Page 20 of The Captain's Little Girl

CHAPTER8

Collapsing against Mark’s powerful chest, Cricket looped her arms around his neck to hold him close. She tightened her grip as he lifted her into his arms to carry her down the hallway to her nursery. To her delight, her daddy sat in the wide rocking chair with her cuddled on his lap. Slowly, he pushed with his feet to send them gliding back and forth as if they had all the time in the world.

Minutes passed as he held her close. Cricket sighed happily. There was no place she’d rather be than in her daddy’s arms. Mark kissed her forehead.

“Happy, baby girl?”

“More than ever before.”

“Me, too. I was a fool,” Mark said, shaking his head.

“The past doesn’t matter, Daddy. Maybe we wouldn’t appreciate each other as much now if everything had been easy.”

“Thank you for not giving up on us, Cricket.”

She lifted her lips for a kiss and then snuggled against his chest after receiving it. Cricket loved the feel of his hand stroking through her hair as they rocked together. This room would soon hold a ton of special memories.

When her tummy growled loudly, interrupting the quiet serenity, Cricket clapped a hand over her belly.

“Sounds like you need some nourishment, baby girl. Let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll go have breakfast.”

Mark rose smoothly from the chair and carried Cricket to the changing table. Laying her down, Mark fastened a safety belt around her waist and lifted her legs straight up into the air with one hand as he grabbed a wipe.

“Daddy!” Cricket squealed, struggling against his hold.

“Settle down, little girl. I’ll have your bottom clean in just a minute.”

“I can do it,” she rushed to assure him.

“Daddy’s job.” Mark carefully stroked the towelette over her bottom and pressed her knees forward to spread her legs.

When her skin was free of her arousal, he placed her feet on the table again. Pointing at a small black object painted on the wall next to them, Mark released the waistband slightly and directed, “Turn over on your side, baby girl. Check out the decoration.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

Mark simply held her gaze and lifted one eyebrow. Slowly, Cricket chose to follow his directions. Focusing on the object he’d pointed out, she discovered it was a small black insect.

“It’s a cricket!” she celebrated, looking over her shoulder to see Mark pull an oversized thermometer from the forbidden drawer.

“No,” she protested, knowing from the other Littles just where that thermometer was going. “I’m not sick.”

“We don’t know that until I take your temperature. This won’t hurt,” he assured her as he opened a large jar of lubricant.

Cricket blinked at the sight of the container. The size seemed to imply this would happen frequently. She turned back around to stare at her namesake after catching sight of a large dab on his fingertip.

“Good girl. Hold still,” Mark directed, lifting her top buttock.

Trying not to squirm as he applied the cool lubricant to her clenched opening, Cricket held her breath. It came out in a gust as that finger pushed through the tight ring of muscle guarding her entrance to spread the slick mixture thoroughly.

“Try to relax, baby girl,” Mark counseled as he removed his finger.

“That’s easy for you to…” Cricket lost the last word she meant to add as the cold thermometer slid deeply into her bottom.

“How did you get your name, Cricket?”

“Do we need to talk now?”

“It will make time go faster for you.”

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