Protector Daddy

by Roberts, Laylah

  Although that was probably a fruitless dream considering her ass had been nestled against it.

  Get yourself under control, man.

  “Umm . . .I . . . I’m sorry for losing it like that . . . I . . .” She sniffled, looking around the room. “Can you hand me my handbag? I’ve got some tissues in there.”

  Of course she did. That thing was a Tardis, considering how much stuff she managed to get in it. He handed her bag to her.

  “Be back.” He stood and walked out into the bathroom, hoping that would give him some time to calm down.

  When he returned, she’d blown her nose and wiped her face. He sat next to her and gently grabbing hold of her chin, he cleaned her face with a warm washcloth. She’d taken the opportunity to secure one of the towels more firmly around herself. But he’d also grabbed the clothing she’d left on the bathroom counter, figuring she’d want to get out of that wet towel.

  He held it up, blinking in surprise as he realized it was a onesie. A dinosaur onesie.

  “Oh that’s . . . it’s . . . I . . .”

  “Cute.”

  “C-cute? Really?” She stared up at him.

  He nodded. “Need help?”

  She was still staring at him in shock.

  “Millie? You okay?”

  She seemed kind of spacey and out of it. And earlier when he’d been calling to her through the bathroom door there had been long moments when she wouldn’t answer him. Just tiredness? Or something more? And he wasn’t sure he bought the whole mouse excuse for why she’d screamed.

  “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “What? Oh, no.” She shook her head.

  He eyed her doubtfully.

  She gave him a wry smile. “Believe it or not, but I fall over a lot.”

  “I believe it.” He didn’t like it though. Maybe the bubble wrap was the way to go. Perhaps knee pads, shin pads and a helmet?

  She sighed sadly. “Yeah, I’m just one big klutz.”

  He frowned at her. “Not a klutz.”

  “No? What do you call it then? Seems like I can’t go five minutes without tripping over my own feet.”

  Cute. He called it cute. But he couldn’t tell her that.

  “You need sleep.”

  She nodded tiredly and yawned. “Yeah.”

  “Get this on. I’ll be back.”

  After giving him a surprised look, she reached for the onesie, her cheeks still blushing. Her fingers brushed against his, sending warmth through his body. He snatched his hand back, unprepared for the sensation.

  Millie flinched at his reaction. Inwardly, he cursed himself.

  “S-sorry,” she whispered. “I’m a terrible house guest. I’ve already broken your bathroom door and made you carry me half-naked while sobbing on your chest. I promise I don’t usually behave like this. I can’t even remember the last time I cried. How embarrassing. I’ll be much more normal tomorrow.”

  He frowned at that. Normal? Who said she had to be normal? Or who got to say what normal was? He didn’t like the way she’d hunched her shoulders, as though trying to appear smaller. Invisible.

  “I broke the door, not you.”

  “Only because you were worried about me,” she whispered.

  A small tinge of red hit her cheeks, making him wonder again why she had screamed that first time. But he decided not to push. She was fragile right now. She needed comfort, not for him to push and prod at her until she bled.

  “You’re fine,” he said. As far as reassurances went, it was pretty crap. But she gave him a small smile.

  “You’re a good man, Spike . . .” She snorted. “I not only don’t know your last name, but I don’t know your actual first name either.”

  “Lochlin. Quillon Lochlin.”

  He didn’t know why he told her that. So few people knew his real name. And he liked it that way.

  “Quillon. I like it.”

  “I don’t use it.”

  She nodded. “I understand. My lips are sealed.”

  Hmm. He’d rather they were wrapped around his cock.

  Fuck. What was wrong with him?

  “Get dressed. Back soon.”

  He strode out of the room and across to the bathroom, deciding that tidying it up might help him bring himself under control. He pulled the plug out of the bath and got a towel to mop up the excess water on the floor.

  He spotted the dinosaur shaped bottle on the floor. Opening the lid, he took a sniff.

  Bubblegum.

  It was children’s bubble bath and that just added to the overall picture he was building of her.

  He wished he knew what was going on in her head. Why she’d acted so weird in the bathroom. Why she’d lost it, sobbing in his arms.

  As the bath emptied, something caught his eye.

  Was that?

  Huh . . . well, that explained some of her behavior.

  Amused, Spike reached in and grabbed the small vibe that had a face and scales down the back. He cleaned it off and placed it in her toilet bag.

  When he walked into the bedroom, he found her pulling down the blankets, yawning loudly. She was dressed in a dinosaur onesie that went over her feet and, he noted as she bent over, also had a drop seat.

  That made it so much easier to get to her bottom.

  Especially good for naughty little girls who used toys to get themselves off in the bath then claimed to have seen a mouse.

  Hmm . . . if she was his . . .

  But she’s not. Because if she was, she’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble for getting herself off without permission. She also wouldn’t be having a bath by herself. Little girls didn’t bathe themselves. That was far too dangerous. They could slip and fall. They could hurt themselves.

  Much like she had.

  “Hop in,” he commanded.

  She let out a cry, turning, her feet nearly slipping out from under her. He grabbed her, steadying her.

  “Oh, you scared me. You need to learn to make some noise.”

  “Why? So you could get away with mischief without getting caught?”

  “Well, yes, hey! I wasn’t getting up to any mischief.” She pouted but climbed into bed, he grabbed the covers, tucking them around her.

  Her eyelids were already drooping. Poor baby. She’d had an eventful night. Sitting on the side of the bed, he resisted the urge to brush back her hair, to offer to braid it for her.

  She yawned. There was something so real about her. Yet at the same time, there were secrets swirling in her eyes. There was a reason she acted so blasé about her own safety. He didn’t like that. Not one bit.

  What was he thinking, bringing her here?

  Just how the fuck was he going to resist her?

  14

  She had to pee so badly.

  She’d woken up with a dry mouth, her hair sticking to her cheek where she’d obviously been drooling in her sleep. Something she did when she was really tired.

  Gross.

  With eyes still half-open, she stumbled out of bed and shuffled her way towards the door. She hadn’t even fully registered where she was when she opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

  Yawning, she tried to orientate herself. Where was the bathroom?

  Stretching, she walked towards the door opposite her.

  “Good morning.”

  She squealed, pressing her legs together as she nearly wet herself in shock. Blinking, she stared down the hallway to where a huge, bald man stood staring at her.

  Spike.

  She was at Spike’s house.

  She was standing in front of Spike, in his house, wearing her dinosaur onesie.

  With another squeal, she dove back into her bedroom, looking around frantically before pulling open the closest door and jumping inside.

  Heart thundering, she pulled her legs up to her chest and tried to ignore her complaining bladder. What was she thinking? Why didn’t she get dressed first? Or make sure the hallway was clear?

  Idiot. Idiot.

  �
��Millie?”

  She groaned and buried her face in her knees.

  “Millie? You okay?”

  “Millie no longer exists,” she called back.

  “Then who am I talking to?”

  That couldn’t be a thread of amusement in his voice. No way. Because this was so not funny.

  “Agnes,” she said. Agnes? Really? That’s the best she could come up with?

  “Agnes, huh? Well, Aggie, why are you in the closet?”

  “I like closets. They help me think. They’re quiet and dark and cool.”

  “You like the dark?”

  She hated the dark. She was starting to wonder why she’d hidden in here. It was getting a bit creepy and claustrophobic and . . . okay, she was starting to panic.

  Stop being an idiot, Millie.

  “Come out of the closet, baby doll.” The voice he used was almost . . . tender. It did weird things to her insides. Made her shiver in pleasure.

  Made her want things she knew she couldn’t have.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Your voice is shaking.”

  “It’s always like this before I have a coffee.” Liar. Liar.

  There was a long beat of silence.

  “You hiding from me?”

  Well, duh.

  She bit her lip on that reply. “No, like I said. I like closets. Closets are great. Not scary at all. Nope. Nuh-uh. They’re really useful. Good for lots of things. Like hanging up your clothes . . . why is the ground not opening me up and swallowing me whole?”

  “Millie—”

  “I’m not Millie.” Okay, at this point she just sounded ridiculous. “I’ve lost the plot.”

  “Come out now.” His voice was firmer this time.

  Shoot. It was hard not to obey him immediately.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m too embarrassed.”

  “Why?”

  Wasn’t it obvious?

  “Is this because I found your vibrator?”

  He found her vibrator? Oh no! She groaned. “This isn’t happening. It’s not happening. This is all some awful dream.”

  “Everyone masturbates. It’s normal.” His voice was gruff and tight. As though he wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he was pretending to be.

  Everyone masturbates? It’s normal? Really? This is where he was going?

  “Kill me. Kill me now.”

  “No need to be embarrassed.”

  Really? How did he expect her to react? Sure, it might be freaking normal. But it wasn’t normal to do it in the bathtub of a stranger’s house with a dinosaur vibrator! Or to have that stranger find her vibe in the bottom of the bathtub after she’d fallen asleep.

  In her dinosaur onesie.

  “Millie, come out now.”

  “No. Never! I’m going to die in here. I’m gonna apologize now for the smell of my decaying flesh and for the flies and buzzards.”

  “Buzzards hardly gonna get you in the closet.”

  That’s what he wanted to say? Really?

  Suddenly the door opened, flooding the closet with light. Before she could protest, she was picked up and pulled out into his arms. He carried her to the bed and sat with her on his lap.

  “Don’t! Leave me!” She tried to fight her way free.

  A slap landed on her ass as she froze, gaping up at him. He scowled down at her. Normally, that face might have intimidated the hell out of her. But she was beyond that right now.

  He’d found her dinosaur vibe.

  “Settle down,” he growled at her.

  “Please, please let this be a dream.”

  He sighed. “Already told you. Don’t be embarrassed.”

  “Just because you tell someone to do something or in this case, not do something, doesn’t mean they’re going to do it. Or, urgh, not to do it. Oh, you know what I mean!”

  He gave her a look of disbelief then he just shook his head. “Be a lot easier if you just did as I said.”

  “For you, maybe,” she muttered, keeping her gaze on her hands. “Can’t believe you found my vibrator. That you know what I was doing in the bath.” She hunched her shoulders. “And I was embarrassed over being caught in my onesie.”

  “Your onesie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s why you hid in the closet?”

  “Uh-huh. Turns out I should have just jumped out the window.”

  He sighed. “How can you face down a gang member without flinching and this makes you want to jump out a window?”

  She shrugged. “Guess I didn’t much care if he hurt me. I was just worried about Tawny. Getting hurt or dying doesn’t scare me.”

  He tightened his arms around her, surprising her. “Don’t like that.”

  It was what it was.

  “Can’t believe you spanked me.”

  “You think that was a spanking? That was a little tap to stop you getting hysterical.”

  “I wasn’t hysterical.”

  “Uh-huh, you talked about jumping out a window just because I saw your vibrator.”

  She groaned. “Please can we stop talking about it? Can we just pretend it never happened? In fact, let’s pretend we never met. I’ll get dressed, pack up and leave. Okay?”

  “Not okay.”

  He was intent on torturing her.

  “Meanie-bo-beanie.”

  Crap. Did she really just say that? The verbal diarrhea was bad enough but now she was resorting to an insult a three-year-old would use.

  “Look at me.”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Millie,” he said in a low warning voice.

  “I don’t wanna.” If she looked at him, then this definitely wasn’t a dream. She’d definitely made a complete fool of herself.

  And she wasn’t sure she could handle that.

  So she buried her face in his chest. He smelled nice. If she just hadn’t thoroughly humiliated herself and still really needed to pee, like, she was starting to worry about having an accident, she might have enjoyed being held on his lap, surrounded by his thick arms.

  But she really should move. She was likely squishing him by now.

  She started to wriggle, hissing at the pain in her bladder.

  “What’s the matter?” He tightened his hold on her.

  “Nothing. Let me up.”

  “Little girl, if you don’t stop lying to me, you’re gonna find out what that drop seat can be handy for.”

  She froze. He did not just say that. No way. That did not happen.

  Did it?

  “Listen. You are not running. You are not hiding. You’re gonna look at me. Right. Now.”

  Darn it.

  She raised her eyes, unable to keep her gaze from his any longer. His gaze was serious but not unkind as he took her in.

  “Good girl.”

  She shivered. Those words. The only thing that would make them sound better? Hearing the word ‘my’ in front of them.

  Oh, Millie. You’re not falling for him, are you? He’s rude and gruff and grouchy. And he threatened to spank you. All cons.

  He was also protective and could be caring and kind. All pros.

  He knows you got off in his bath tub. Huge con. Massive.

  Shoot. She should really offer to scrub his bathtub. Not that she had any diseases or anything. But it just seemed like the thing to do.

  “I’ll clean it.”

  “What?”

  She knew her cheeks were bright red. “The bathtub. I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it. Or buy you a new one.” Yeah, I’ll buy you a new one.”

  “Baby, not worried about the damn bathtub.” His hand cupped the side of her face.

  She swore for a moment that he was about to kiss her. But that was crazy. He wasn’t attracted to her. Irritated by her. Perplexed. Angered.

  But not interested in her.

  “Not worried about any of this. You shouldn’t be either. Got me?”

  She stared up into his eyes, saw how genuine he appeared to be
. Even though she knew she wouldn’t let go of her embarrassment so easily, she did feel a small burst of relief at how calm he was.

  “You good?” he asked.

  “No. But I think I’m about as good as I’ll get.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m really sorry you had to clean up after me last night.” There went her cheeks again. Hot enough to fry eggs on.

  “Hush,” he said, not unkindly.

  “Right. Hush. I can do that.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Like to see that.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. And tried to climb off his lap again.

  “Stay still.”

  “Aren’t I squashing you?”

  “Nope. Could hold you all day.”

  Oh, wouldn’t that be nice. Nope, not going there. Not right now anyway. “There’s just one problem.”

  “Just one,” he drawled.

  “Jeez, who knew you could be such a smart-ass.”

  He scowled.

  Okay, so probably the big, bad, biker dude didn’t want to be called a smart ass.

  “I really have to use the bathroom.”

  He nodded. Then helped her off his lap.

  “Meet me downstairs after. We have to talk.” He walked to the door then turned back. “No more hiding in closets.”

  Fine. She was sure she could find somewhere better to hide anyway.

  15

  Spike pulled out the ingredients for a smoothie, chopping up fruit and adding it to the blender. But his mind wasn’t really on what he was doing.

  It kept circling back to the woman upstairs.

  In her dinosaur onesie. Her face bright red from embarrassment. The way she’d hidden in the closet.

  Everything pointed to her being a Little. But what was he going to do with the information? Sit on it or address it?

  And what about this attraction he had to her? He could tell from the way she looked at him, reacted to him, that she felt it too.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered to himself.

  He hadn’t asked her the thing he’d really wanted to. Whether she’d been thinking about him when she’d gotten herself off last night.

  He blended the fruit with ice and poured the smoothie into two glasses before poaching some eggs and placing them on wheat bread with slices of avocado on the side.

  “Mr. Fluffy? Mr. Fluffy?”

  She raced into the kitchen, a towel wrapped around her, her hair dripping. She’d obviously been in the shower and had jumped out to come find her dog?