Page 56 of Giddy Up, Daddy

She sucked in a breath. “I guess not.”

Hmm.

He wasn’t so sure about that. Maybe she’d be happy with someone who wasn’t a Daddy Dom to begin with, but it could become hard to suppress her needs and desires.

Even if she could, it didn’t seem fair to ask her to do that.

Especially when he was starting to wonder if he might enjoy being a Daddy Dom.

He’d been doing some research online and everything he’d read resonated with him.

Stafford hadn’t been certain he could be kind and nurturing enough. That he’d enjoy taking care of a babygirl.

Until Blakely.

He wanted to do all of that with her. To look after her. To dress her. Play with her. Punish her when she was naughty.

Lift her up. Ensure that she knew she was precious and wonderful.

Loved.

“What about a Daddy Dom who is just learning who he really is at the age of forty-two? Would you want to be with someone like that? Someone who can be grouchy and blind. Who can sometimes say the wrong thing because he doesn’t want to be hurt? Who wants to do what is best for you but might not always manage it because he could make mistakes and he’s fucking terrified of making a mistake with you and you leaving.”

Shit.

Fuck.

That might be the most vulnerable he’d ever been in his life, and part of him couldn’t really believe that he’d just said all of that.

Worst of all, Blakely was silent.

Completely still.

He drove up to the house and parked. Sitting there, he breathed in and out heavily.

“Or has that guy already ruined things?” he whispered.

To his shock, she quickly undid her seatbelt and then climbed over into his lap. With a grunt, he pushed his seat back and undid his own belt.

“Blakely? Baby? What’s wrong?”

She was shaking. Was she upset at what he’d said?

Fuck.

What had he done?

“Sorry . . . I just . . . I . . . I appreciate that you want to give me what I need, but I can’t force you into being something you’re not. You’d be miserable with me. It’s not right. And that’s so hard to say since I want it so much,” she wailed as she wrapped herself around him tight. “No one has ever offered to do something so nice for me.”

This wasn’t really about him being nice.

Had she already forgotten that he’d just carried her out of a bar over his shoulder?

She should be mad at him. Instead, she was sitting here, thinking that he was being nice?

And he fucking hated that no one had ever done something kind for her. Him, included, if he was honest. What had he done for her? Given her an orgasm?

Right after he’d spanked her.

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