Convincing Leah (Surrender Book 9)

by Becca Jameson

  “Do you still like the cotton candy room best?” I ask even though there’s no way I’d let her sleep alone, nor would she want to.

  “Yes.” She rushes back to that first room and points inside. “It has a door connecting to that room,” she declares, pointing to a much more acceptable room with a king-sized bed.

  “Let’s go downstairs and bring up our suitcases then.”

  After checking to ensure the alarm is indeed secure, I bring up the heavier items and let Leah carry the computer bags. We drop everything into the adult room before I head for the attached bath, happy to see there is a clawfoot tub. “Bath and bed for you, sweet girl. You have to be exhausted.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She drags her feet toward the bathroom, but I know she’s tired.

  I sit on the toilet seat and unravel her braids, pinning them up while the tub fills. In no time at all, I have her in the warm water, and I’m pleased to find a bottle of baby soap sitting on the edge. Roman truly does think of everything.

  “What does Master Roman use this house for, do you think?” Leah asks as I wash her arms.

  “I’m not sure, but I’m as curious as you, sweetheart. We’ll have to ask him.”

  “Dozens of people could stay here. It could be a bed and breakfast for age play couples.”

  “I agree, but I don’t think strangers stay here. I don’t think he rents it out. At least I’ve never heard Roman mention it, and I’ve known him a long time.”

  “Then it’s getting wasted,” she muses.

  She might be right. I have about a hundred ideas for what this place could be used for already. One day I’ll ask Roman about it.

  Leah bends her legs in the air as I lift her out of the tub, and she giggles as I pat her dry because I keep tickling her in all the places I know make her squirm.

  When she’s dry, I leave her to grab our toiletry bag and return, to pull out toothbrushes and toothpaste.

  Leah shivers when she’s done. “I’m chilly, Daddy. Can I wear one of your shirts tonight?”

  I kiss her forehead. “Nope. You can go climb into the bed and snuggle under the covers. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Okay.” She skips quickly across the hardwood floor and scrambles onto the bed, wiggling her naked body under the bedding. “Hurry, Daddy. I’m cold.”

  I shut off the lights in the room, leaving a nightlight on in the bathroom. It gives us just enough light to see without tripping over anything in the middle of the night.

  As I slide into the opposite side of the huge bed in my boxers, Leah scrambles over to me and pastes her body against mine. I love when she wraps herself around me. Every ounce of the day’s stress fades. I feel at home. It doesn’t matter that we’re not in our own bed in our own home. All that matters is that she’s with me, in my arms.

  She surprises me when she boldly climbs on top of me, straddles me, and plants her hands on my chest to look into my eyes. A slow smile spreads across her face, making her look angelic. “I love you, Daddy.”

  My chest squeezes tight. I grab her by the waist, flip her onto her back and switch our positions so that I’m straddling her. “Say that again.”

  She giggles. “I love you.”

  I shake my head. “All of it.”

  Another giggle that reaches inside me. “I love you, Daddy.”

  I lean down and kiss her, starting gently but then angling my head to one side and stroking my tongue along her lip until she opens for me. The kiss deepens as she moans into my mouth.

  I hadn’t expected to make love to her tonight because she’s been through so much today, but now I feel desperate, and I’d say she does too because her hands are roaming all over me, eventually reaching into my boxers to cup my ass.

  When I finally come up for air, I rise off her to strip out of my last article of clothing. Her eyes are glazed as she reaches for me. I press her thighs wider and hold her gaze as I line up with her channel and stroke the head of my cock through her folds.

  She’s soaked. Ready. She arches her body toward me. “Please…”

  I thrust into her, loving the gasp that rushes out of her mouth at the intrusion. She feels so good. So tight and hot and mine. I never want to let her go. No matter what things look like when she finds herself, I’ll love her just the same.

  We stare at each other, moving in tandem together, panting. When she turns her head away as if the intensity of our union is too much, I cup her face and bring it back to center. “Look at me while you come, sweetheart.”

  She licks her lips before parting them. When her breathing becomes erratic, I slide one hand between us to find her clit. As soon as I stroke it, she comes, her pussy clenching my cock so hard that I follow right behind her.

  When the pulses of our release subside, I find I’m grinning at her. My heart is overflowing. “Say it again,” I whisper.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  Chapter 27

  Two days later…

  Leah

  I’m sitting on the porch at the back of the house, my borrowed computer open in front of me. The air is so clean and crisp, the view so amazing, the scent of last night’s rain lingering.

  I’ve written thousands of words in the last two days. Everything feels easier for some reason. I’m not sure if it’s this place and the serenity of it or if it’s our declarations of love. It doesn’t matter. I feel peaceful for the first time in a long time. Maybe forever.

  Daddy opens the sliding door and steps outside.

  I stop what I’m writing mid-sentence when I see the look on his face. He’s smiling. He sets his phone down on the patio table I’m using and leans over to kiss me. “They caught him,” he announces.

  I gasp. “Thomas Levenson?”

  “Yep. He was trying to leave the country, and when they detained him, he got belligerent, pulled a gun, and shot two people.”

  My eyes go wide. “Oh no.”

  “They’ll both survive, but he’ll never be a free man again.”

  I blow out a breath. “Thank God. But I’m sorry he shot two people.”

  Daddy cups my face. “My sweet girl, always thinking about other people.”

  I shrug. “I can’t help it.”

  He comes around the table, lifts me from my chair, and carries me in his arms to one of the soft, inviting hammock chairs.

  I snuggle into him as he settles and gives us a light push so that we’re swaying in the breeze.

  “I can’t believe they caught him,” I murmur after a few minutes. I feel kind of sad instead of the expected elation.

  Daddy kisses my forehead. “You don’t want to leave here, do you?”

  I shake my head. “I miss my room at home and all, but it’s so peaceful here. I’ve even started thinking about the fantasy series I’m supposed to be writing.”

  He leans his face to one side to look at me. “Really?”

  I nod. “Uh-huh. Granted, I don’t think I’ve purged myself of Lizzy, but Suzanne is rearing her head as if she’s been neglected.” I roll my eyes. “As if that’s my fault.”

  Daddy chuckles. “You’re lucky I understand how your mind works. If anyone else heard you speaking, they would be seriously concerned.”

  I giggle. “Thank goodness you understand me then.”

  He holds my gaze for a while, stroking my arm. “I’ve been talking to Roman…”

  “Yeah?”

  “He told me some of the history about this place. It’s been in his family for a long time, and he maintains it even though he and Lucy rarely come out here. He’s been thinking about selling it, but he hates to let it go.”

  I search Daddy’s gaze but I don’t know where he’s going with this tale.

  “The place is large enough with enough rooms and bathrooms to be a bed and breakfast. Roman asked me if I might be interested in turning the house into something useful and managing it for him.”

  I smile wide. “Really?”

  He grins in return. “I told him I’d have to talk to you
about it first, and of course it’s all in the initial planning stages. We don’t have a clear vision yet, but if you’re interested…”

  I sit up straighter, grabbing Daddy’s shoulders. “I love it.”

  He chuckles. “We don’t even have a solid plan yet, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t care. I think it will be a great idea.” I school my face to a more serious expression. “Someplace for littles, of course.”

  “That’s my thinking.”

  “Either a vacation spot or maybe a place for training or lessons or something.”

  He nods and smiles again. “We’re on the same page.”

  “Let’s do it.” I’m suddenly excited about this not-at-all-developed plan of ours.

  He kisses me. “We don’t have to rush. We can meet with Roman several times and brainstorm, but I do believe Blossom Ridge could be an amazing destination spot of some sort in the near future. No reason for it to sit here unoccupied.”

  I throw my arms around Daddy’s neck and hug him tight.

  “Now… Someone needs her little bottom spanked this morning.”

  I squirm on his lap, as I always do when he makes that proclamation. I never know when during the day he might take me over his knees, but my nipples stiffen and my pussy clenches every time, day or night. Instantly. I’m like Pavlov’s dog. Daddy says he’s going to spank me, and I slide into a ball of aroused need.

  Everything is so perfect. I just hope it stays this way and I don’t have some kind of sudden transformation where I snap out of my alternate reality and mess things up.

  As Daddy flips me over and arranges me on his knees, pulling my panties down and pushing my dress up, my skin tingles. It seems impossible to think I could mess this up. And the moment he starts to spank me, I slip into a beautiful subspace that nothing can possibly destroy. Not even time.

  Chapter 28

  Two months later…

  Leah

  “Daddy,” I call out as I rush down the hallway, looking for him. I skid to a stop when I see that he’s in his office, sitting at his desk. Winded, I close the distance to him in seconds.

  He frowns at me. “Leah, what have I told you about running in the house and shouting?”

  I draw in a breath. “I know, but this is important. There’s a message from the realtor that someone is coming over to see the house right now. We need to leave.”

  He gives one of my braids a tug as he stands. “Okay. Is everything put away from breakfast?”

  “Yep. The place is pristine.” We’ve kept the house in perfect shape at all hours for the last five days it’s been on the market.

  I’m still uncomfortable about selling it because Daddy put so much of his own blood, sweat, and tears into fixing it up exactly how he wants it. But we’ve made a solid plan with Master Roman, and going back and forth from Seattle to Blossom Ridge isn’t going to be feasible or reasonable.

  Daddy says he’s excited about our new adventure and doesn’t mind selling the house. I hope he’s not just saying that. We’ve been to Blossom Ridge a dozen times by now. I love it there so much. It’s like my entire being shifts into a more relaxed me every time we arrive. Daddy says he feels the same way. That’s why we’re taking this giant step.

  Daddy glances down at my clothes. “You okay with what you’re wearing? When they get here, we’ll let them in and go out through the garage.”

  “I’m fine.” I don’t even look down. I’ve gotten much more comfortable in my little skin in the last two months. When we’re totally alone, I let Daddy dress me any way he wants, but this week we’ve known we might need to leave the house on a moment’s notice, so I’ve dressed in a toned-down version of my inner little just in case a situation like this ever arises.

  I’m wearing hot pink leggings, a white sweater, and white tennis shoes. No one would readily notice that my panties are babyish and I don’t have on a bra. These two factors are non-negotiable with Daddy. I know because I’ve argued my case for adult lingerie under certain circumstances several times. He’s shot me down immediately.

  If it weren’t for the fact that we always end up having the best sex of our lives after he dominates me so firmly, I’d probably put my foot down. The truth is that I like the fact that he insists I’m always little under whatever I’m wearing. He says it reminds me at all times that I’m his little girl even if we’re in public. He’s right.

  In the last two months, with the help and guidance of Master Quinten, I’ve learned to be assertive and push my boundaries. I’m not as agreeable as I used to be. I’ve stopped trying to please everyone and always be good.

  It felt very odd the first time I came to Daddy and demanded something I knew he would not give me. My first request was to be permitted to watch a scary R-rated movie for our movie night. Daddy had looked at me like I had two heads for a few seconds before realizing I was stretching my wings.

  He nearly always knows when I’m doing an assigned task for Master Quinten or when I’m legitimately making a request. He’s sharp.

  When I make ridiculous requests and he turns me down, then we move to the argumentative phase or the whiney phase or the stomping my foot phase. All of those end with me being disciplined in ways that make me shudder.

  Daddy still doesn’t spank me for punishment. That isn’t part of our dynamic. But he’s creative. I’ve spent countless hours in timeout, often naked. I’ve lost television privileges, phone privileges, and computer privileges—except for work of course. I’ve had countless favorite toys go onto the top shelf of the hall closet for days on end. I’ve had my books taken away. My crayons. My games.

  The punishment I dislike the most, however, is when he sends me not to my room but to his room for an extended period of time. His room is the most boring place on earth, especially when he’s not in there.

  We’ve settled into a routine that works for us. I’m little about seventy-five percent of the time. Daddy is nearly always the one who decides when I need some adult time. We have a word, or words I guess, for when either of us needs to pause and step out of little space. Brussels sprouts.

  I usually giggle when he uses it. I’ve only been the instigator a few times. In fact, that’s how Daddy knows if I’m serious about a request. If I really truly wanted to wear a thong and bra or put on makeup or wear my hair down, I could Brussels sprout my case. I’ve turned Brussels sprout into a verb.

  When I come to Daddy and argue for permission to wear adult lingerie without stepping out of my little space, that’s a good indication to him that I’m not serious. Or not serious enough.

  There have been times when I felt self-conscious about my nipples being obvious, but more often than not, he’s on to me on that issue. The moment my lips part to point out the problem, his brow goes up and he hands me a sweater—no matter how warm it is. That’s his concession. If I’m worried about people noticing my boobs, I can put on a sweater. End of discussion.

  Nevertheless, that’s one of my favorite arguments that lands me in trouble more than any other.

  A fraction of my adult occurs when we need to have a serious discussion about something as important as moving out of this house and taking on the job of managing Blossom Ridge. We’ve stepped out of my little space to discuss upcoming legal issues with my abductor or issues concerning money. We don’t do it often, but the option is always there when one of us needs it.

  The majority of my adult time lately is spent being Suzanne. She’s back. Slowly but surely. I don’t want to rush her or risk burning her out, so she only takes center stage about two hours a day, but I shift my mindset for her. If I didn’t, my books would sound like Lizzy’s.

  My clothes don’t change much. It’s not like I get to put on a bra for Suzanne’s time. Not a chance. But I have a pile of leggings and less childish shirts I wear. If that doesn’t clue Daddy in, I also pull my hair back into one ponytail at the back of my head. I don’t have to ask permission to step into Suzanne’s shoes and get to work on my latest fantasy
novel. Daddy will know because of my hair and the fact that I sit at his desk in his office.

  I write as Lizzy in my pink room. I write as Suzanne in his office.

  I still haven’t shared any of my alter ego’s books with anyone—not even Daddy—but I might one day. Maybe. I’ve been thinking about letting Daddy read one. I’m nowhere near close to publishing them, but again, someday, maybe.

  Those books are more like a journal. They’re an insight into my deepest fantasies as a little. Every kind of imaginative thing I’ve ever thought of goes into those books. When I think of Daddy reading them and maybe getting ideas, I shudder and change my mind.

  The doorbell rings and I pull in a breath. “That was fast.”

  Daddy takes my hand and leads me to the living room. “Grab a couple of bottles of water for Daddy okay? I’ll get the door.”

  I skip toward the fridge while he opens the front door, but I stop in my tracks and spin back around when I hear him say, “Avery?”

  I know that name. It’s his ex-wife’s name. Though we’ve discussed her on occasion, and I know Daddy used to see her from time to time, I’ve never met her.

  Feeling beyond self-conscious, and wishing I’d made it to the garage before they arrived, I turn around. What choice do I have?

  Daddy pulls the door open wider. “What on earth?”

  I’m rooted to my spot as I get my first look at Daddy’s ex-wife. She’s several inches shorter than me and blond, very blond, naturally blond. Her hair is thick and probably would reach past her shoulders if it were down, but it’s up in a high ponytail. She’s curvy, which makes me even more self-conscious for no good reason except that I’m too skinny.

  There’s no reason to compare myself to Avery, nor is there a reason to feel jealous. She and Daddy went their separate ways amicably five years ago.

  “Come on in,” Daddy says as he steps out of the way. When he does so, I finally see the man standing next to Avery. He must be Andrew, her husband. I already know he’s seven years younger than her. He’s slightly shorter than Daddy, six-foot maybe. Dark tanned skin and thick dark hair. His muscles have muscles, which makes sense since Daddy told me he’s a personal trainer.