Page 44 of Daddy's Laws

“Yes.” Moving her lips into a practiced pout, she looked up at him. “You promised, Daddy.”

Hunger flared in his eyes at the use of his title, just as she’d known it would, and just as it had every time she’d used it over the past few hours. The man was almost painfully predictable.

“I did promise.” His voice was thick, forcing him to clear his throat. “All right, princess. Let’s get you some ice cream.”

“Two scoops,” she requested happily, falling in step with him as they made their way back down the Boardwalk. “With hot fudge, and peanut butter, and sprinkles, and whipped cream.”

“One scoop with two toppings.”

Her pout was less practiced and more instinctive this time. “But that’s not what I want.”

“You don’t need all that sugar at once.”

It should have pissed her off, the way he simply handed down his edict without even pretending to think it over. She was a grown woman, for fuck’s sake. She was perfectly capable of making her own dietary decisions.

But warmth pooled in her belly despite her brain ticking off all the reasons why she should tell him to go fuck himself. The man had a way of putting her more in touch with her long-lost Little side than she’d ever imagined possible. And he did it without any of the trappings some of her previous play partners had been so focused on. Bryant didn’t need to force her to wear a diaper or use a pacifier to make her feel like a naughty little girl. All he had to do was look at her with that one eyebrow slightly cocked or speak to her in that ‘Daddy knows best’ voice, and she was right there, teetering between Big and Little. And she loved every second of it.

Still, a good brat never gave up that easily.

The line for the ice cream shop snaked around the little pillars inside the store, with a dozen more people waiting patiently outside. They took their place at the end of the line and she looped her arms around his waist, standing on her tiptoes so she could rest her chin on his shoulder.

“Can I please have extra toppings, Daddy?” It was easier to call him Daddy when she was trying to get something she wanted. It felt more like her choice and less like something he’d demanded of her.

“Two toppings, princess. Have you decided what you want?”

“Yes. I want hot fudge, and peanut butter, and sprinkles, and Reese’s pieces, and whipped cream.”

“You’re supposed to be taking away toppings, not adding more on, Shannon.”

The sting of his disapproval would have hurt more if she hadn’t heard the amusement under it. God help her, the man seemed to genuinely enjoy it when she was a brat.

“But that’s what I want.” The whine in her voice was the vocal equivalent of stomping her foot at this point.

And apparently, she’d pushed the envelope a little too far. When he turned his head, the steel in his eyes had butterflies dancing wildly in her tummy. “And I want you to listen to Daddy and stop whining. Or we can forget about ice cream and you can go to bed early with a very sore bottom.”

Need, hot and achy, pulsed between her thighs. If they’d been alone, she very well might have dropped to her knees and sucked him off then and there.

Even with the threat, she couldn’t resist pushing a little further. “But—”

Before she could finish her argument, he unwrapped her arms from around his waist and grabbed her hand. Stepping out of line, he looked left then right. Seemingly finding what he wanted, he started walking, pulling her along behind him.

“Bryant? Where are we going?” If he’d planned on taking her home, the car was in the opposite direction.

He didn’t respond, but she got her answer anyway when he turned into the clearly marked restroom area. Just her luck, the door to the family bathroom was sitting slightly ajar and not a single soul was waiting in line. Bryant made a beeline for the empty bathroom, locking the door behind them.

Standing in front of the door, he crossed his arms and pinned her with a pointed look, one eyebrow raised in a way that sent the butterflies dancing all over again. “Do you want ice cream?”

“What?”

“Do you still want ice cream, Shannon?”

What the hell was he going on about? Of course, she wanted ice cream. “Umm, yes.”

“All right. Then you are going to stop arguing with me and you are going to pick one flavor of ice cream, two toppings, and you are not going to whine or pout about it. Do we have an understanding?”

He’d hauled her into a family bathroom just to lecture her? Trying to ignore the stab of disappointment, she nodded. “Yeah.”

“Say, ‘Yes, Daddy’.”

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