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Once this was over . . . then she worried she might not be able to find those pieces to put herself back together.
33
Beck lowered her into the water.
Wow. That felt so nice. It warmed her aching muscles. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been. She guessed part of it was her fall yesterday.
The other part was all due to Jonathan.
So she likely had years’ worth of stress to get rid of.
“Do you want some toys to play with, Freckles? I think we have some things in here.” Beck turned to search through the cupboards.
How many Littles had he bathed in here?
Beck turned back, holding some plastic cups and a plastic duck and whale. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just . . . whose toys are those?”
Understanding filled his face. “Yours.”
“What?”
“We’ve never had another Little in this house. We’ve never even had a woman here unless she was someone who worked here delivering groceries when we couldn’t manage it.”
“Oh.” Now she felt silly. But why did they have the toys?
He put the things in the bath. “I don’t know why I bought these things when there was no one to play with them. I just . . . like to be prepared. It’s why I set up a playroom in the spare bedroom and have it filled with all sorts of things that a Little girl might like.”
“I . . . a playroom?”
“Yes. I was thinking you might like to take a nap in it after your bath?”
“I . . . I’m not sure.”
“You’ll want to see it first. I’ll show you after your bath.”
She nodded. What happened if she saw the playroom and never wanted to leave?
“Here you go. Look at Mr. Whale. I think he sucks in water.” He pushed the whale under the water. Then pulling him out, Beck squeezed. Water shot out of his blowhole and she giggled in delight, taking hold of him.
She sunk him deep under the bubbles and then drew him out, making him shoot water up high.
Beck grabbed a washcloth and some gel that smelled like strawberries. He soaped the cloth up and started washing down her back.
She had the duck and whale racing through the water.
“Go, Mrs. Duckie! Go Mr. Whale!” she cried out.
“Who is going to win?” Beck asked.
“Hmm, well, I don’t know, Daddy Beck. Who do you think? If Mrs. Duckie decided to fly, then she might kick Mr. Whale’s ass.”
“Don’t say ass,” he scolded.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because Little girls shouldn’t swear.”
“Saying ass isn’t swearing, Daddy Beck.”
“Little girls should say bottom.”
“Okay, Daddy Beck. I won’t say ass.” She gave him a sly look over her shoulder.
“Brat. You’re coming close to feeling my hand on your bottom.”
Oops. He seemed serious. She turned around to play with her toys as he continued to wash her. He’d moved to her shoulders and arms.
“Lie back, Freckles, and I’ll do your legs.” He washed her toes and feet. Then he moved up her legs, washing them with long strokes.
Ooh. That felt nice.
Hmm. She had an idea of how she might get him to take his T-shirt off. She looked at Mr. Whale. She swore he was giving her a disapproving look.
Don’t do it, Chloe.
But Mr. Whale, it will be fun.
You’re going to get in trouble.
She glanced over at Mrs. Duckie.
Do it. Do it. Do it.
I want to see those abs.
Yeah, she’d bet they were to die for. He was now washing her tummy and breasts.
Shoot. Her nipples had grown hard. She squeezed her legs together, somewhat distracted by her feelings.
Do it. Do it.
She pushed Mr. Whale down, filling him up. Beck turned away for a moment and as soon as he turned back, she struck, squirting the water right up into his chest and face.
He gaped down at her, his face dripping, with water on his chest.
She started giggling. She laughed so hard that she actually slipped under the water.
Oh shoot!
Strong arms reached down to grasp her under her arms, pulling her up before she could sit.
She gasped for breath. The water had gone into her ears and up her nose and in her mouth. “Yucky!”
“Freckles! Are you all right?” Beck ran a towel over her face and hair.
“I . . . I . . . yucky!”
“I know. I bet that didn’t taste very nice.” He gave her a stern look. “But neither was getting Daddy wet with that water. Was it?”
Uh-oh.
Was he really upset?
And why wasn’t he taking off his top? Shoot. This wasn’t going the way she wanted. So far, the only one wet and naked was her.
“Well, that didn’t go to plan,” she muttered.
“I bet. Naughty Mr. Whale,” he scolded.
She sighed. “It wasn’t Mr. Whale, Daddy.” She couldn’t let the whale take the fall for her. As much as she might want to. “He actually advised against it. It was Mrs. Duckie who egged me on. She’s naughty.”
