Page 64 of Johnny Gun

“See? Easy peasy. Let’s get you dressed. Then you can wait for me in the kitchen.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“I have to strip the bed.”

To Isolde, the explanation would’ve been normal if Sydney or Opal had said it. Not this imposing man. She couldn’t imagine a single guy in the MC, including her father, tackling household chores. Nope. They wouldn’t know what to do if you gave them a broom and a dustpan. She had a lot to learn about Daddies. They were a unique species unto themselves.

Johnny looked through her few pieces of clothing. She’d obeyed his instructions and hadn’t packed much.

“This is perfect,” he said, holding up white panties and a set of matching shorts with a short-sleeved top. The material had a cute design of berries with flowers, and she wore it often in the privacy of her bedroom.

Never outside.

He sat on the bed and waved at her. “Come to me.”

The age regression came unbidden. Isolde turned eight years old in that moment. Her mind returned to pre-puberty years, and she saw herself as she once was: skinny, shorter, and sexuallyundeveloped, waiting for her new Daddy to help her dress. And he did. Whether he sensed her regression or not, she couldn’t tell. Without flinching, he kept up with her as he helped her with the panties, helped her step into her shorts, then slipped down her top.

“There,” he said. “You’re all dressed and pretty. Now be a good girl, go to the kitchen, and wait for Daddy. Stay away from the stove and the fridge. You don’t have permission to do anything on your own. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“Good. I’ll make us something to eat. You must be hungry.” Grasping her shoulders, he turned her around, then lightly tapped her butt. “Go. I’ll bring Mr. Bubbles.”

The soft squeal of happiness that escaped her lips was the most natural thing in the world. She didn’t find it weird or think twice about it as she shuffled side to side to the kitchen. He made everything natural for her. Daddy gave her the freedom to give wings to all the carefully hidden parts of herself. The Little no one, not even Sydney, had sensed or discovered because Isolde had been so careful. She could weep with happiness.

She got to the kitchen and, remembering her Daddy’s instructions, pulled out a chair and sat, prepared to wait like the good little girl she was and who he loved.

Johnny’s throat tightened as he watched Isolde playfully shuffle to the kitchen. He flopped onto the edge of the bed, his thoughts swirling. From the moment Blade asked for volunteers to protect the Dalton chapter, events had moved at breakneck speed, and Johnny had barely had a moment to take in and analyze every stunning development.

Setting aside the concern about the lingering danger to Isoldeand himself, their strange situation, and all the work waiting for him to convince Deacon he was the right man for his daughter, Johnny gave himself a few seconds to rejoice. The sheets could wait.

For sure, he was the luckiest man alive. Not only did Isolde return his emotions in equal measure, but the most significant sign of her trust in him was her regression of moments ago. In most situations, Littles were skittish. A natural sense of self-protection suppressed the most beautiful aspect of their personality. She’d entered her eight- or nine-year-old age without hesitation. He supposed this was her preferred Little age and would keep it in mind for the future. Whenever she needed to enter her age, he would encourage, protect, and cherish her regression. That was also his job, one he hadn’t discussed with her yet.

Making love to her had been magical, had moved him to the core of his being. The pleasure and satisfaction he’d experienced watching her come apart in his arms surpassed anything he’d ever known. His climax had been unique and mind-blowing. Was this a sign of things to come between them?

Lord above, he hoped so. He was tired of stumbling around an aimless existence. He’d found the love of his life and his purpose and was prepared to fight to the end to hold on to both. Coming to this safehouse had been a blessing for them both, and he was going to take advantage of every private minute he could have with Isolde.

Fuck Deacon. Isolde was his. Period.

His phone buzzed on the night table. Picking it up, he opened Barron’s message and chuckled.Speak of the devil.

Deacon Lennox and the Dalton crew are here.

Better you than me.

Fuck you. LOL I’ll keep you informed. All’s well?

J: Sure is.

Cool. TTYL

Johnny put his phone down and turned his mind to more mundane matters. He stripped the bed sheets into a ball and strode to the laundry.

“I’ll be there in a second, baby,” he called to Isolde.

“Yes, Daddy,” she answered.

Life just didn’t get any better than this.

---