Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“Okay. Down you go.”
To her shock, he crouched in front of her, then reached under her long gown to pull down her panties.
“Eek!” she cried.
“Sorry if my hands are cold, baby,” he told her.
She wasn’t in shock over cold hands.
“You just pulled my panties down.”
“Yep. Can’t pee with them on.”
Well, no.
But . . .
“I could have done that.”
“How?” he asked calmly.
Damn. He had a point.
“Sit, Devi. No more arguing. You need to pee and if you don’t, I’m going to take drastic measures.”
Considering he’d already threatened her with diapers, she was pretty certain she didn’t want to know what he considered ‘drastic measures’ to be.
“You really need to go,” she told him as she sat on the toilet with his help.
“Not happening, baby. And you need to get used to me helping you. Now, pee.” He stepped away and turned on the tap at the sink.
Gratitude filled her for his thoughtfulness. Even as she cursed him for being a bossy caveman.
Really? She had to get used to him helping her? What the heck? Why did he think he got to be in charge of her?
Well, you did like it earlier when he took charge.
Yes, but she’d chosen to give him control. This was different.
Yeah.
And you still liked it. You just don’t want to admit it.
She pushed her thoughts aside as she peed with relief.
“Damn. Long pee. How long were you holding that in?” he asked with a frown as she attempted to grab some toilet paper.
He walked over and grabbed some out for her.
“Hayes!” she squealed.
“What?”
“You’re not supposed to comment on someone’s pee.”
“Why is that?” He raised an eyebrow.
“B-because pee is gross?” she said it like a question without meaning to. “People don’t talk about going to the toilet.”
He snorted. “You have a brother. You know that’s not true. Nothing young boys like more than talking about toilet stuff.”
“That’s kids. Not grown adults. And will you please give me that toilet paper?” She eyed the folded up paper in his big hand.
He better not try to help her clean up.
Hard no.
“You need help wiping,” he told her.
“I most certainly do not.” Jeez. If her voice grew any more high-pitched then she was going to start shattering glass.
“Baby,” he said tenderly. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Yes, yes there is. We’re not . . . I don’t think we would ever be . . . that comfortable with each other where you would be able to do that.”
“I’m very hands-on. And there is nothing I wouldn’t do or want to do for you if you needed it.”
What was she supposed to do with that? She didn’t know what to say or even what he really meant.
Hands-on? Why would he need to be hands-on?
He wasn’t her boyfriend or her Daddy.
She might need to get that tattooed on her arm to keep reminding herself.
And why would she need him to do any of that? She had one good hand.
Devi shook her head. “I don’t . . . I can’t . . . please.”
“Fuck. Here you are. Getting ahead of myself. Just . . . if you need help, tell me.”
“Um, sure. Can you, um, turn your back. Please?”
She thought he might refuse, but then he turned around and moved to the sink to turn off the tap. She quickly cleaned up before he changed his mind and turned to flush. It was awkward, but better that she do it. Then she attempted to reach down and pull up her panties.
Suddenly, he was in front of her. He drew her panties up to her knees.
“What did I just tell you about needing help?” he asked gruffly.
“I’m not very good at asking for help,” she admitted. “I don’t like feeling like a burden.”
“You are not a burden, Devi.”
She wasn’t so sure of that. She’d felt like a burden most of her life.
“Can see you don’t believe that. So until you learn that you can ask for help, I’m just going to give it to you, okay?”
“You say that like you weren’t always going to do what you want. When I’m pretty sure you always just do what you want.”
His lips twitched as he lifted her onto her feet. “Hold onto me, baby.”
“You should probably stop calling me baby,” she informed him. Even though she liked it a lot.
“And why is that?” he asked.
“Um, well, because we’re not . . . well, that’s what you call someone you care about.”
“I care about you, Devi. Thought that part was obvious.” He lifted her into his arms, but instead of carrying her to the sink so she could wash her hands, well, her good hand, he started toward the door.
“Where are you going? I need to wash my hand,” she told him.
I care about you, Devi.
She needed a moment to think about that before she replied.
“I’ll get a cloth.”