Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
He makes her call him daddy.
And even over his knee with her bottom bare for a spanking or naked and spread on an exam table and about to come for him with the doctor watching, daddy’s little girl always feels safe.
Publisher’s Note: Max’s Little Girl is a stand-alone novel which is the tenth entry in the Soldier Daddies series. It includes spankings, sexual scenes, and age play. If such material offends you, please don’t read this book
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Max Zion walked into the evening art class with weary muscles and wet hair. Walking in late on the first day wouldn’t make a good impression and was not how he normally behaved. Tonight he’d had to choose between arriving five minutes late after a quick shower or getting there on time and knocking everyone out with his stink from the intense workout Caden had run the team through today. He’d decided the class would prefer him to be late.
Sliding into the last chair at the tables arranged facing a raised dais holding a stool in the center of the room, Max nodded a silent apology at the woman talking. The instructor shot him a doubtful look. Yeah, he’d made a poor impression. Chafing at that thought, Max made a determined vow to be early for the Tuesday class and through the end of the semester. He’d excelled in the military because of his discipline and overachievement drive. Being judged as lacking didn’t sit well with him. Driving that concern from his mind, Max focused on what the instructor said.
“…from this introductory class on, late arrivals will find the door locked to protect the privacy of the models. It takes a lot of courage to pose in front of a crowd of artists. Having the door open and close, exposing you to random students clustered at the door, won’t happen. Does everyone understand? Any questions?”
Max spoke up. “My apologies for arriving late. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t. As I said before, I will lock the door promptly at seven,” she told him, spearing Max with a sharp look.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“By arriving late today, you’ve volunteered to be our first model. Take off your shirt, pants, and anything else you’re comfortable removing. Sit on the dais in the middle,” she instructed.
From the look on her face, the instructor expected him to say, “Fuck this” and head out the door. Max didn’t have a shy bone in his body. He’d spent too many years in high-pressure situations in the military with both male-only and mixed-sex teams. Being naked in front of others was definitely less intense than facing a bomb on a final countdown in a padded suit and helmet.
Max leaned over to unlace his boots. After a second’s hesitation, the instructor began speaking again. He could feel the weight of eleven sets of eyes on his back as he pulled off his footwear and socks. Max tuned into the instructions to block that weird feeling out.
The instructor’s voice moved through the room toward the exit, and an audible click of a lock engaging sounded loud. He nodded to himself. Even peeved with him for being late, she upheld her rules of maintaining a safe space for whoever modeled.
“As I announced before, each session we will focus on a different technique or area of the body. Our first class will serve as an example of where each of you is starting. Based on your drawings, I will focus class instruction on techniques that you may find beneficial to reaching your personal goals.”
Max stood and reached over his shoulder to tug off his T-shirt. The woman next to him gasped loudly. He didn’t react. She wasn’t in awe of his chiseled muscles. If he hadn’t been injured, his many healed scars would have drawn attention instead. He bet none of their pictures would depict the stab wound that had just missed his kidney or the tangled burn scar on his shoulder blade from the fiery shrapnel that had pierced his protective padded suit.
Tonight, the vibrant black and blue bruise already spreading across his ribcage and extending over half his back looked bad—almost as awful as it felt. He really should have dropped Koa off that cliff instead of grabbing his ankle to stop his teammate’s plummet toward the ground. Unfortunately, that decision had caused Max to slam onto the rocks. Mentally, Max shrugged. Koa was a pain in the ass on most days, but he had a Little now. Max had to make sure Koa made it home to Giana.
From the opposite side of the room, the instructor hadn’t spotted the injury. She obviously thought the woman was swooning at Max’s powerful body, for the next thing out of her mouth was to censor the woman who’d reacted to the injury. “Models appear to allow us to study the human body in all its forms. They are not here to titillate or perform in a sexual manner. If you are not mature enough to handle seeing something unclothed, this is not the course for you.”
Max took pity on the student who’d reacted with sympathy and turned to face his desk as he unfastened his jeans. Now his battered side faced the instructor and the other students on the other side of the room. A low whistle came from one of the men who said, “How are you even moving?”