedience.
“No.” Her voice was childlike and he sighed.
Christ. Why him?
“Sunny, don’t be naughty. I want you to wake up and drink your bottle,” he quickly tacked on, “of Gatorade.”
“Ew. Yuck. No.”
Well, what the fuck did he do now?
You could leave.
Right. Like he could kick back and relax while worrying about her.
She’s an adult she can take care of herself.
As though to disprove his thought, she rolled over with that damn monkey clutched against her chest. Then she stuffed her thumb into her mouth.
He nearly laughed. Right. Take care of herself, huh? If he hadn’t come over to check on her, would she still be baking in her car? The thought made him feel ill.
She needed a damn keeper.
He took hold of her shoulder, shaking her lightly. “Wake up, Sunny. Now.”
“Don’t wanna go to school. Sick.”
She’d feel even worse in the morning if she didn’t rehydrate. He was uncertain what to do if she wouldn’t listen to him, however.
What are you going to do, spank me?
He remembered that question all too clearly. He’d spanked his fair share of women, during sex. He enjoyed bondage and control in the bedroom.
But all of that was fully consensual. Sunny wasn’t herself right now. Would she be mad that he’d stripped her off to her underwear to get her in the shower? And then she’d taken hers off and fallen against him. He’d tried not to look, he really had. But she had the prettiest breasts he’d ever seen.
She was right, they weren’t big. But if she dared to even think about getting boobs like Yoga Barbie, he would. . .
What? What would you do?
Fucked if he knew right now.
Right, if she wouldn’t drink then he’d just have to make her. He grabbed hold of her, dragging her up. Her eyes shot open and she stared up at him with a scream, flinging backwards. She kept a tight hold of her stuffed monkey.
“Don’t hurt me!”
“I’m not going to hurt you. It’s Duke. I have some Gatorade for you.”
“Don’t like it.”
Her eyes were drifting shut once more.
“I don’t care if you don’t like it. You’re damn well going to drink it.” He pressed the bottle to her mouth and she pulled away.
“Eww, yuck.”
“Stop being such a baby and drink it!”
She gaped at him, hugging that stupid toy tight as tears dripped down her face.
Fuck. What was he doing?
Acting like an ass, that’s what you’re doing.
“Sunny—”
“You should leave.”
Tears tracked down her too-pale cheeks, making him feel like more of an asshole than ever.
“I can’t leave until you drink something.”
“Don’t wanna. You’re being mean.”
More tears. Fuck. He couldn’t take it. He felt something hard inside himself break a little. Fuck. Shit.
What the hell did he do now?
Christ. One thing he did know. He needed help.
4
“Duke, my man, what’s up?” Razor asked.
“Got a situation.”
“With what? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, kind of.” He placed a hand on the nape of his neck. Christ, he couldn’t believe he was doing this. But it was get some help or take her to the emergency room. And he’d rather not be tied up for hours, waiting at the hospital.
Duke sighed. “Look, I know you’re into this Daddy Dom stuff.”
“You want to ask me about that?”
He could understand Razor’s confusion. He didn’t think this was a conversation he’d ever have with the other man either.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got a situation.”
“What sort of situation?”
“The sort where I need the advice of someone who is used to dealing with Littles,” Duke said abruptly. He blew out a breath. “Look man, I’ve got someone here I’m fairly certain is a Little. I found her in her car, overhe
ated and dehydrated and unless I can get some liquids into her, I’m going to be taking her to the emergency room.”
“She won’t drink? Is she responding to you?” Razor asked, finally getting the urgency of the situation. “What makes you think she’s a Little?”
He looked through the bedroom door to check on her. She was lying on her side once more, but this time she wasn’t asleep. She was just staring at the wall, looking so forlorn and lost he couldn’t stand it.
Fuck, this is why he didn’t do relationships. He didn’t know how to look after someone’s emotional health. He could barely deal with their physical health.
“She’s given me a few hints,” he said dryly, moving away so she couldn’t hear him. Did calling him her dream Daddy count? “I managed to get her cooled down in the shower but now she’s curled up in her bed, and she’s refusing to drink.”
“Look, obviously not all Littles are the same. It’s not a one-size fits all scenario. Try speaking nicely to her. Coaxing her into drinking and praising her when she does.”
“What makes you think I didn’t do that already?” he snarled.
There was silence on the other end.
“Fine. I’ll try, the thing is. . .”
“What?”
“I kind of snapped at her and upset her. She, ah, she. . .”
“She what?” Razor asked.
“She fucking cried all right?”
More silence.
“I’m not used to women crying.”
“You aren’t? There’s a shocker,” Razor said dryly. “Way to go, making a sick Little cry.”
“Thanks, that’s just what I needed right now. If that’s all you’ve got to help me—”
“No, wait, listen, with Littles you have to sometimes be indulgent, treat them like the little princesses or princes they are. But you have to temper that with making certain they do as they’re told. Sure, they’re spoiled, but they need to know the boundary. The lines that can’t be crossed without punishment. One of those lines is putting themselves at risk. Obviously, not drinking when you’ve told her that she needs to is a risk to her health. Therefore, it’s a line.”
“But it’s not like we have any rules,” he argued. “She’s not mine. We don’t have any sort of relationship.”
“Right, you’re just doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”
“Fucked if I know why I’m doing this. But it’s either get this into her or call an ambulance.”
“All right, so you might not have set rules for her, but you’re all she’s got right now and you’re only looking out for her. Even if she wasn’t a Little, you’d be trying to do this for her health, right?”
“Yeah, so what are you saying?”
“Littles might complain about rules, but they’re there to make them safe. To make them feel secure. If you can’t convince her to drink, you may have to be stern.”
“I tried. She cried.”
“Were you mean?”
“I don’t fucking know!”
“You were probably mean,” he muttered. “Strict doesn’t require you to get all cold or yelling or swearing.”
“I didn’t fucking yell.” But the other two. . .yeah, maybe.
“Give her a consequence if she doesn’t do the behavior you require of her. Drink the Gatorade or I’m going to. . .”
“What?”
“Well, I don’t know, that’s up to you. What are you comfortable with?”
“She asked me if I was going to spank her earlier,” he muttered.
“She did?” Razor sounded amused.
“Stop fucking laughing at me, you bastard.”
“Sorry. . .sorry, it’s just imagining you, the great, stoic, calm Duke Canton dealing with a Little with an attitude, yeah, it’s fucking funny. You’re never out of your depth yet here is this girl practically making you sweat buckets over getting her to drink.”
“She doesn’t have an attitude.”
Probably not the thing he should have focused on right then. He shook his head. He’d quickly gotten dressed when he’d gone next door so at least he was no longer standing around in his boxers. Boxers that she had tried her best to pull off when they’d been in the shower.
She sure wasn’t shy when she thought she was dreaming. He had to grin at that. She was going to be mortified if she remembered that part.
“Right,” Razor said almost gently. “Sorry. She’s sick and if you don’t know each other well, then likely she’s feeling vulnerable. You seen her Little side before?”
“No.”
“Okay, then maybe her defenses are down. Best you get her to let you help her now before they come back up.”
“So when you say I should get strict, I threaten to spank her?” Discomfort filled him. Not over spanking someone. But they didn’t have a relationship. It felt wrong.
“Will you do it?”
“What?”
“Will you follow through?”
He sighed. “Fuck, no.”
“Then I wouldn’t threaten her with that. Follow through is important.”
Holy shit. Was he really having this conversation?
“Are you sure I need to know all this? This is a one-time thing, never to be repeated. I just want to know how to get her to do what I want her to do without making her cry.”
“Christ, man, if I knew that don’t you think I’d be rich,” Razor snapped back. “Just be firm. But don’t be mean.”
“Shall I threaten to take something away from her? Like the stuffed monkey she’s holding onto for dear life?”
“Jesus, no!” he snapped. “For fuck’s sake, man, don’t mess with the stuffies. Bitch will cut you over that.”
“Don’t call her a bitch,” he snapped.
“Hey, a generalized statement. Nothing against your girl. I mean not-your-girl.”
He sighed. “I’ll work something out. Thanks. I think.”
“You’re welcome, any more advice—”
He ended the call. Yeah, he didn’t think he’d bother to go to Razor for any more advice. Right, what to use to get her to co-operate? Maybe he’d lucked out and adult Sunny was back. He peeked in on her. Still hugging that monkey. And her thumb was in her mouth.
He walked into the room and sat facing her on the bed. “Baby girl, it’s time to drink now.”
“No,” she mumbled around her thumb.
How could someone who seemed so sweet and timid the rest of the time become so obstinate when they were sick?
“You’re going to drink this whole bottle or there’s going to be consequences,” he warned.
She froze. “Consequences?”
“Uh huh.”
She moved one hand behind her to cover her bottom. He wondered if her husband had been her Daddy. Duke guessed that if he had been, he’d fallen flat in that department like in every other one. He had to smile as he recalled her talking about his tadpole dick.
Although he wasn’t sure he appreciated his cock being likened to a cold, slippery eel. He shook off that thought.
“You can’t spank me!”
He raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“I’s sick.”
“You won’t be sick all the time, though, will you?”
“That’s not fair.”
He nearly sighed with relief as rather than get teary, she was glaring up at him.
“I don’t like that stuff.” She pointed to the bottle he held.
He shrugged. “I don’t much care since it’s going to make you feel better.”
“I don’ts need it since I feels fine,” she tried to convince him.
“Is that so? Did I mention that naughty little girls say goodbye to their fun activities?”
“Like what?” she asked suspiciously.
“Like watching cartoons and coloring.” It was a bit of a guess, but he’d spotted some coloring books tucked under a cushion in the living room. They looked like they had cartoon characters on the front.
She gasped; the n
oise comically loud.
“Now, are you going to drink the Gatorade like a good girl or do I need to go find a baby bottle to feed it to you?” Not that he fucking had one of those.
“I am not a baby.” She snatched the Gatorade out of his hand and started to drink.
He let out a deep sigh. Thank fuck. He really had thought they were headed to the Emergency room. He ran his hand over his face.
“You look tired.”
He glanced back at her. He glanced from the bottle to her mouth. Then raised an eyebrow pointedly. “Drink or do you need my help?”
She sighed but lifted it to her mouth once more.
“I’m fine. Just a few long days at work.” He stood and stretched. Now that she was drinking, he felt better about leaving her.
Better, but still not great. Especially when she was in Little mode. How often did she go into Little mode? Did she normally have someone look after her?
“Was Greg, ah, your Daddy?”
“What?” She pulled the drink away. “No. That would be silly.”
“Silly, how?”
“‘Cause Greg never thought about anyone but himself.”
Yeah, that sounded about right from what she’d told him about the man.
“I’m sleepy now.” The bottle was only half-empty. But her eyelids were drooping, her words slurring. However, she still needed more.
He sat next to her on the bed. She scooted over and he pulled her against him, his arm over her shoulder, her head resting on his chest. He grabbed the bottle, holding it to her lips. He tried to ignore how good she felt in his arms. How nice it was to look after someone like this.
She reached for the bottle but he pulled it back. “Uh-uh, conserve your energy, baby girl. Just concentrate on drinking. Good girl.”
He had to admit Razor did know what he was talking about. As soon as she’d figured out that he was serious and willing to back up any misbehavior with punishment, she’d become much more relaxed.
Secure. She felt more secure.
He just held her gently as she drank more. When the bottle was three-quarters gone and she’d stopped sucking, he pulled it away, feeling an odd sort of satisfaction.
He settled her into bed and slipped his arm away, standing.
She stirred. “Duke?”
Motorcycle Daddy (MC Daddies Book 1) Page 4