Oops. I tried to look as contrite as possible, but I was also kinda excited by this line of questioning. “I think maybe I almost called you Daddy.”
“And what stopped you?” he whispered.
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I just threw up my hands and shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to. Do I just get to decide that? How does this work? At the club, the Daddies expect us to call them that. And Daddy Troy and Daddy Carter are…well, that’s who they are. All the Little Lovelies call them that. But you’re Doctor Dayton. So…what should I call you?”
“Depends on what you want from me, Cassie.” He stared at me for so long I started to squirm. “If you want to be my Little girl, you’ll call me Daddy or sir. If you want to be my friend, and my patient, you may call me Doctor Dayton or just Dayton.” He smirked as his features relaxed a bit. “Some of my buddies in high school even called me DJ when I went through an EDM phase, if that’s more your style.”
I shook my head, amused but focused on the first part of what he’d said. “You want to be my Daddy and for me to be your Little girl? Like, for scenes or playdates or…all the time?”
His eyes had an unwavering grip on me. “I’ve done scenes and playdates for a long time, Cassie. I’m willing to start there, but ultimately, I’m looking for something full-time. Long term.”
“Oh.” I dropped against the back of the couch and sighed. “Yeah, me too.”
“In that case.” He put his hand on my knee. “Let’s start with ice cream and see where things go.”
“Yes, please!” I jumped up and ran toward the door, then realized that was a bad idea when my thighs rubbed, and the tender skin screamed at me. “Oh, ouch. Chub rub. BRB, Daddy.” Then I detoured back to my room and slipped on some shorts that covered my proliferation or whatever Daddy called it.
Friction made for owie skin.
Chapter 8
Dayton
“I’m ready!” Cassie skipped out of her bedroom and stopped just short of falling into my arms. “Where to?”
I held out my right hand and reached for her left one. “The Frozen Cow is open. We can walk there, if you’d like.”
“Oohh, my favorite.” She clasped my hand instead of intertwining our fingers. It was sweet. “I like their waffle cones but you have to get three scoops to fill it all up.”
“Three scoops?” I blew out a dramatic breath. “Is that a good choice?”
“I think it is.” She leaned against my arm. “Do you think it is?”
“Depends on what you ate for dinner.” I couldn’t resist leaning down and smelling her hair as we walked to the sidewalk.
“Din-ner?” She said it slowly as if it were a foreign word to her. “Um, I had a chicken wrap earlier. It was very healthy.”
Something about that answer sounded…off. “How much earlier?”
“A lot earlier.” She was now focused on the path ahead, not looking at me at all.
I came over after eight and assumed she’d already eaten. Maybe I was wrong. “Cassie, did you eat dinner tonight?”
“Well, it was basically an early dinner.” She tugged at the front of her dress, fidgeting.
Okay. She liked to be evasive. Good to know. “Cassie, what time was your last meal?”
“Technically, it was at noon, but in other countries, they called that dinner. It’s true. You can ask my friend Willa. She knows stuff like that.”
I huffed out an annoyed sigh. “So you didn’t eat dinner at all?”
“Well, not in the American sense of the word. But I’m super full from that wrap and only have room for dessert now.” She patted her tummy and looked up at me.
That’s not gonna fly with me, sweetheart. “How do you feel about Chinese food?”
“I love it. Do you love it too?”
“I do. The noodle house up the street is pretty good. How about we go grab dinner, and if we still have room for ice cream after, we can get it. And if not, I'll take you for a treat tomorrow.”
