Page 26 of His Little Ametrine
I wiggle my toes, which shocks and pleases him. “Hmmm,” I ponder. “So if I have a little tantrum, you’ll spank me?”
He lifts both brows now. “Little girl, are you testing your Papi?”
“Maybe?”
He shakes his head. “Maybe we should at least wait until you can hold your head up on your own, naughty girl. I’ll just keep a tally of all your sassy behavior and save it up.”
I push my bottom lip out in an uncharacteristic pout. I don’t even know myself. This is not me. I’m someone I don’t recognize. What happened to the black clothes, dark makeup, and messy braids? I’ve become a makeup-less infant with pigtails and no clothes.
I’ve never been overly modest. I’ve been known to wear a bikini at the beach so everyone can see my gorgeous tattoos, but I’ve never been an exhibitionist either. I’ve never flashed my tits at people.
In a crazy twist, I don’t seem to care who sees my nipples. No one has yet, but the idea is kind of titillating. I’m curious to see if what Papi has told me is true—every woman living here is from Earth and wears nothing but a diaper?
Suddenly, I have another concern. What do these women do? Do they have jobs? Where? Will I be able to sing?
Papi tickles my toes again, making me squirm.
“Will I be able to find work here, Papi?”
He frowns. “Work?”
I stiffen. “Yes. You know. Singing. Please don’t tell me you intend for me to stay home cooking and cleaning while you do manly things like work.”
His frown deepens. “You will never cook and clean, Little one. In fact, I don’t want you near the oven or stove. It’s not safe.”
I gasp. “Not safe?” Is he delirious? “I’ve been cooking since I could drag a chair over to the stove to heat up my food. I knew how to start the burner by the time I was about four. Sometimes the only food I had was canned. I learned how to operate a can opener or risk starving.”
His brows are furrowed deeply. “I’m sorry, Little one. That must have been hard. You’ll never be hungry here. I will provide for you, feed you, and clean you up afterward.”
“Do you work?”
He smiles. “I do.”
That’s…vague. “What do you do?”
“I’ve decided not to tell you yet.”
My mouth hangs open. I blink several times. “Why?”
He shrugs. “You’ll see soon enough.” Papi touches my toes again, distracting me.
“Where will I get a job?” I ask this, framing it as though it’s understood I will work somewhere. “I’m a singer, Papi. I want to sing.”
“You can sing all you want, Baby girl. I will never stop you. Your voice is angelic.”
I shake my wobbly head. “No, I mean in front of an audience. I want to perform.”
He grabs my big toe, leans forward, and kisses it. Annoying man. “Females on Eleadia do not stray far from their Papis, Little one. You can feel the bond between us growing. We keep our mates close to us at all times. Those who work out of their homes take their Little ones to work with them. Those who work at home are fortunate enough to keep their mates entertained in their home offices.”
I’m taking short shallow breaths, trying not to cry. My lip quivers. “But I want to sing, Papi.”
He releases my foot and leans closer so that he can set his hands on the sides of my bouncy seat near my head. “Papi will find a way to fulfill your dreams and make you happy, Baby girl.”
Tears leak out, and I can’t stop them or wipe them away. I can’t quite get the message to my hands to lift to my face.
Papi grabs a soft cloth and gently strokes my cheeks. “I love you to pieces, Sara. It hurts me to see you cry.”
“I’m a singer,” I insist.
