Convincing Leah by Becca Jameson

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.

Avery giggles, which I find oddly calming. It reminds me she also lives in some sort of age play arrangement. She grabs her husband’s arm as they step inside. “Andrew and I have been looking for a house. He saw yours and set up this appointment without telling me where it was. I didn’t fully grasp where we were heading until he parked out front.” She giggles again.

Daddy shakes Andrew’s hand. “Come on in.” He turns toward me and reaches out a hand, still speaking to Avery and Andrew. “You haven’t met my better half.”

I take a deep breath and approach, trying to plaster a grownup smile on my face. It’s jarring, and I’m nervous. I kind of like how Daddy referred to me though. As soon as I’m in his reach, he wraps a possessive arm around me and pulls me into his side. “Leah, this is my ex-wife Avery and her husband Andrew.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, sounding ridiculous to my ears.

Avery smiles warmly. “So nice to meet you too.” She shifts her grin to Daddy. “I’d heard through the grapevine that you’d met someone, but we haven’t spoken in a long time. I’m so happy for you.”

She seems genuine, so I try to relax.

I also notice she’s not any more adult right now than me. Daddy told me she’s a middle, but I don’t know how much of her life she spends in that space. I’m guessing a lot because even though I know she’s the same age as Daddy, forty-five, she doesn’t look it. She has on dark purple leather tennis shoes, black leggings, and a flowy brightly colored shirt with swirls of red, pink, blue, purple, green, and yellow.

Andrew sets a hand on her shoulder and tips her head back. “We might be intruding, honey.”

She scrunches up her face and shifts her gaze back to me and then Daddy. “Right. Sorry.”

Daddy shakes his head. “No worries at all. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you and let you know I was selling the house, but we’ve been so busy. Come on in. Look around. I remodeled the entire house in the last few years.”

Avery glances around, seeming to take everything in for the first time. “Wow,” she says as she wanders a few steps toward the kitchen. “You did an amazing job. I love it.”

“Thank you. I wish I’d had the time to do all these renovations ten years ago, but it couldn’t be helped.”

“Yeah. You can’t renovate a home from the Middle East,” Avery says. There’s no malice in her voice. She’s just stating a fact.

Daddy doesn’t release me.

Avery wanders into the kitchen to look at the cabinets and counters closer. “Craig, you outdid yourself. I love it.” She giggles. “Imagine me buying my home back from my ex-husband.”

I smile. That would be funny.

Andrew joins her, also looking around. “I mean, it’s got everything we’ve been looking for and it’s in our price range. It’s not a bad idea.”

Avery grabs his arm and looks up at him. “Kinda crazy.”

He shrugs and then tips her head back with a finger under her chin and kisses her as if she hangs the moon. Their obvious love is palpable. It calms me considerably. That and the fact that they haven’t judged me. They must assume I’m not just little but take on a very young role since that was the precise point of contention between Daddy and Avery that truly split them up.

Daddy chuckles. “It is pretty coincidental, but hey, I’d love for you to have it if you’re interested. At least I’d know it was in good hands after all the work I’ve done.”

“Do you mind if we look at the rest?” Avery asks.

“Nope. Go ahead. Would you like us to leave or at least step out back? That had been our intention before I saw it was you.”

“Goodness no. You’re fine.” Avery drags her husband down the hallway.

I turn around so that I’m facing Daddy. My heart is pounding. When strangers come to see the house, they’re left to assume a young girl lives here. But Avery and Andrew are about to learn something about me that I don’t share with many people.

Daddy rubs my back, his brows coming together. “You okay, sweetheart? We can leave or go outside if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m okay, I think.” I mean that. I’m stressed but it’s not too bad.

Daddy leads me to the sectional and sits in the corner, pulling me onto his lap. He kisses me as he wraps his arms possessively around me and pats my bottom. “I’m proud of you,” he whispers.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

A few minutes later, Avery and Andrew return. Avery is gushing. “Craig, I just love it. The bathrooms are fantastic. You did such a great job.” They round to our side of the sectional.

“Thank you. I’m happy with how it turned out.” Daddy motions to the couch. “Please. Sit.”

Andrew lowers cautiously in the opposite corner while Avery plops down next to him with far less finesse. More like a tween, which I suppose she is. She’s grinning when she looks at me. “I adore your room. It’s perfect.”

“Thank you,” I manage, my face heating. I wring my hands and look away.

“Please don’t be embarrassed. If you saw my room at our condo, your eyes would bug out of your head.”

Andrew chuckles, his voice deep. “She’s not kidding. It’s like a hurricane. The colors are so bright they hurt my eyes. She has more boy band posters than wall space. And I can’t see the floor for all the discarded clothes and art supplies. No amount of discipline seems to convince her to clean her room.”

Avery rolls her eyes at him, but when he lifts a brow in warning, she squirms and tucks her hands under her butt.

I’m fascinated by their dynamic.

“Would you like to apologize, sassy girl, or would you like to leave here with a bottom so sore that you can’t sit still in the car?”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

He pats her thigh. “I thought so.”

Suddenly, any nervous tension I felt disappears. Avery and I are no different except I’m closer to five and she’s closer to twelve.

Daddy shudders dramatically. “And that, Andrew, is why you’re married to her instead of me,” he jokes. “The two of us may have learned the ropes of age play together, but when Avery took a right turn and headed toward the teen aisle, I couldn’t back up that train fast enough.”

Andrew laughs. “Not gonna lie. It’s challenging.” He pulls his wife in closer to his side and kisses her cheek. “But it’s rewarding too.” He pats Avery on the thigh. “We should go, honey. If you really like this house, we can make them an offer, but we’ll discuss it at home.”

“Of course.” Avery jumps to her feet as Andrew rises next to her.

Daddy stands next, still holding me for a moment before he lets me ease to the floor against him. We follow our guests to the door.

“It was so nice meeting you, Leah,” Avery says.

“You too.”

Andrew shakes Daddy’s hand. “We’ll call you.”

“Sounds good.” Daddy holds me to his front as we watch them walk to their car. As soon as Daddy shuts the door, he shakes his head. “That’s just crazy. What are the chances?”

I stretch my arms and he picks me up so I can wrap my arms and legs around him, putting us face to face. “Very weird, but I’m glad I met her. She’s nice. I was so nervous at first.”

He pats my bottom. “I know you were, sweetheart, but you were perfectly polite and gracious, and I’m glad you’ve met Avery and Andrew too.” He carries me down the hallway and into the master bedroom. The expression on his face is unreadable. His eyes are twinkling with some sort of secret mischief.

He leans over the bed and drops me onto the mattress.

I giggle as I bounce, thinking he must be really pleased with whatever just happened if he wants to have sex the moment they leave.

But he doesn’t start pulling off my clothes. Instead, he reaches for the bedside table and opens the drawer. A moment later, he’s holding out a small jewelry box and smiling from ear to ear.

“Daddy?” I can’t breathe as I sit up, shaking.

“I don’t like floundering for a way to introduce you to people,” he says.

I smile. “You mean as your better half? I thought it was endearing.”

He chuckles. “Well, I’d rather use fiancée or wife if you don’t mind.” He pops open the little box to reveal a stunning pink diamond solitaire.

I gasp. “Oh my God.”

He drops to one knee on the floor next to the bed. “Leah Sherwin, will you marry me?”

I shift my gaze from the ring to his face. He looks so serious and the most nervous I’ve ever seen him.

He clears his throat when I don’t answer him immediately. “I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love another person, sweetheart. I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. I don’t care what that looks like. I love all your personas. I know over time we may shift our dynamic until it looks nothing like it does right now, but I’m going to love you just the same, no matter if you’re my little girl or my equal adult wife. Please say yes.”

I smile so wide it hurts and nod. “Yes.” The word comes out breathy. I’m so stunned and so happy.

Daddy takes the ring out of the box and eases it onto my finger. “Beautiful.”

I stare at it on my hand for a moment. “It really is. Stunning. I love it.” I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and almost knocking him to the floor. “And I love you.”

He comes to his feet, taking me with him before lowering me over the bed and hovering over me. “I love you too, sweetheart. I can’t wait to start this new adventure with you.”

I giggle. “We still have no idea what we’re even going to do with that giant house.”

He shrugs. “We’ll figure it out. No rush. We’ve got time. Whatever we do, it’s going to be amazing.”

“It really is.” I tug him toward me. “Kiss me, Daddy.”

“Where?” he teases as his lips come to my neck. “Here?” He switches to my shoulder. “Here?”

He slides his mouth down, pushes my sweater up, and kisses my tummy. “Here?”

I’m laughing as I pull on his biceps. “Yes. All of those places. But first my mouth please.”

The moment his lips meet mine, I melt into the kiss, into his arms. I know a lot of changes are coming our way, but I’m so happy, and I’m certain we can handle anything. Together.

Want to learn more about Avery and Andrew’s story?! You’re in luck! Rewarding Avery will be included in the 2021 Dirty Daddies Anniversary Anthology! I’m so excited to join the amazing authors in that anthology and hope you enjoy finding out how Avery and Andrew met and follow their path to a rewarding happily ever after.

Coming Spring of 2022: Blossom Ridge. Blossom Ridge is a spin-off series from Surrender featuring Craig and Leah, their staff, and all the Littles and their Daddies who come to visit Blossom Ridge!