Page 62 of Impressing Brett

“Don’t touch me,” she murmurs.

“Why not, Little lamb? Tell me.”

“Because I said so,” she retorts, arms crossed again in a huff.

“I’m going to need a better reason than that, Little lamb.” I slide one hand closer so I can finger a lock of her hair.

She jerks her head to the side to dislodge me. “Stop it.”

“Tell me, Lacy. Tell Daddy why you don’t want me to touch you.” I have a strong suspicion. I want to hear her say it. I lean in closer so our breath mingles. That’s almost like touching. I let my nose brush against hers.

She gasps and swats at my chest. “Stop it, Daddy.” She gasps, eyes wide, before twisting her head to one side and squeezing her eyes closed.

Bingo. “What happens when Daddy touches you, Little lamb?” I stroke her cheek with my thumb.

She leans into my touch and lets me cup her face with my palm. “I can’t deny you when you’re touching me,” she admits.

“I think it’s that you can’t deny your Little when I touch you.”

“Same thing,” she whispers.

“You can’t stuff her in a closet and not let her out, Little lamb. She’s already been out. She can’t go back in.”

“Yes, she can. She has to. It’s not safe to come out,” Lacy argues in a very little voice as she swipes at her teary eyes.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure it’s as safe as possible for the rest of your life, Little lamb. I’m not perfect. Sometimes, bad things happen. Occasionally, someone is going to find out you’re Little. Those times will be stressful for a while. You might have to explain yourself or defend your preferred kink. But you’re strong. You can do it. And I will always be there to help you through the rough times.”

“Don’t want to,” she argues. “It’s too hard.”

“Not as hard as adulting all the time when what you really need and want is to turn your care over to me and let me handle the tough stuff.”

She sniffles. After a moment, she throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my middle and clinging to me for dear life.

I grab her, lift her off the floor into my arms and carry her away from the damn corner. I hate that corner. I’m not using it for any fucking timeouts while we’re here. I don’t think she’s in any state of mind for timeouts, anyway. She needs physical contact, not time alone.

She’s shaking in my arms as she clings to me, her feet dangling.

I carry her to the armchair, settle in it, and lift her onto my lap to hold her close, sideways. I love how she draws her knees up and curls into a tight ball on my thighs, her small arms around my neck as if she might fall off the edge of the earth if she lets go.

I rub her back and whisper in her ear. “It’s okay, Little lamb. Daddy’s got you.”

She doesn’t cry, but she sniffles. She’s probably out of tears. “Are you sure?” she asks.

“Definitely. I will always have you. Every time you need to be Little, I will have you. If you fall, I will pick you back up. If you stumble, I will catch you. If you need to cry, I will hold you. If you need to laugh, I will…tickle you.” I give her tummy a quick tickle to emphasize my point.

She scrunches to that side. “Stop it, Daddy.”

I cup her bottom with one hand. “How about you let Daddy change you out of these jeans and into something more comfortable? You’ll feel much better if we spend the afternoon snuggled together on the loveseat watching cartoons. You can hold Bear, Banana, and Jasmine. What do you say?”

She tips her head back finally. “I didn’t bring anything Little.”

“I did,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen. “You did?”

“Of course. A Daddy is always prepared.”

She cups my face with both hands. “I’m sorry I’ve been naughty.”

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