Daddy's Girl

Ch. 4 Daddy

Chapter 4
Daddy

Emma
After finishing my juice and cookies, I am finally full for the first time I can remember in months. I can already feel myself slipping back into my little space, Emma slipping back into Emmy, content to let the warm fullness in my tummy ease me from all my big-person worries and stress. Sylas is going to let me stay here and even though we have only just met, I feel relieved knowing I won't be sleeping on the streets tonight. I will have to be extra careful to hide my little self so Sylas doesn't discover the truth but for now, I allow myself to relax. Strangely this is the first time I can recall feeling entirely safe since leaving home.
As he washes my dishes in the kitchen sink, I take a second to admire my rescuer's profile, drinking in the toned bronze of his athletic build, the delicious broad strokes of his shoulders. He has changed out of the suit since our first encounter and is now dressed in dark jeans and a short sleeved black t-shirt that rids up, exposing slim slivers of abdomen. Even in little space I recognize this man is gorgeous and my little self cries out for his attention and praise. Strange. I wonder what it means that I want his affection, that I like the way he has cared for and doted on me. Perhaps it is merely a part of being a little.
"I do not have a wide selection of clean clothes for someone so precious-" Sylas begins and I blush- "but I will go ahead and ring for Marsha; she will show you to the bathtub and help you to bathe." He does not ask if I want or need Marsha's assistance.
Before I can think better of it I cross my arms in a pout. "No baff. No water." I look to Pesty for support and in my head he agrees. Yes, Little Mistress, I know you despise baths. Arella always had the worst time getting me into the bath at home.
Sylas looks over his shoulder and gives me a smile that melts my heart into my toes. "Aw come on, Princess. I promise I will buy you new clothes. Pretty pink sweaters and ballet flats and tutus and scrunchies. Do you think you'd like that?"
My ears perk up. Tutus? Scrunchies? Father never let me wear either. He claimed they were unbecoming of someone of my social status. Butt-head. But a bath... Even filthy I detest the idea.
"What if Marsha included some bath toys? Maybe a rubber ducky?"
Okay now we're talkin. I hate baffs. But a rubber ducky? I love duckies. Arella never let me play with toys in the bath for fear father would find them later and then how would we have explain it? But then I hesitate. Big girls, which Sylas thinks I am, don't play with bath toys. Big girls don't throw a fit over having to take a bath. Hide little me so big me can eat and be warm, I remind myself.
I finally give a reluctant nod. "No toy."
Sylas raises an eyebrow but mercifully says nothing, instead going around the corner and pulling a large velvet rope. No noise sounds but I hear a pair of scurrying feet before an older woman with long silver hair and kind eyes appears. She immediately reminds me of Arella and my heart aches. "Yes, Sir? You rang?"
"Marsha, wonderful. Our little guest-"
I flinch.
"- has finally woken. Can you prepare her a bath and attend to her while I oversee some papers in my office?"
The woman (Marsha) bobs a curtsey and turns to me with a gentle smile. I hide behind Pesty. "My, my, my, what a lovely little thing you are. Sylas told me how beautiful you are but I didn't-"
     "Marsha" Sylas interrupts. I'm surprised to see his ears have turned a bright pink. I smother a giggle and he shoots me a playful glare. I squeal and hide behind Pesty again.
      "Oh yes, yes, my apologies." But Marsha leans in towards me as if to share a secret, her whisper loud enough for Sylas to hear. "He's embarrassed easily ever since he was a boy. I think he's quite fond of you already."
     My eyes widen and now I can't tell who is more embarrassed: me or Sylas.
     "Marsha" He sighs.
     "Yes, yes, come along then, little one." Marsha gestures for me to follow her but I hesitate, hugging Pesty tight as my eyes find Sylas's. For some reason my feets are glued to the floor.
     Sylas smiles at me as if he senses it and comes to crouch down to my eye level. I should flinch or move away but instead I am distracted by the rich aroma lingering on his clothes: burning wood and something spicy, something forbidden and tempting. I fight the urge to bury my face in his chest and watch as he cups my cheek, trembling with delight at the sparks that ignite from his touch. "I'll be right here when you are done. I promise."
     I hold out my pinky.
     He chuckles but obliges, curling his long pinky around mine. "Pinky promise, Princess. If you get scared and want me, Marsha will ring for me, okay?"
     I bite my bottom lip. Nuh uh don't wanna go. And that's what's most ridiculous about this entire situation.
     "Remember Mr. Ducky? He's upstairs waiting for you. You don't want to stand him up do you?"
     I frown. "No toy." But even I can hear the longing in my voice. Yes toy.
     Sylas gives me a knowing look. "Because you don't want them or because you don't want anyone to say something mean about your toys?" His tone is knowing as if he already knows the answer.
    I think of Father. "No toy." Me really wants toy, though.
     Sylas sighs but allows Marsha to escort me away.