Page 29 of Daddy's Little Convict
Humming a soft lullabye, he carried her to the living room couch, setting her down in the center before placing the bottle on the end table and gathering her into his arms. He turned her on her bottom so her back was to him, then drew her down to lie half in his lap while he cradled her.
This time when he offered her the bottle, he did it with her in a comfortable feeding position and he was no longer interested in her holding it for herself.
"Mm," she protested around her thumb.
"No, Tabby," he reprimanded, pushing her thumb away. "Daddy doesn't want to spank your bottom, but you need to eat, baby girl. Say ah for Daddy."
The mutiny softened in her eyes as she looked at him.
"You don't want Daddy to give your bottom a smack, do you?" he coaxed when she didn't open her mouth. He lightly caressed the tip of the bottle along her soft lips. "You're not wearing your diaper. Daddy has a very big, very hard hand. See?" He wiggled all the fingers he didn't need to hold the bottle with. "Babygirl's poor little bottom will feel all the ouchies for a very long time. You don't want that, do you?"
She sniffled and shook her head.
"Say ah for Daddy."
Reluctantly, she opened.
"Good girl," he soothed, slipping the adult-sized nipple between her lips. "Drink the nummies down into your tummy."
Her eyes locked with his. For just a moment, he saw the glassiness of her gaze give way and flickers of awareness took its place.
"There's a good girl," he told her as she began to drink. "Daddy has such a good little girl."
Where mutiny had darkened her eyes just moments ago, guilt and pain now lit her crumpling face.
"You are not a bad girl, Tabby baby," he assured her, tightening his hold around her shoulders when she released the nipple with a broken gasp and tried to roll away. "No," he commanded sternly, and she obediently froze. "Look at Daddy."
Sniffling and swallowing, she hesitantly peeked back up at him, her wounded eyes watery with all the tears she refused to let fall.
"You're not a bad girl, no matter what."
She began to cry.
"I'm sorry you got hurt, but Daddy has you now, and I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."
She cried harder.
"Open," he coaxed, bringing the tip of the bottle back to her mouth.
She shuddered as she sucked a choking breath. "I don't want to go back to prison, Daddy."
"Shhh," he soothed. "Don't worry about that now. Drink your nummies."
She tried to shake her head, but he insisted, caressing her lips back and forth with the tip of the bottle.
"Drink," he said in his Daddy voice.
Sniffling again, she obeyed.
"There's my good girl." He liked how the tension slowly abandoned her as he cradled her in his lap. He liked even more how she gazed up at him while she drank. He'd have done anything in that moment to dispel the sadness from her gaze, but there was trust there too. Trust where there shouldn't have been any, in the body of broken little girl.
"Who's going to send you back to prison?" he asked, careful to keep his tone soft and comforting. "Travis?"
She sucked studiously, draining the bottle all the way until it was empty. He took it away from her before she was reduced to sucking air in order to avoid answering his question.
"Was it Travis?" he asked again. He rubbed her stomach. His hand really was big compared to her. With his fingers and thumb splayed, he nearly covered the surface of small tummy.
She tried to put her thumb in her mouth, but he caught her wrist and pinned her hand to her stomach.
