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“I don’t want to be a tough cookie. Cookies are yummy but I like squishy cookies.”

“You made me a squishy cookie,” he told her with a tap to her nose.

His little teapot smiled and hugged Hopscotch closer. “Sorry not sorry, Daddy.”

“Alright, silly girl,” he said, coming to his feet. “You remember what to do if you get scared or you need something?”

Cosy waved the pink and white walkie talkie at him. “Press the button on the side and call for you and Papa.”

“That’s right, clever girl,” he told her before leaning down to plant a kiss on her forehead. “And what’s the other very important thing to remember?”

“I’m not allowed to get out of the crib by myself because I might get hurt. I can wait for you and Papa or I can use the walkie but no climbing.”

“Yes, exactly.”

They hadn’t given Cosy very many rules—no swearing, always tell the truth, follow Daddy and Papa’s directions, that kind of thing—and they rarely had to discipline her for breaking them.

When it was in fun, their babygirl could take and really seemed to enjoy a significant amount of pain. But when she was being punished? A few dozen swats was enough to have her sobbing and she wasn’t faking—he knew from crocodile tears.

He had impressed upon her that not getting out of the crib without help was a big one because he didn’t want her getting hurt. Truthfully he wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap so she’d never get another scratch he or Ian or hopefully someday, Ryker, or anyone else she chose to play with hadn’t given her. But he was doing his best to chill, at Ian’s hissed insistence. It…wasn’t going great. He’d work on it.

“Okay, teapot, sweet dreams. Papa or I will be up at five to get you.”

She made Hopscotch wave at him and he reluctantly pulled the gate of the crib up. It was fine. She’d be fine. He might be a nervous wreck for the next hour and a half, but Cosy would be fine. Her eyes were already closing before he could shut off the light and he forced himself to walk out the door and head downstairs, patting his pocket to make sure he had the walkie. Yep, still there.


Tags: Honey Meyer Erotic