Page 74 of Giddy Up, Daddy

“Um, can I do it with my pants on?” she asked.

“Do you really want to put pants on?” he countered.

Hmm.

With the way her bottom was throbbing?

Probably not.

She shook her head.

Stafford brushed her hair back off her face. It had probably gone completely wild.

“Will you tell me about your Little?”

Blakely squirmed. What did he want her to say?

“What age do you like to, uh, regress to? A baby? Do you like wearing diapers and having a pacifier? A toddler? Diapers during naps? Playing with dolls? Or older again? Around four or five? Six or eight? What does your Little like to do? What would she like from me?”

“I . . . well . . . gosh, no one has ever asked me any of that before. I’ve only had one boyfriend, and that was before I figured out that I was a Little. And I’ve only played at a club a few times, as I couldn’t really afford club fees.”

“All right. But you can tell me. I want to be the best Daddy I can for you.”

“You’re already amazing,” she told him.

“I don’t think I’ve been any sort of Daddy to you.”

“It’s in everything you do for me. How you make sure that I go to bed at a decent time. How you leave my favorite mug by the coffee pot in the morning. I know you like to sleep with hardly any blankets, but you pile them over me at night because you know I get cold. And every morning when I wake up, my slippers are sitting by the bed. When I forget to put my phone on charge at night, you always plug it in. It’s those things that show you care.”

“But I haven’t made you feel like you could let your Little side fully out.”

“Maybe that’s about me being nervous. Shy.” She clenched her hands together.

“You don’t have to worry about Grandpa Jack walking in on us. If he needed me, he’d yell out or knock. Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“I was also thinking that maybe your Little would like a space of her own.”

“Oh, I don’t need that.” Blakely shook her head. That sounded like too much work.

He raised his eyebrows. “Really? Because there are plenty of unused rooms. Maybe she’d like a space to play and nap and have time out from the world.”

Actually.

That sounded amazing.

“You want that, don’t you? It’s all right to tell me what you want, Blakely. It doesn’t make you selfish. I’m not going to get upset with you or think you’re being demanding. All right?”

Blakely hadn’t really had that before. She’d always felt like a burden her grandfather had to take on. She’d tried to be good and quiet and not annoy him.

Then when he’d died, she’d felt even more like an unwanted nuisance, even though none of her foster families had actually made her feel that way. After her first foster family left, though, she’d shut down. Kept people out.

And she’d tried to never ask for anything.

“It might take me a while to believe in that,” she confessed. “And it’s not because I think you’re lying or I don’t trust you.”

“I understand. Some things take time.”

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