Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
“Do you have a Daddy, sweetie?”
I shake my head.
“You live here all alone being Little with no one to nurture you?”
I nod.
“That sounds kind of lonely. Have you ever had a Daddy Dom?”
Another head shake.
“How old are you, sweet girl?”
Darn. He’s finally asking me a question that requires words to respond. I don’t want to be rude, but it’s hard to talk to him. “Twenty-five,” I whisper.
“You must think I’m way too old for you then. Darn.”
I jerk my head up before I can stop myself. “I do not.”
He’s sitting on his butt, his legs crisscrossed in front of him. He’s so close his knees are almost touching my shins. Now that I’ve lifted my head, he strokes my cheek and smiles. “Ah, so you don’t mind that an old guy like me is in your apartment?”
“You’re not old,” I argue.
“I’m forty.”
I shrug. “That’s not old.”
He blows out an exaggerated breath. “Oh, thank goodness. Do you think maybe you could come out of the closet and talk to me? We could stay in here if you want, but I thought maybe I could use that coupon you shoved under my door and order us a pizza.”
My eyes go wide. “I didn’t put it under your door on purpose.”
“You didn’t?” His eyes are twinkling. He’s teasing me. It’s helping my heart rate come down. I might live through this. “Are you sure? Maybe you dropped all your mail on purpose and then kicked the pizza coupon into my apartment as a way to get me to open my door so you could flirt with me.”
My face heats. “I did not.” A part of me knows he’s joking, but it’s hard to respond to him any other way. I shake my head. “I don’t flirt,” I mutter.
He holds out a hand. “How about if you come out here because I do flirt. I’d like to flirt with you. Would that upset you?”
Chapter Two
My jaw drops. I blink several times before I shake my head. I can’t believe this is happening. The sexy man from across the hall is flirting with me. He said so.
“Do you like pizza, sweet girl?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.
“What do you like on it?”
I lick my lips. “Pepperoni.”
“No mushrooms, jalapeños, or anchovies?”
I scrunch up my nose. “Gross.”
“Okay, pepperoni it is. Do you usually eat dinner in your closet?” he teases.
“No, Sir.” I can’t believe I’m calling him Sir. I’ve done so twice. It sort of just slid into the conversation. If he’s going to call me Little then I have to call him Sir, right?
Eli lowers his extended hand and leans to one side. A moment later, he’s holding his phone in his hand. He taps the screen a bunch of times while I watch him. What’s he doing?
Finally he lowers the phone. “There. Pizza ordered. Want me to find some plates and bring you a sippy cup into the closet?”
I stare at him. He’s kind of serious. I think he really would do that if I wanted him to. I shake my head.
He reaches out his hand again. “Come, Little one.”
I can’t ignore his order. After all, he is a Daddy Dom. We’ve established that. And I’m not naughty enough to be disobedient. So I finally set my hand in his.
“Good girl.” He beams before uncurling his legs and crawling backward to get out of the cramped space. He keeps my hand in his the entire time.
I scoot forward on my butt until I’m free of the closet. By then, Eli pushes to his feet and gives my hand a tug, helping me up.
My heart is racing. I’ve never been so nervous in my life. This is surreal. I can’t believe it’s happening. I let Eli guide me out of the bedroom, wincing at everything we pass. My bed is covered with stuffies. My bedding is pink with ruffles all around it. My princess nightgown is lying on my pillow where I dropped it this morning.
I cringe as I spot my dolls and all their clothes in the corner of the room. As soon as we step into my living room, I groan. Sheesh. I didn’t clean up today.
Eli guides me to my sofa and turns to grab my hips. He lifts me off my feet and sets me on the cushions before sitting right in front of me on my coffee table. His legs straddle mine, and he leans in close to me, setting his elbows on his knees. “Take a breath, Grace.”
I’m stiff. I lean back and look around. My kitchen table has coloring books and crayons all over it. There are dishes on my counter, including plastic things suitable for a toddler, among those items are several sippy cups.
In the corner of my couch is a wadded up pink princess blankie and two of my stuffies. None of that affects me as much as the pacifier on the end table. Shit.