Page 41 of Cage

Tonight, before we left the main house, I told her it was time to go home. As if it’sours. Because for some goddamn reason, it feels like she belongs there.

“When we all became a family, we made a rule that anyone home had to attend dinner together. It’s our bonding time, and it’s so we all see each other regularly and can make sure everyone is doing okay.”

Ember thinks about that for a moment as we walk the paved path toward my house in the dimming evening light. She’s so small beside me. The top of her head barely reaches my shoulders. For every step I take, she has to take three. Part of me wants to pick her up and carry her home on my hip.

When she looks up at me, her eyes sparkle with sadness. “I never had dinners like that. With family. Not since my mom died, but I was so young, I don’t really remember them.”

I stare at her, swallowing thickly. “You deserved better, firefly. You still do. Maybe it’s crossing a boundary, but your father is an asshole.”

Every time she tells me something about her childhood, I hate him more and more. He might have a flawless public record, but that means nothing to me. The way he treats Ember, that’s what I care about and from what I can tell, he’s failed miserably.

She snorts, and I’m starting to wonder if there’s anything about her that I don’t find cute.

“Offering to help me in the bathroom is totally normal to you, yet calling my father an asshole is possibly crossing a boundary?” she asks.

Shrugging, I pull my hands from my pockets and reach for one of hers. When I lace our fingers together, I expect her to shake me away. When she doesn’t, I give a gentle squeeze as we step onto the porch.

“I don’t really know what’s normal or not. Don’t care, either. I’m certainly not what anyone would consider normal. Pretty sure most people think I’m strange as fuck.”

When I let go of her to open the door, she doesn’t release me. “Fuck those people,” she says casually. “Art is strange, but it’s still beautiful.”

I blink several times, letting her words soak in. And as she stares up at me with those deep brown eyes, I’m finding it harder and harder to remember why she shouldn’t be mine.

My woman. My Little girl.All mine.

“No swearing,” I mutter.

She sighs, a soft smile playing at her plump lips. “Yes, sir,” she says sassily as she salutes me.

Arching an eyebrow, I step closer and put my face inches from hers. So close that I can feel her breath on my lips.

“The correct answer is ‘Yes, Daddy,’ but I’ll let it slide for now. Next time, you’ll lose a Good Girl Point.”

We stare at each other, breathing each other’s air. Everything around us fades, and all I see is her. So beautiful. So shocked by my words. So fucking mine. And as we stand here, I’d do just about anything to hear her call me Daddy once.

When she starts to open and close her mouth like a fish out of water, I give her a gentle shove inside, chuckling to myself. I guess I’ve shocked her.

Once she finally recovers, she peers up at me, her cheeks bright pink and her pupils blown wide. “I’m, um, I’m going to go take a shower.”

My cock twitches at those simple words. Fuck. Ember naked, with water dripping down her body. That’s a goddamn beautiful fantasy right there. But she’s meant to be in Little Space today, and even though she was more in her adult headspace during dinner, I want her to end the night feeling Little.

“Little girls don’t take showers. They take baths.”

She pauses mid-step and turns toward me, nibbling her bottom lip. “Oh. Um, okay.”

I stride over and take her by the hand. “Come on, firefly. I’ll run you one.”

“You don’t have to do that. It was really nice of you to let me play these past few days, but you don’t have to take care of me. I don’t want to be a bother.”

Oh, fuck no. What is it with her and thinking that? Did her father make her feel that way? I really fucking hate Zeke Griffin. He’s going to have a lot to answer for when I speak with him again. Ember might not be mine, but I’m sure as fuck not going to let him get away with being a shitty dad.She deserves family dinners and movie nights and holidays spent doing festive activities that make her happy. Birthday parties and traditions. She deserves everything and more.

Stopping halfway down the hallway, I let go of her hand and turn to face her. She nearly collides with my chest.

“Omph! Cage, why’d you stop? I almost smacked right into you,” she snaps as her palms rest against my pecs. As soon as she realizes it, she yanks them away like she’s been burned.

That shouldn’t irritate me. It fucking does, though. I curl my fists at my side to keep from grabbing her wrists to place them back on me.Why doesn’t she want to touch me? Is it fear? Orsomething more? Does she feel the same explosion of electricity that I do every time we touch?

“Look at me, Little girl,” I say firmly.

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