Page 14 of Impressing Brett

She’s standing at the entrance to the kitchen looking as Little as I’ve ever seen anyone. Does she have a clue how fucking cute she is and what she’s doing to my libido?

I smile. “Good morning, Little lamb. Did you sleep well?”

She nods. She looks shy and hesitant. It’s her Little. Her adult is extroverted. This Little girl is the one I brought home last night, and she’s still in the same headspace. I wasn’t sure which side of her would show up this morning.

Her hair is messy and tucked behind her ears. Her T-shirt is rumpled. It’s just a thin white cotton shirt. It has done nothing to conceal her breasts or the tight points of her nipples.

She has put the black yoga pants back on, but her feet are still bare. She’s not moving.

I reach for her. “Come. I wasn’t sure what you’d like for breakfast, so I made a little of everything.”

“You cook,” she murmurs as she inches toward me. She brings her hands together and fidgets her fingers together. I bet she’d be more comfortable if she were still clutching the teddy bear, but she probably thought that would be crossing a line. Hopefully, I can convince her otherwise sooner rather than later.

I just need to find a way to introduce her to my world, a world she may or may not be aware exists. Then I’ll pray she doesn’t laugh me out the door and run for her life.

“Of course, I cook,” I inform her. “Is there anything you don’t like?”

She finally gets close enough for me to wrap an arm around her and pull her gently into my side. She tips her head back. “I can’t remember when I last ate a real breakfast. I usually make coffee when I get to work and then grab a granola bar from my desk drawer a few hours later.”

I frown. “That’s a terrible diet, Little lamb.” I’m glad she’s not balking at the nickname I’ve given her because it’s growing on me. I’m glad her lamb has shown up this morning, too. So fucking glad.

She shrugs. “I’m not that great of a cook, and I don’t like to take the time. Besides, how do you eat all this so early in the morning?”

“With my fork,” I tease.

She giggles. The fucking best sound in the world.

I grab her shoulders, spin her around, and walk her over to the island. When we reach the stool she sat on last night, I lift her by the hips and settle her on the seat.

Last night, I had to force myself to let her do it. It would have been too forward, but we’re dangling in gray territory this morning. She might not know it, but she’s so fucking Little.

“Milk or juice?” I ask.

She turns up her nose. “I don’t really like milk. If you want me to be alive, I’ll need coffee.”

“Coffee is not good for you, Little lamb. How about juice and real food? Let’s see how you feel, yeah?” I propose. If she were mine, I would insist, but we aren’t there yet.

She stares at me for several seconds and then shrugs. “I don’t think you’re going to like me without caffeine, but it’s your experiment.”

I chuckle at her feisty answer. “We’ll see then. Challenge accepted.” I pour her some apple juice in a tumbler like last night and set it on the table in front of her.

This morning, I had the foresight to pull some dishes out of the cabinet before she arrived. I’m not sure if she noticed the sippy cups or any of the other girly plates and bowls I have in that cabinet when I opened it for dinner, but I don’t want to answer questions about all of that just yet.

When she picks up the cup to take a drink, I barely stop myself from my instinct to tell her to use both hands. It’s natural for me. Like breathing. Which I apparently do a bit too well since she thinks I use all the oxygen.

I grin to myself as I face the stove again. I dish up eggs, bacon, and pancakes onto a pink plate for her. It’s just pink. It doesn’t have princesses or any other design on it. Baby steps.

I made a few important calls last night before I went to sleep and this morning. First, I let my boss, Blade, know I won’t be in today. Luckily, I’m not in the middle of a specific assignment this week. That would have sucked.

Earlier this morning, I called Colt and told him about my suspicions. It was before he took Eve to work, so he put her on the phone, too. I wanted to make sure she would trust my judgment when it comes to telling Lacy about my lifestyle. Our lifestyle.

I would never in a million years break Eve’s confidence or any other Little girl’s or even anyone in any type of preferred lifestyle kink. But I suspect as we work through this morning, there’s a chance I’m going to need to explain some things, and undoubtedly Eve’s name is going to come up.

Eve was hesitant at first, but she spoke to Colt while I waited and then came back on the line and told me she trusted me to decide. I know that was hard for her, and she’s probably stressing out with worry, but I’ll do my best to make sure this doesn’t blow up in her face. That would be the worst thing that could possibly happen.

I do not want to ruin Eve’s friendship with Lacy. I’d kick myself for the rest of my life.

When I set the plate in front of Lacy, her eyes go wide. “That’s a lot of food, Brett.”

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