Page 70 of Their Perfect Daddy

“Potty,” I tell him softly.

For some reason, I don't want to use full sentences. It's as if playing and regressing is making words harder, even though my mind is still functioning at full capacity.

“Then let's get you to the potty,” Daddy says.

He takes my hands and walks me into the bathroom. After he puts me in front of the potty, he stands off to the side with his back to me. Part of me is okay with it, but a bigger part of me wonders why he won't watch to make sure I don't make a mess.

When he turns back around after I flush, he praises me and says I should wash my hands while he uses the restroom next. I watch him unzip his pants, but I don't move to do as he says.

A part of me wants to try something, but I don't know how to say it. “Daddy…”

As he reaches into his pants, Daddy turns to look my way. “Is something the matter, Princess?”

Looking from his eyes to where his hands are, I take a step closer.

“I help, Daddy?” I ask as I widen my eyes. He smirks at the question, then pulls his hands away.

“Be my guest,” he says. “You can always put your hands on me, Princess.”

Excitement floods through me at the chance to do this. I don't quite know why I want to, only that I do. I reach into his underwear, grabbing his length, which has begun to harden. When I have it out, I aim it at the bowl, and then I lean over and look up at Daddy.

“Go, go,” I tell him.

I feel him pulse in my hand as he relieves himself. When he's done, I shake it like I would do to my own, then tuck it back inside his pants. I try to zip him back up, but the angle is awkward, and I feel as if my fingers have stopped working.

He laughs, then moves his hands over mine to help me finish the task. “Now we can wash our hands together,” he tells me.

It's as if he read my mind. Standing behind me, he goes through the process of lathering both of our hands with soap and then cleaning them.

When we're all done and back in the play area, I dive right back into my toys, happy as can be. It's strange this feels as right as it does, yet at the same time, it's not strange at all. I'm not quite sure when my life became this different. I hope to have many, many more days like this one. Days where I can be free, and Daddy takes control. Where I get to explore, and I'm not judged for it, even if it's something unconventional. Where Monty actually gets to rest his body because he needs it.

We're creating our own little family, and I really, really love it here.

CHAPTER 23

MONTY

This is utter bullshit.

I can’t believe I have to stay in this bed all the time while everyone else gets to go out and live their lives. They can walk and run without a single worry. Meanwhile, I have to call out to Daddy for help if I need to go to the bathroom.

Neither he nor our princess have complained about being at my beck and call. I know I should probably be enjoying the chance to relax. My life has been busy since I went pro. This isn’t something I get to do often.

But I can’t enjoy it. I can’t relax knowing how long I have to be confined to this bed.

And trust me, I’ve tried. From old school cartoons to having an Ean Garner movie marathon, nothing distracts me enough to forget what my life as become.

According to the research I did when my men were sleeping—aka asking Dr. Google a ton of questions—this type of injury could take upwards of six months or more. It doesn’t ring a bell when I think of the timeline I was originally given.

Then again, I was drugged out of my mind due to the levels of pain radiating through my system. I’m still on some heavymedication as it is. Three weeks past the date of my accident, and I’m only on OTC meds now as needed.

Back to my findings… From what I can understand, there are three stages to my compound fracture, or rather the type that breaks through the skin. The first stage is where the inflammation in the body is high as it fights to heal right after the injury.

I can remember being puffier than usual when I first woke up. I assumed it was the drugs, I now know it was my body’s self-defense mode. I’m better now. Less ‘I ate three pizzas’ and more ‘comfy padding’ level of bloated.

The second stage of healing is supposed to be about repairing the body. This one is supposed to vary based on the severity of the fracture. With what I know of mine, I’m leaning more towards this stage lasting months over a couple of weeks like some might experience.

I also feel like it’s where I’m at now. It’s a slow process; however, it’s necessary to get to stage three: the remodeling stage.

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