One Cup of Daddy and a Dash of Love - Victoria Sue Page 0,57

Daddy/little relationship.

That’s what he’d said. Daddy said his ex had hated him for picking out his clothes, but in all honesty, that was Dash’s idea of heaven. Not that he couldn’t get his own clothes, but to have that sort of attention from another person was completely amazing and very addictive.

One person being dependent on the other.

He was dependent on Daddy, completely. And the worry he had of being too clingy, too needy, started to fade away.

Dash glanced at Daddy, who was watching him carefully. “I want to think about the diapers.” He handled them, and they were very soft. The thought of Daddy putting them on him was intensely erotic, but he wasn’t sure about actually using them. He didn’t think he could do that.

“That’s absolutely fine,” Daddy confirmed. Dash glanced back at him, but he was smiling, so he must mean it. But then he hadn’t lied to Dash about anything, so he had no need not to trust him.

“Why don’t you unpack everything. The cups need washing. I’m going to put the big box under the stairs for now.” He meant the diapers. Dash nodded.

“I was going to wash Gran’s baking things as well.”

“That’s a good idea. Do you need any help?”

Dash shook his head. He wanted some quiet time to process everything, and he thought Daddy understood. Daddy smiled and picked up his laptop. “Don’t lift anything too heavy,” he cautioned.

Dash smiled happily that Daddy was letting him do this. He took the sippy cup and plates into the kitchen and ran some hot water. He knew both Abigail and Charlie had jobs at the same time as being littles. It wasn’t some deficiency that forced them to be little, it was a choice. They enjoyed it. He squirted some dish soap in the bowl. He’d worried that his anxiety had made him want to be a little, and while some of that may be true, he thought his body just responded to Daddy in that way. It was like they balanced each other out.

Maybe he should stop fretting about it? Daddy said he wanted it, and Dash certainly did. Being little meant he didn’t have to worry about a thing because Daddy would take care of him, and he loved that. He craved it.

He washed the two identical plates, bowls, and sippy cups and dried them carefully. There was a small cupboard that had barely anything in next to the glasses, and he could put them in there.

He glanced at the clock. Not quite lunchtime. Maybe he could unpack his gran’s box of baking equipment and wash that and put it all away? Maybe Gran’s baking things would be useful in the store? He liked the idea of helping Ellie, and he knew Gran would be thrilled at them being used. Dash got the box from the cupboard and unpacked it slowly. He loved the old-fashioned weighing scales with the little weights that went on them, and the set of three cookie presses that came out every Christmas. After taking a breath for courage, he opened the folder with some cuttings inside of different recipes Gran had found, and he smiled fondly at the one for banana surprise that Gran made with plums because that was what she had. She used to joke the surprise was it didn’t contain bananas. He flicked through the recipes and saw some tucked in a clear plastic sleeve at the back. Gran must have meant to file those and hadn’t gotten around to it. He carefully pulled them out, intending to file them for her, but just as he did so, a small black book slipped out from the middle onto the counter. In fact, another inch over and it would have landed in the soapy water. He quickly picked it up and opened the first page, hoping it was some sort of recipe book like the one Jensen had of Mimi’s.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Dash stared at the old-fashioned passbook savings account and the rows of first handwritten, then machine entries that went back exactly nineteen years, and the name on the account. His and Gran’s.

He nearly dropped it in the water a second time when he saw the last updated interest entry three months before Gran had died.

Sixty-seven thousand dollars.

He had sixty-seven thousand dollars.

He could have paid the mortgage. He could have saved the house from being sold. Feeling nauseated, he quickly put everything back in the envelope and slipped the folder in the cupboard between