I smirk. “Don’t get sassy with me, Little love. Remember, I can and will spank your bottom if needed.”
She clenches her thighs together at the mention, making me chuckle. “Soon, Brea. I’ll spank you so you’ll know what it feels like.”
“People don’t spank grown adults,” she argues.
I tap her nose. “In my world, grown adults can also be naughty Little girls who need their bottoms spanked.”
“Your world is weird.”
I chuckle again. “Perhaps, but you’re living in it now. It’s your world, too.” I keep a close eye on her to make sure she doesn’t squirm while I step to the fridge and open it. I pull out eggs, sausage, and bread. “Is there anything you don’t like?” I ask as I set all of this on the counter next to her and retrieve a pan.
“Broccoli.” She scrunches up her nose. “I don’t even like it when other people eat it. It stinks up the house.”
I smirk. “Noted. No broccoli in the house.”
When she flinches, I turn to look at her closer. Her eyes are wide. “Just like that? I say I don’t like broccoli, so you’re not going to cook it?”
I frown. “Why would I cook something that makes you feel sick just smelling it? That would be mean.”
She stares at me. “People are mean.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m your mate. I live to make you happy now. Broccoli is now banned from my life.”
“What if I don’t like spankings?” She cocks her head to the side, almost smiling.
I laugh. “Honest answer?”
“Of course.”
“In my experience, Little girls tend to misbehave intentionally because they love getting spanked. If for some reason, you determine you truly hate having your bottom swatted, I’d find some other way to discipline you.”
“Really?” She sits up taller.
“Yes, Little love, really.”
“Well, I’m certain I won’t like being spanked, so you can skip to option number two right now and save us both the frustration.”
This Little girl is an absolute delight. I’ve only known her name since she woke up, and already I’m enchanted. Her wit is hilarious. “Nice try, Little love.”
The sausage sizzles in the pan as soon as I drop several patties onto the hot surface. While that’s going, I pop four slices of bread into the toaster and crack eggs into a bowl.
I have a million questions, but I want to feed her first. My questions can wait until her tummy is full. In fact, her tummy growls again, so I grab a sippy cup from the cabinet, add a scoop of formula, and fill it with water.
Brea stares at me while I shake it, and she lowers her gaze to the cup when I hold it out to her. “That’s a sippy cup.”
“Yep.”
“You really take this Daddy thing seriously.”
“I do.” I give it a shake.
“Did you just put some powdered formula in it?”
“Yes, Little love. Trust me. You’ll like it. You guzzled it down several times yesterday.”
“I wasn’t even conscious.”
“True, but you were eager every time I put a nipple in your mouth. You would have balked if it hadn’t appealed to you.” I jiggle it again.
