Sadie's Little Christmas - Maren Smith Page 0,44

in his lap. Sadie’s heart squeezed in painfully tight.

“Go on,” Nanny J coaxed again, even more softly. “Go get in line so you can tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”

Santa wasn’t real, she wanted to reply.

Daddies weren’t real either, that nettling voice hurtfully added.

Her heart ached.

Derek sure felt real. Last night had felt more than real. It had been beyond wonderful how his hard body had felt, pinning her over the edge of the bed while his cock slid into place between her buttocks, and his husky, fantasy-sparking voice seductively commanded her to bite the pillow before he ‘punished’ her bottom.

Her nipples tightened, her clit throbbed, and she quickly slapped aside the tear that slipped through her lashes before it could fall down her cheek.

She withdrew another step before turning sharply on her heel. Nanny J tried to catch her, but Sadie dodged and ran from the lobby. She didn’t know where she was going. The only important thing was to go in any direction except the nursery and get there as fast as her legs could carry her. She didn’t want to be embarrassed by anyone seeing her cry.

She barely made it out of the lobby before a big arm hooked her around the waist, hauling her backward off her feet against the unyielding wall of a muscular chest.

“Let me go! Let go!” She kicked, clawing to get free of the tight grip, only to be drawn in even tighter when Moses wrapped his other arm around her. His hand touched her face, trying to pull her into his comforting shoulder, but she wasn’t having any of it. “I want to go!”

Against her will, her voice was going higher and higher in pitch, and that only frustrated her all the more. Littles did that, but she didn’t want to be a Little!

Did she?

From somewhere behind them, a door opened, releasing a disappointed chorus of “Santa, don’t go!”

“Santa just needs to check on his reindeer.” Already the door was swinging shut even as Nanny J announced, “Who wants to decorate cookies until he gets back?”

Littles cheered, the sound already muffling behind the closing of the door.

“I’ve got her,” Derek said, and Sadie wilted as Moses’s strong arm dutifully released her into his equally unyielding embrace instead.

“I’m a reindeer?” For some reason, that struck her funny, but what started out as weak laughter very quickly dissolved into tears. “I’m sorry,” she wept, unable to stop it from happening or hiding from it. Once upon a time, she’d been the Queen of Silent Crying, but not right now. She was loud, she was obvious, and she couldn’t make herself get it under control, no matter how hard she tried.

Turning her around, Derek wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to his fancy Santa Claus dressed chest. The costume was velvety-soft and perfect for snuggling. She didn’t want to, but the minute her cheek was against it, she flung her arms around him and simply melted into him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured against her hair.

It was amazing how quickly those two words said in his tender voice could cut through the wave of rising tears, quelling their need to continue welling.

She sniffled, her hitching breaths now easing and the tears drying up.

“I don’t want to call you Daddy right now, okay?” she begged. “Just... just not right now. O-Okay?”

“Yes,” he assured, one big hand rubbing her back. “Is it all right if I still call you ‘baby girl,’ or would you rather I not?”

Whatever broken tumultuous thing inside her had sparked this sudden burst of unhappiness eased just for his having asked. The knots inside her weakened, loosening, and she nodded.

“It’s okay.”

He loosened his grip on her, leaning back just far enough to cup her chin in his hand. He searched her gaze a moment before seeming to find what he was looking for and nodded.

“Come on.”

Taking her hand, he led her down the hall to a nearby room. It had a changeable occupied sign on the wall by the door, which he promptly flicked to ‘occupied,’ then took her inside.

It was a very comfortable looking room, exactly what she had come to expect from Rawhide Ranch. In every respect, it reminded her of a cross between a therapist’s office with its black leather chaise, a classroom with the teacher’s desk not far from it, and Nanny J’s Nursery with the giant dollhouse in the corner, a smattering of colorful kids’ books in a short bookcase against the wall, and a round