Protector Daddy (MC Daddies 3)

“No.”

“You’d wait until later and use your vibrator?”

She shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Selfish prick. Baby girl, sounds to me like you found a fucking idiot for a Daddy. Selfish and a dickshit.”

“I’m beginning to realize that. Do you mean that I . . . that you’d be okay with me playing while in Little space?”

He stood and walked towards the door. She stared at him. Was it something she’d said?

“Stay.”

He disappeared and she sat there.

When he walked back into the bedroom, he was carrying a tablet in his hand.

“Scoot over,” he told her. Then sat next to her so she could see the tablet screen.

Which was showing a website . . . selling toys.

“Choose what you want. Add it to the cart and we’ll get it.”

He really wanted to buy her some toys?

“I can’t.”

“Don’t know what to choose? What do you think you’d like? Legos? Coloring pens and shit? Soft toys? You like dinosaurs, huh?”

Oh hell. She was going to cry. She could feel herself welling up. And she hated crying. The other night had been the first time she’d cried in months.

“I, uh, yeah. But I can’t let you get me things. Not when we …” Are just a temporary thing.

She didn’t want to say that. She didn’t want to make the words real.

“You need shit to play with. Got nothing here. You like music?”

“Yes,” she said immediately.

He glanced over at her and she blushed. “I like to sing. And dance. I’m no good at it, though.”

“Hmm.” She noticed him adding a keyboard and a kid’s karaoke machine to the cart.

“Really, I don’t need all this.”

“I say you do. And last time I checked; I was in charge.”

She sighed. “So it’s your way or the highway?”

“No, it’s my way or the corner.”

“What?”

“Keep arguing with me and you’ll find yourself in time-out.”

“I don’t think that’s at all fair.”

“Noted.”