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Connor walks to Cory’s side. "Say thank you, boy."
"Fank you." Cory’s cheeks turn pink.
It hits me all at once that Cory’s feeling too Little to properly speak. Well, I'll be damned.
Taking a step back, I regard my angel with fresh eyes. Never in my life have I seen a cuter guy. He licks his sucker, his floppy hair falling over his forehead as he stares up at me.
The palm trees and monkeys on his diaper are flat-out adorable—they make my heart swell.
I pat his bum. "You’re welcome, boy."
Cory pops the sucker into my mouth. "Daddy try. Good."
I swirl my tongue around the candy tip. All at once, a wave of tropical goodness floods my taste buds, making me groan.
Pineapple. I didn’t realize they made pineapple suckers—I’m glad as hell they do.
Patting his bum again, I heave him off the table and bring him toward the bead-painting station. "Make Daddy a pretty picture, boy."
Cory wastes little time in getting to work. He moves the beads toward the plastic sheet determinedly.
As I lean back with my hand in his hair, I think how lucky I am. This time last year, I was in a one-sided relationship with an asshole who’d go on to accuse me of raising my voice at him. One who lied about me.
Now, I’m a happy, happy Daddy. The happiest in New York.
Chapter 11
Cory
Oh, no.
Checking the date on my phone one last time, I resign myself to the sad fact that this life-changing weekend is over.
Soon, I’ll head back to my shitty apartment, remove my Little clothes, and wait until Leaf hits me up to see him again.
It’s such a shame—I never want it to end.
As I fight back tears while repacking my bag, I think about the amazing time we’ve spent together. The giant, soapy bubble bath was awesome. So were the oversized rubber duckies we played with. The food, oh that wonderful breakfast, along with the plastic utensils I used every time I ate, was to-die-for.
I can’t forget the romantic evening Leaf and I shared after we returned from Little Land. He gave me permission to eat chicken nuggets, color, and drink my chocolate milk out of my sippy cup while we watched TV. Dream date—dream Daddy.
After, he removed my diaper and took me to bed. There, he made love to me for the first time. His thick, juicy cock pillaged the innocence of my channel walls, thrusting deep, stoking my flames of need.
I cried out, gripping his bedsheets, my head swimming with love and affection—and I called him Daddy when I came.
Yes—Daddy. Such a powerful, important word. One that’s as universal as it is specific to our budding relationship.
I never want to leave.
"All packed, baby boy?" Leaf walks into the living room.
I blink back tears as I slump down on the sofa. Burying my chin in my palms, I try not to look weak.
Some naïve part of me thought Leaf would offer to move me in today. Ha. I was wrong.
Leaf has a busy life. Sure, we clicked—but actually moving someone in? That’s a different story.
I nod. "Yes, Daddy."
