“Wake up, baby doll. Easy,” a rough voice told her as she woke and she realized a firm hand was shaking her. She opened her eyes, staring up into Issy’s concerned face. He must have left a light on somewhere because it wasn’t fully dark.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Nightmare.”
He kissed her forehead. “About the fire?”
She nodded.
“Poor baby. Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. She’d already talked it to death. She wanted to forget.
“Go back to sleep,” she told him, feeling bad that she’d woken him.
His face grew stern. “Is that the way things work?”
“No.” She should have known better.
“The rules haven’t changed. If you wake up in the night, you’re to wake me as well.” Heat entered his gaze. “Now, it’s my job to help you get back to sleep.”
Her breath caught. She nodded, her heart racing for an entirely different reason.
“Can you put your hands above your head? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
She raised her hands above her head, and he pushed back the bed covers before drawing up her nightgown and latching onto her nipple.
Oh fuck. Oh Christ.
She wondered if he’d take her now. If he’d let her touch him, taste him.
And then his mouth moved down her stomach and he was drawing off her panties before he lay between her legs and started toying with her clit. He began to feast.
He ate her. Tortured her. Teased her. Drove her up to the edge then drew back until she was moaning, her heart racing. Finally, he thrust two fingers deep inside her as he flicked at her clit until she fell over the edge into bliss.
Then she couldn’t think at all.
30
“Caley do it!”
“Caley, cannot do it,” Issy replied calmly, although she could tell he was becoming increasingly unhappy with her.
These past few days had brought them closer than ever. She’d spent most of her time in Little space. And it had been freeing. Sure, there were times when adult Caley came out. Mostly during the middle of the night when she either couldn’t sleep or was woken by a nightmare and he would use his fingers or mouth on her.
Issy’s care and attention was helping her slowly heal. Physically and mentally.
There was just one snag. She hadn’t heard from Archer. She missed him. Missed talking to him.
Oh, and there was one other issue. Her daddy’s continued insistence that she be treated like an invalid.
“Caley can do it,” she told him, her bottom lip coming out in a pout.
“Caley, sit down and let me feed you.”
“Caley feed herself. I is a big girl.”
“Your hands are still healing.”
They were, but they were a lot better. So much so she only had to wear the lightest of bandages and she could go to the toilet on her own now. That was something to celebrate.