I nod. “Please.”
“Do you love me?”
That he ever thought I might have stopped loving him makes my arms tighten around his neck. “I do.”
“And I love you. Are you mine?”
I grin. “Yes, daddy.”
“Good girl. Come home with me.”
When we get to his apartment he picks me up in his arms and carries me to the bedroom. We make love and it’s ferocious and intense, and he marks my shoulder with his teeth. Afterward I feel weak and loved and satisfied. Rufus kisses me and goes into my room and gathers up every stuffie he can find and puts them all on his bed, then gets back in it with me. We’re buried under a mountain of elephants and bunnies and teddy bears.
“You didn’t change anything,” I say. “You didn’t get rid of my things.”
“I couldn’t. I didn’t want to give up hope that you’d come back to me.” He strokes my cheek. “How do you feel, babygirl?”
“Wonderful.” I shift and three stuffies fall to the floor. “Oops. I’m making a mess.”
“Good. I’ve missed your mess.”
I’ll remind him of that next time I leave a towel on the floor. “Did you sleep with a stuffie while I was gone?” I ask.
He pulls me into his arms. “No. You’re daddy’s stuffie, sweetheart. I only wanted you.”
When I wake the next morning he’s asleep beneath blue dogs and yellow rabbits. I smile and stretch like a kitten, and then pick up Chubbles and pad out into the lounge. I fetch a pink blanket from my room and Chubbles and I curl up on the couch and watch cartoons.
Ten minutes later my stomach rumbles and I look thoughtfully at the kitchen.
When Rufus comes into the lounge room half an hour later he grins at me. He’s pulled on a pair of jeans but his torso is bare. It makes my heart ache sweetly to look at him. There are half a dozen empty boxes of Pocky and two dozen sweet wrappers scattered all around me. Rufus frowns, looks toward the kitchen where there’s a chair under the open cupboard where my treats are stored, then back at me.
He folds his arms. “Babygirl. Have you been bad?”
I chew my lower lip, smiling. “No, daddy,” I say, shaking my head.
He raises an eyebrow and gives me a look. “Babygirl,” he says, a warning note in his voice.
I point to my stuffie. “It was Chubbles.”
“I don’t think so, princess. In fact, I think you’re telling fibs and you’re eating treats for breakfast.” He sits down on the couch and points to his knee. I just look at him, tingling all over.
“Well?” he asks. “Are you going to get that behind over here?”
“Yes, daddy.” I get on my hands and knees on the couch and slink into his lap.
He grabs my ass with a firm hand and pushes me down. “Good girl.”
* * * * *