Page 34 of Accepting Love

My heart stays in her room as I shut off the light. I pull her door almost closed, smiling at the pink nightlight that comes on and illuminates the ceiling above it with dancing stars.

The house feels empty without her next to me. I hate it. This sleeping arrangement isn’t going to last long.

I know a lot of Daddies maintain special rooms for their Littles, places where they can play and take naps and be themselves. Maybe at some point we can turn one of the guest rooms into a Little space for her and make the master bedroom a space we share.

Right now that feels wrong. It’s her space the way she wants it. I don’t mind a bit. I’m not the kind of man who needs blues and browns and other masculine colors in my space. If it pleases Carolina to have the master bedroom pink and frilly, by God that’s how we’ll have it.

That doesn’t mean we can’t turn one of her other rooms into a playroom. Though she has Little things peppered through her house, I don’t see toys and coloring books. I don’t see dolls and stuffed animals.

They could be hidden. Maybe they are in a box under the bed or in the closet. It’s possible, but I’d rather she have a fully dedicated space.

I head for the guest room across the hall from the master bedroom. Leaving the door open, I settle on the bed and pull my computer into my lap.

While she’d been in the bath, I’d returned to my car and retrieved my overnight bag and my computer bag. I’d brought both to this room and changed before catching my Little girl with her fingers between her legs.

I’ve never seen anything so precious in my life. Part of me had wanted to stay silent and watch. Let her touch herself. I want to know what she looks like when she comes.

But I didn’t want her to think I would permit such a thing. I’m greedy. Her orgasms belong to me now.

I open my laptop and check my emails. I’ve neglected my business most of the day, but I can’t manage to care. My employees are amazing. I warned them something had come up and I would be mostly unavailable for a while. They took it in stride. I know they will call if they have a crisis, but I also know they will do everything they can to avoid a crisis. I pay them well. They work hard.

No fires in my emails. I smile and open social media. Instead of scrolling anything of my own, I go straight for Carolina Fraser. I want to know everything about her, and I spend the next thirty minutes smiling as I learn what concerts and venues she’s played at recently. I love her expressions. I love that I can tell how hard she works to exist in vanilla society.

No one else would ever notice. It’s subtle. But I know her, and I know Littles in general. Some separate easily. Others do not. She’s told me it’s a struggle for her. She’s made it clear it’s her biggest concern.

I know my toughest battle is going to be helping her learn to obey me and rely on me in all things while toggling her adult and Little personas off and on by flipping a switch.

She’s right. She needs to present herself as a capable adult to the world. I get that. It’s important to her. No one would understand if she stepped out of this house in her Little headspace.

I also see where the challenge will lie. She struggles to be anything but Little in my presence. She was extremely Little at dinner. She even gripped my arm like a lifeline as we left as if she were holding on to something tangible instead of a piece of her personality.

I hate that society would not understand her Little side. It will be my job to protect her and help her. Guide her so that she presents appropriately. The only other option isn’t one I care to entertain—letting her go to concerts without me.

I shudder at the idea. I intend to be everywhere with her. I want to be in her dressing room and on the front row. I want to watch her play up close and personal. I want her to be able to see me in the audience and know I’m holding her in my arms while she plays.

It won’t be easy. She’s going to struggle. But I want this to work. Every part of it. I don’t want to be Carolina’s at-home Daddy. I want to be in every part of her life day in and day out.

When I finally shut the laptop and carry it over to set it on the dresser, I turn off the lights and lean out into the hallway, listening for any sign that my Little girl is not asleep.

I hear nothing, so I climb into bed. I leave the door wide open though. If she needs me, I want her to know I’m available at all times.

God, how I’d rather climb into her bed and pull her against my chest. I bet she’ll start sleeping better when she’s in my arms. Maybe that’s cocky of me. Maybe I’m crazy. She’s obviously never slept with anyone. It’s just as likely she won’t be able to sleep at all. She might even push me away and not want to be touched.

I hope not. I dream of spooning her with one arm wrapped around her middle, our legs tangled together, our breathing in sync. I dream of waking up to slide down her body, spread her legs, and lick a line through her pussy until I flick my tongue over her clit and make her cry out.

I can’t wait to watch her squirm. I can’t wait to taste her come. I can’t wait to listen to her moans.

Soon. I need to rein in my little head and convince him to hold his horses. I’m hard as a rock, which is my own damn fault for letting my imagination get away from me, but I’m not going to jerk off in Caro’s guest room when she might walk in any time and I’ve laid down the law that she’s not permitted to masturbate.

Chapter8

Zane

It takes me a while, but I finally drift off, and I sleep hard because the next thing I know, a tiny voice is near my ear. “Daddy?” It’s soft and feathery and so very sweet.

I’m surprised when I open my eyes to find the early rays of dawn filtering into the room. When I turn my head toward the heavenly voice, I find Caro standing next to my bed. She’s hugging the lion in her arms. Her hair is tousled. She looks nervous.

I roll to the side and reach out toward her. “What’s wrong, Little one?”

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