Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Wrapped once more so warm and safe in Hamish's arms, Chloe sat naked on his lap, just soaking up his gentle cuddles. The sting and throb in her thoroughly punished bottom still pulsed in that wounded, erotic way that had her pussy so confused. Never had she felt anything like this from anyone or anything, not even in between the pages of the hottest, most erotic fantasy Daddy Dom book she'd yet read.

She felt loved, even knowing that wasn't possible after so little time.

She felt connected, cherished and so… so accepted in ways she couldn't put into words.

His arms were warm and strong, wrapped all around her, holding her head to his chest and her much smaller body snug against his. He rocked her, gentle side-to-side motions that made her feel the way she had when she was a little girl, being rocked on Grandpa's lap the way he'd done the summer she'd spent on the farm with him. Starved for this kind of attention, she'd practically lived on his lap for the two months that she'd been there. She was still starved for it, it seemed, and it was as if Hamish instinctively knew how best to fill those needs.

She could die here, just like this. In his arms, on his lap, his slow, easy breaths playing with her hair, the occasional press of his lips on her forehead never failing to make her wish she could just lift her chin and touch her lips to his. Just the thought made her toes curl and her fingers clench in the folds of his shirt.

She wanted to burrow into him.

She wanted it never to end.

But all too soon, it did.

With one last stroke of his hand over her hair and down her back, he patted just above her hip. "Get up."

She didn't want to move, but she didn't want another spanking more.

Sniffling, she obeyed. Oh god! There was a wet spot on his thigh, right where she'd been sitting. She'd left a wet spot on his leg!

She closed her eyes, her face burning hotter than her behind.

Please don't let him notice.

Fate, apparently, wasn't taking requests.

Tsking, Hamish stood up behind her. The heat of his breath brushed her ear just before the deep rumble of his voice murmured, "Naughty, naughty girl."

How her embarrassment could deepen more than it already had, she didn't know, but it did. Especially when he placed his hand on her burning bottom and patted, nudging her toward the bedroom.

"Go," he told her. "Get your nightgown and meet me in the bathroom."

"The… bathroom?" she stammered.

She wasn't sure she wanted to be that kinky, but when he arched his eyebrow, to the bedroom she went. Gathering her nightshirt off the pillow where she'd left it that morning, she measured the nightshirt against herself. It wasn't a nightgown. Just an old shirt that barely covered down to the tops of her thighs.

He's seen you naked for the last hour , her brain reminded. What the hell's the issue?

She had no idea.

He put his fingers up my ass.

She covered her burning cheeks in both hands, but the fire in her face was nothing more than a pulsating extension of the sultry throb tormenting her sex.

God, he hadn't even put one finger inside her; he'd used two, lubing her up for the plug both inside and out. And then the torturous plug, whose pinches of pain as he'd damn near fucked her with it, forcing her aching backhole to accept the widest part of the base over and over again, couldn't begin to compare with the absolute shame and pleasure than washed over her in alternating waves.

She was so hopeless, helpless. Confused. and drawn, as if by invisible strings, back out of the bedroom into the bathroom, where she saw him. Hamish was already down on one knee, adjusting the water temperature as the bathtub slowly filled. Though he had to have heard her come into the room, he didn't glance up. He simply turned at the hip, reaching into the cabinet beneath the sink to his left, and pulled out a white tub overflowing with toys, no-tears baby shampoo, and a Baby-Shark bath towel and hoodie combo.

The towel he placed on the sink counter. The toys, he poured into the bath water, adding a hefty dollop of pink bubble bath directly into the stream. White froth built in the bottom of the tub, expanding into a thick cloud-like mound of bubbles that just begged to be played in. As a final touch, he placed a large, empty, plastic cup on the edge of the tub.

Chloe had no idea how to read the look he wore when he stood. It was dark, somber, locked with a strange intensity that made the butterflies in her stomach riot. She trembled and she didn't know why, except that something deep inside her really liked being stared at this way.

The bathroom was small. So small it only took two of his long steps before he was standing directly in front of her. Her tingling nipples swelled, her breasts growing heavy and hot, aching to feel the gentleness she knew his calloused hands were more than capable of being.

She jumped when she felt the brush of his fingers along her forearm, just before he took hold of her nightshirt and pulled it from her weakening grip. Heat flushing her core, her chest, her face, even her fingers… Chloe just let go. For the second time today, she stood utterly naked before him, trembling through and through, but not because she was afraid. No, fear was the last thing she felt.

Draping her nightshirt over the towel rack, Hamish walked her to the tub. "Check the water temperature. Make sure it's comfortable for you."

Her hands clenched into fists, her shaking intensifying as her mind raced. Checking the water meant bending over.

Right here.

With him standing beside her, watching her every obedient movement.

As if he hadn't seen every secret part of her already. A couple times, in fact. Knowing that didn't make her shake less harder, or steady her knees so they stopped buckling weakly in and out.

"Go on," Hamish drawled, that weird intensity deepening the hue of his green eyes.

She stood there, frozen in place, drinking him in and breathless to stop.

He wasn't smiling, but something told her he was definitely enjoying this and every inch of her couldn't help but respond.

Slowly, she bent, bracing a hand on the side of the tub while hot water ran over the tips of her other fingers. This was more than just obedience. The certainty of it could be felt in every nuance of her soul. It was titillating and erotic and, god, her heart was thundering behind her ribs, battering mercilessly away.

"Too hot?" he rumbled.

She shook her head. "It's perfect."

"Not yet, it's not." Holding out his hand for hers, he helped her step into the water. Chloe sat when he told her to, his steady hand holding onto hers until she was safely down. The cloud of floating bubbles nearly covered her as it was, but with nothing else to distract her from the embarrassment, she drew her knees all the way up, hugging them to her chest.

"There," he said, hands on his hips, his gaze roving her in hungry approval. "Now it's perfect."

The minute he walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him, she was going to masturbate the hell out of herself. If she didn't, she just knew she'd never get this– him –out of her system.

Except he didn't leave.

Lowering himself onto his knees beside her, he took off his shirt, tossing it haphazardly onto the counter by the sink. Picking up the plastic cup, he swept her relatively short hair back from her shoulders and poured hot frothy water over her head.

He was careful not to let it get in her eyes, using his hand on her forehead to control the water's flow. Every pass of his hand as he thoroughly wet her hair cut through the eroticism, broadening and heightening it until she could no longer tell which was worse: the endless thrills that shivered her every time his hands found her, and the devastating loss whenever his touch abandoned her again.

"Here comes the shampoo," he murmured, the rumble of his low voice trembling through her. "Be a good girl. Close your eyes for Daddy."

Chloe melted into his touch, her eyes drifting closed as his fingers combed through her hair, gathering up her relatively short hair and scrubbing it into a sudsy hat on top of her head. He constantly wet his hands to swipe errant bubbles from her forehead before they could get into her eyes.

He washed her back, her face and yes, when he selected her arms one at a time to gently scrub her skin from shoulders to fingertips, he even got her armpits. And then her breasts, the warm caress of his hands as he washed her front seemingly oblivious to the jut of her stiffening nipples. She ached there, tiny mews of embarrassed pleasure escaping through tightly pressed lips as she fought to pretend she felt nothing even when his fingers gently circled her nippies in turn, plucking and softly tweaking… Just to hear her mewl again? She didn't know, but she suspected it and yet made zero protests because god forbid he should stop.

She really ought to stop him, before this went too far.

Or was that what she wanted, for him to keep in touching her like this, for him to lower his hand from her breasts to her tummy. Would he go lower down? Her hips twitched, her thighs squeezing tight together as if feeling his touch down there was the last thing she wanted.

Her breath hitched, her throat tightening as in tiny circles he moved down to her tummy. "If you want Daddy to wash hi– your kitty, spread your legs. You don't have to if it's not what you want."

Her legs were opened as far as the sides of the tub would allow before he'd stopped speaking.

She turned her face away, the heat of her blush hotter than the water she sat in.

"No, my bonnie wee lassie," he soothed, his fingers caressing tiny circles lower and lower down her abdomen. "Look at Daddy."

Oh god, his hand was pushing down, infiltrating the space between her trembling thighs. That first electrifying shock when the tips of his palm closed over her pussy and his fingers squeezed…

Oh…

"I own this now," he breathed, his lips barely a hairsbreadth from hers. "This…" His fingers squeezed, harder, bringing her right up onto her tiptoes. "This sweet kitty right here, belongs to Daddy. Doesn't it?"

She damn near melted right there in his arms.