Page 26 of Tame Me Daddy

Grant's hand settled on my back, a steady, grounding weight. "Good girl," he said, and the praise washed through me like warm honey. "I'm so proud of you, Cherry. That was incredible."

I lay across his lap, catching my breath, letting the tears slow. The storm of emotion had passed, leaving behind a strange clarity. I felt more present in my body than I had in years, maybeever. I’d done it. I faced my fears, all my fears, and I hadn’t run into Littlespace. I’d been present.

And what I felt now was a complex mixture of relief, vulnerability, and a desire I couldn't ignore. My body hummed with awareness of his touch, his strength, the careful power he wielded with such responsibility. I wasn't sure if he could tell, and the thought made me flush with a different kind of embarrassment.

"How are you feeling?" Grant asked, his hand moving in slow circles on my back.

"I don't know how to explain it," I admitted. "Lighter. More . . . here."

"That's good," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "That's exactly what should happen. You’ve been dealing with some big things, haven’t you?"

“Yeah, I have.”

“I’m here to talk about any and all of it, when you’re ready. I feel like we’ve been through a lot together already, haven’t we.”

“Mmhmm.”

His hand moved to my shoulder, squeezing gently. "Ready to sit up?"

I nodded, suddenly nervous about facing him after everything that had just happened. His hands guided me up carefully, mindful of the tenderness he'd created. When I finally sat beside him on the edge of his lap—his arm keeping me steady—I couldn't quite meet his eyes.

Grant's fingers gently tilted my chin up until I had no choice but to look at him. What I saw wasn't judgment or disappointment. His brown eyes were warm, focused entirely on me, pupils slightly dilated in a way that made my breath catch.

"You did beautifully," he said softly. "Stayed present the whole time. Honest with your reflections." His thumb brushed away a lingering tear on my cheek. "How does your bottom feel?"

The direct question made me blush again. "Warm. But not too bad."

Grant nodded, looking satisfied. "Good. I wasn't trying to hurt you, just get your attention."

"You definitely did that," I said with a watery laugh.

His eyes searched mine, and I had the strange feeling he could see right through me—could see the desire that had awakened during what should have been simply disciplinary.

"Some unexpected feelings can come up during discipline," he said carefully, confirming my suspicion that he'd noticed. "That's normal. Nothing to be embarrassed about."

I looked down at my hands, twisted in my lap. "I didn't expect to feel . . . that."

Grant's hand covered mine, stilling their nervous movement. "The trust and vulnerability create a connection that can bring up all kinds of responses. It doesn't mean you enjoyed the punishment itself." His voice dropped lower. "It means you responded to the intimacy between us."

When I looked up again, I saw something in his eyes that mirrored what I was feeling—a heat that had nothing to do with discipline and everything to do with the bond that had formed between us in these raw, honest moments. I bit my lip. “I mean, I kinda enjoyed it, too.”

He gave me a wicked grin. “Well, that bodes well for the future, baby girl, because I enjoyed it, too.”

"So, what happens now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Grant's hand moved to my face, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

"Now," he said, "we make sure you're okay. Aftercare is just as important as the discipline itself."

He shifted me gently off his lap and stood, keeping one hand on my elbow to steady me. My legs felt like rubber bands as Ifound my footing. Every nerve ending in my body seemed twice as sensitive as before.

"Come," he said softly, guiding me toward the leather couch in the corner of his office. "Let me take care of you."

The leather creaked as he sat and pulled me down beside him. Without hesitation, he gathered me into his arms, tucking my head under his chin. I melted against the solid wall of his chest, my tears finally subsiding. The world contracted to just this: his heartbeat under my ear, his arms around me, the lingering warmth on my bottom, and the strange sense of peace that had replaced the storm.

"You did so well, Baby Girl," he murmured against my hair. "I'm proud of you."

The praise washed over me like warm honey, sweet and soothing. Something small and wounded inside me unfurled at the sound.

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