“So, what would my rules be? Are you going to tell me what I can wear and where I can go?”
“Would that feel like a fence that’s in the right place to you?”
She shook her head. “No!”
“What if your rule was to text Daddy where you are and when you’re leaving to go somewhere else? That way, you have room to roam, but if something happens, I know where to start looking for you so I can help.”
She paused to consider his explanation, then said, “I guess that one’s not so bad. But what about clothes?”
“Well, aside from wanting you to wear them when we're not alone, my rule would be to dress according to the weather. So, no bikinis in a snowstorm. Is that a good wall?”
She grinned. “I guess.” Something dark flickered in her eyes, and her smile faded. “I don’t go out in snowstorms. Ever.”
With challenge in her voice, she asked, “Do I have to have a rule about keeping my phone charged and with me?”
“Is that wall too close or too tall?”
“What if I say yes?”
“Well, if your phone is dead or you don’t have it with you, would it be easy to text Daddy where you are and where you’re going next?”
Catching her lip between her teeth, she shook her head. “Icould borrow one if I was with other people, but I’d be in trouble if I was alone. So, I guess that one’s okay, too.”
“That’s my good girl. Now, I have Daddy rules, too.”
She stared at him with wide eyes, making her look owlishly adorable. “There are Daddy rules…like rules for Daddies?”
“Of course there. Daddies need walls, too. My rules are simple. Always keep Foxy safe. Always give Foxy respect. And always, always be there when Foxy needs me.”
The frightened hope in her eyes almost broke his heart. “I like those rules. Mine are to always follow Daddy's rules, to always treat Daddy with respect, and to always be there when Daddy needs me, too.”
He couldn’t stop himself. “That’s my brave girl.” And then he kissed her.
The kiss started soft and gentle. It was meant to be a kiss that reassured her.
But then she parted her lips, and the kiss wasn’t soft anymore. She tasted like peppermint and salt and the kind of trust that didn’t come cheap. He cupped the back of her head, angled her just right, and took her mouth like he owned it. Because he did, and they both knew it.
She whimpered, her fingernails gently scraping in his cropped hair. Her Christmas jammies were in the way. Everything in him wanted to rip the buttons open and get his hands on her skin. Instead, he contented himself with running his thumb over the nipple pressed against the fabric of her top.
Her back arched. She gasped against his lips. “Trace.”
“Daddy,” he corrected, nipping her bottom lip. “Say it.”
“Daddy.” It came out broken, perfect.
He kissed her until the only sound was their breathing and the soft rustle of her pants as she rocked her sex against the bulge behind his zipper.
When Trace finally pulled back, her eyes were glazed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. Beautiful.
He wanted nothing more than to take her to the rug and do wicked things to her she would love. He needed to hear her cries of pleasure when she came on his tongue. But he had a plan, and that wasn’t part of it. Not yet.
They weren’t finished talking. Besides, he had a gift for her. Straightening her top, he resettled her on his lap. He needed to know everything so he could fix it. He liked seeing her face when they talked. Her expressions told him things her words couldn’t.
“I have something for you, little fox.”
“What is it, Daddy
“This.” After taking it from the end table drawer, he held out the thumb-sized river rock he’d had for months, waiting for the right moment to give it to her. It was warm from his hand. The heart-shaped quartz rock was storm-cloud gray with a single white vein through the middle, zigzagging like lightning. One side wore the Wild River Ranch brand.
