Page 28 of Her Nebraska Touchdown Daddy

“I do?” she asks, her scrunched-up face adorably confused.

“Yes. You took it from your bag and put it in your hoodie pocket before we left in case Taryn called?” This time I can’t hold back my laughter.

Windy pats at her pocket like she didn’t even realize she had one, then pulls her phone out triumphantly.

“I got it!” she crows.

“Yeah, you do. Now, be my good girl and open the door. You’re dead on your feet and you smell kinda funky.”

Windy sticks her tongue out at me but obeys, completely nonplussed by being told she stinks. Sweat’s unavoidable in our world, and I’m relieved she’s not self-conscious about it.

“Thass my shinnies, Daddy. They gotta get sprayed every time I wear them or they’re stinky-yucky.” The hint of baby talk catches me off guard in the best way.

Windy hasn’t had much chance to explore what the Daddy-Little dynamic will mean for her. Sure, she’s let me take care of her and is happy to have me make decisions. But I know there’s a sweet Little girl inside her waiting for the opportunity to peek out.

The fantasy of a lifetime being the safe space for her to retreat from adulthood fills me with quiet pride. In the past, the drive to dominate my partner has centered round ensuring their pleasure and my own. The feelings I have for Windy are so much deeper, more encompassing than anything I’ve felt before. There’s a need inside me to be everything to her. For her.

“Then let’s get those stinky, yucky clothes off and get you back to being my smell-good princess.” I hold her phone up for her to type in the code, hiding my grin at the way her tongue pokes out in concentration.

“Three, six, two, one,” she mumbles.

This time, the number sequence registers, and the curiosity has me blurting, “Is that our ages, babygirl?”

She nods her head and buries her face under my chin in embarrassment. I’m utterly charmed, for the thousandth time, by her sweet naivety. She’s so innocently adorable it’s impossible not to be captivated.

I navigate to the hotel’s app and open the door before tumbling Windy through it. The two of us make it to the utilitarian love seat in the tiny sitting area of the suite. I settle her onto it so I can kneel in front of her to take her knee-high socks and shinguards off, the latter being every bit as stinky as she predicted.

“Spray’s inna bag, Daddy.” Windy giggles at my scrunched nose and points to her duffel. I probably go overboard squirtingthe deodorizer on everything, but the way it makes her laugh makes up for it.

“Alright, can you shower without help or do you need me?” I wish I could clone myself so I could both help her bathe and get food sorted. But then I’d just wind up jealous of my own clone for helping to take care of her. I’ll have to settle for just one of me.

“I can do it. I guess,” she grumbles.

“Don’t be a grumpy girl. I’m going to order you dinner while you clean up. If you’re a good girl, I’ll make sure there’s some dessert, too.” One thing I’ve discovered really quickly is that the more tired or stressed out she is, the more she wants sweets.

“I’m not grumpy, Daddy! I’m a good girl!” She smirks. I let my eyes follow her as she teases me the whole walk into the small bathroom. She pulls off her jersey, then her sports bra, then her soccer shorts and the tiny athletic briefs underneath. Even through the sweat and turf grime, she’s a stunner.

I force my focus off her ass and onto filling her tummy. The hotel’s in the center of an area devoted to entertainment, visitors and conferences so there’s plenty of restaurants able to deliver dinner quickly. I’m sure I order too much food, but I remember how my stomach always felt like a bottomless pit after games, and I’ll be damned if I let Windy be hungry later.

The sound of water splashing in the shower distracts me from everything once I’ve submitted the order. I can hear the way the pattern of the water changes as she moves under the spray and my imagination goes wild envisioning her athletic build flexing and relaxing under the torrent of hot water.

Fuck it. The food won’t be here for nearly an hour and that’s plenty of time for me to make sure my little lush gets every sexy dip and hollow spotless.

CHAPTER 30

Windy

“Eat your sweet-potato hash.Don’t just push it around the plate. You’re not fooling anyone and you need the protein and carb mix that’s in them.” Deke’s watching every forkful of my dinner like I’m a prisoner on a hunger strike.

“I am eating them. But my stomach’s only so big and you already made me eat all the salmon, all the wilted spinach salad, and the fruit cup. I’m all fulled up.” There’s a whine to my voice I haven’t heard myself using since I was a preteen tattling on my older siblings.

Part of me is waiting for him to sneer at me for being a bratty baby and tell me to be a grown-up dinner companion for him. He drove all this way and watched a whole soccer game just to be with me. Instead of entertaining him and being grateful that he’s here, I’m a heartbeat away from having a meltdown and throwing a tantrum.

Now that I know Taryn’s not really hurt, that it’s part of the plan to fake Franklin out and catch him pushing drugs on athletes, the anxiety and stress is easing up. Maybe that’s whyI’m feeling all out of sorts and quarrelsome. That’s a pretty self-aware realization considering it’s not doing a damn bit to help me stop pushing for a fight.

“You’ll be filled up when you finish the sweet potatoes or maybe we’ll just put this dessert into the mini fridge for later,” he says, firmly.

“That’s what a mean Daddy says. We won our game. I should get pizza treats and not have to eat more yucky vegetables. Healthy food. Ugh. I hate it and I hate you!” I make a gagging sound completely inappropriate for a dinner table and realize I’ve gone too far.

---