Nurturing Britney (Surrender Book 7) Becca Jameson (ebook reader for comics TXT) 📖

I’m fairly certain my heart has stopped beating. I don’t want to disrupt her. I want to watch.

Her dress is flowing around her, the hem barely touching the floor. It’s a soft cotton material, and it was a risky choice for today. I wasn’t sure how she would react. It’s younger. But she seemed pleased when she came out of her bedroom, so I was relieved.

The sleeves are short but poufy, gathering around her biceps. Youthful. The length is inches below her bottom. I left her lavender panties from the same pack as yesterday’s with a white bow at the belly button. I watched her squirm and tug on the front panel of the dress while she ate breakfast, knowing that it will take time for her to adjust to not wearing a bra.

There’s something about women and bras. I love how self-conscious a woman can become simply by leaving the darn confining garment off. I personally like to have easy access to my submissive’s tits, but I also enjoy the way they find themselves more sensitive when their nipples aren’t covered. Apparently, the constant movement of any fabric over a woman’s nipples goes a long way toward heightening their arousal.

I lean against the door frame while Britney explains to her stuffed animal that no she may not have another cookie. It’s too close to dinner. My smile is a mile wide.

I can’t stand here eavesdropping forever though. I’m going to have to break up the party. Finally, I force myself to clear my throat. “Hey, sweetie, whatcha doin’?” I step farther into the room.

Britney spins her upper body around. When she spots me, she jumps to her feet. Her face is flushed and she backs up to the wall, nearly stepping on her tea set.

“Sorry, sweet girl, I didn’t mean to startle you.” I stop my approach, though what I really want to do is pull her into my arms and inhale her scent.

She lowers her gaze and then silently bends down and starts putting the tea set back in its padded box.

I’m not sure why she’s so quiet, so I continue until I’m next to her, and then I squat down beside her and set a hand on her back. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

She shakes her head as she hurries to put the dishes away, finally closing the box and then snatching her bunny and tossing her on the bed. She rushes across the room and puts the box containing the tea set on the dresser. She hesitates and then runs into the bathroom and shuts the door.

She hasn’t said a single word.

I rise to my feet and take a deep breath as I wait. I need a shower. It’s been a long day. I’m frustrated from being no closer to making Britney safe than I was when I met her. I don’t want to worry her with the details, which only makes my pent-up frustration worse.

But I’m not going anywhere until I deal with whatever spooked Britney. I wish I could go back five minutes in time and handle my entrance better. The problem is that I’m not quite sure what she’s thinking or what she needed from me.

After five minutes with not a single noise in the bathroom, I knock on the door. “Britney? Sweetie? You okay?”

“I just need a few minutes.”

I don’t like the tone of her voice. “Sweetie, please open the door.”

There’s no response.

I rub my forehead, trying to decide how to proceed. We’re on the cusp of something huge here. I fully intend to talk to her about age play tonight, and now this. I’m not certain what the best course of action is, but I decide to go full Daddy on her. “Britney,” I demand, “open the door.”

I hear her shuffling and then the knob turns.

I have to push the door open farther, but at least I can see her now. She’s standing there with her arms folded in front of her, her fists clenched together against her mouth.

I reach out and stroke my hand down the back of her head and then pull her closer until I have her in my arms. She’s shaking and she won’t lift her face.

“Sweetie, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. Talk to me.”

She shakes her head.

I kiss the top of her head, inhaling the powder scent of her conditioner.

When she still gives me no response, I take her hands and pull them from her face. “Come.” I keep one arm wrapped around her and lead her from the bedroom and down the hall toward the living room. I need to hold her. I need her in my lap so that I can face her and get her to talk to me.

I sit in one of the leather armchairs and pull her into my lap. She’s barefoot, and she draws her knees up and sets her little feet between my legs. She rocks forward so that her chin is on her knees, her hands fisted at the sides of her face. Her hair is once again a curtain that blocks out the world.

I gather the long locks and drape them over her shoulder and then I tug her closest hand down and tip her chin toward me. “Look at me, sweetie.”

She slowly meets my gaze. Her eyes are watery. “I’m embarrassed.”

I frown. “About what?”

“I didn’t realize how late it was and you caught me playing on the floor like a small child. I feel ridiculous.”

“Ahhh.” Now I get it. Everything finally makes more sense, although I’m slightly shocked that this is the first moment that has caused her to realize what she’s been doing for days.

I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and stroke her cheek. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying certain aspects of childhood. I bought you the tea set, sweetie. I intended for you to use it.”

Her eyes widen. “Surely, it was a trinket you expected me to put on a shelf