Author: Stone, Measha
Date: 2019-08-13
Publisher: Black Heart Publications

Until Daddy

Dark Lace Series

Measha Stone

Copyright © 2019 by Measha Stone

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

VALOR

Also by Measha Stone

Chapter 1

The man with the devilish grin, stern features, and handsome swagger walked straight for them. Carissa tried to ignore him. Surely, he was headed elsewhere. Maybe to the group of giggling women standing behind herself and Jade.

“There’s a lot of people here.” Jade’s voice broke into Carissa’s thoughts.

The man walking toward them paused momentarily to talk with a younger guy wearing a headset. Did his eyes flick in her direction while he continued the conversation?

“It’s getting hot, too.” Jade fanned herself.

Carissa needed to concentrate. She and Jade had ventured to the Mistletoe Madness party together to give each other support. Mostly, Carissa wanted to support Jade as she finally took a step into the world of BDSM clubs, and maybe finally owned up to everything she really wanted out of a relationship. So her attention couldn’t be put on the man stalking toward them again, weaving in and out of the crowd, looking more than determined. Possessive.

“It will cool off once they open the playrooms.” Carissa didn’t look at her friend while talking. How could she when his eyes were on her, directing her to keep contact with him.

This was ridiculous. Even if he was headed for her, it wouldn’t matter. Most men who approached her at the clubs didn’t stick around very long once she started to go through her kink list.

“What’s that?” Jade pulled on Carissa’s arm and pointed toward the large lounge area of the greeting room.

“It’s the bar, Jade.” She turned to face her friend who clearly felt on edge having to wait to get into the playrooms. “Relax. Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll mingle. You’ll find a nice guy to chat with, and, if you’re lucky, you’ll get yourself bent over one of the spanking benches and have that little public-play cherry of yours popped.”

“You say that as though it’s so easy.” Jade screwed her face up with doubt and let out a long sigh. “Fine. You’re right. I need to relax. Whatever happens will happen, right?”

“Exactly. Never think you have the night planned out, as you’ll most often find it’s out of your control anyway”,” a deep voice answered as Carissa opened her mouth to say something in a similar vein.

She didn’t need to turn around to know who spoke the words, but she did anyway. Right there, a mere six inches from her, stood the devil himself. Or at least his cousin. He seemed bigger and firmer than she imagined the devil would look. The prince of the underworld probably held more of a sinister appearance: angry eyes, bulging muscles ready to rip his subjects apart. This man stood much taller than she, and built well enough from what she could tell, but nothing in his sculpted features showed anything but control. No anger, no pompous arrogance, just confidence and pure dominance.

“Well, that may be true.” Jade didn’t seem the slightest bit affected by him.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He inclined his head, giving Carissa a soft smile but making no move to actually exit the conversation.

“Oh, it’s all right.” She took a small step back, though with the crush of people waiting to be allowed into the playrooms, she bumped into another person and had to apologize to them.

“It’s really crowded here.” He scanned the crowd. “Almost too much so.” His lips flattened together. “I need to speak to someone.” With an annoyed glance around the room, he placed his hands on her shoulders.

She should shove him away. But his hands, the warm touch of his skin against her body sent a shiver down her spine. A feeling more comforting than irritating.

“The lounge isn’t as packed. Will you go sit at a table for me, and I’ll meet you over there?” His eyes were back on her; the smile had returned as well.

“I don’t—”

“I’m Jamison Croft. When you order a drink, tell the bartender to put it on my tab. Unless you had other plans?” His left eyebrow arched.

“No—but I came with my friend, and I think I should stay with her.”

“Oh. Of course.” His gaze swept over to Jade then back again.

“It’s fine, Carissa,” Jade said. “I deal with my nerves better on my own anyway.”

Carissa nibbled her lower lip. She didn’t know him, and it was a little arrogant of him to walk up to her and claim her. Yet that little sensor inside her that warned her when a douchebag approached remained quiet.

“I really do need to get this crowd issue taken care of. If you’d like to have a drink with me, I’ll look for you over in the lounge.” He looked around once more and gave her shoulders a little squeeze.

Before he walked off again, he leaned down and whispered. “I’d prefer you didn’t have any liquor.”

She felt her brow crinkle. Presumptuous to boot!

“It’s of course up to you. I hope you’ll be there.” He gave her another squeeze and pushed through the crowd, heading toward what seemed to be the main offices of the club.

Once he disappeared into the offices, her feet moved. She mumbled to Jade she’d be at the lounge, but with the crowd of people and music starting up, she doubted Jade heard her.

The bartender scooped up an empty glass and took it behind the bar as Carissa stepped up.

“How can I help you?” Another handsome man smiled at her. Was it a requirement for the club? Though she’d met the bartender a few days back, when she’d taken it upon herself to check out the club before bringing Jade.

“A Shirley Temple, please.” Jamison had said to put it on his tab, but she pulled out a few bills from her small clutch and handed them over.

“Coming right up.” He went about making the non-alcoholic drink while she watched. She’d met men at the clubs before. Almost every kinky boyfriend she’d had she’d run into at a club, but this meeting felt different.

Shaking her head, she cleared her mind of any fanciful notions. Her type of relationship wouldn’t last long. They never did. And not just hers, but all the kink relationships she’d seen barely made it out of the gate before the shine wore off.

“Here you go. And here’s your money. Jamison said it’s on him and to go sit at the far table in the corner.”

She plucked the bills from his outstretched hand and looked over her shoulder. She noticed Jamison right away. His eyes made contact with hers, and he smiled, waving his little walkie—talkie in the air and making a pointing gesture. Where was her anger at his behavior?

“Thanks,” she mumbled to the bartender and found the table Jamison had mentioned.

He’d been right. The lounge wasn’t crowded at all. The sign hanging on the wall stating that in order to sit at a table you needed to have purchased a drink probably had something to do with it.

After only a few sips in, Jamison arrived, wearing a wide grin. He handed the walkie—talkie over to the waitress who passed by and took his seat across from her.

“A Shirley Temple.” He nodded at her glass with another approving grin. “Good choice.”

“Did you want to order a drink?” She pointed at the bar when he leaned back and unbuttoned his jacket.

“Not right now. I already had one, and I don’t overindulge…” His sentence fell off into the rumblings of the crowd starting to move.

“They opened the doors.” She looked over his shoulder, trying to find Jade.

“Yes. We were supposed to wait a bit longer, but the crowd was too tight in the waiting area, so I had them open early.”

“You?” She twisted her neck. Where had Jade gone off to?

“Yes—” he reached over and captured her hand in his. “If you’re looking for Jade, don’t worry about her. Garrick is planning to take care of her tonight, so you are off the clock.”

Her eyes snapped back to him. “Garrick? You know Garrick?” Garrick and Jade had been close friends since near childhood. Jade wouldn’t like running into him, and how did Jamison know him?

“He and I do business together.”

Apparently, he read minds as well as owned kinky nightclubs.

She looked at him again, closer this time. “I think I’ve heard him mention you.”

“I was a little surprised Jade didn’t recognize me. We’ve met a few times,” he said.

“She’s a little preoccupied—did you say Garrick is here?” She started to stand, but Jamison tugged her back down into her seat.

“Yes. And you’ll stay out of it.”

And the twist in her chest began. “Oh, I will? And who exactly do you think you are to go ordering me about?”

The corner of his mouth twisted up, and his eyes sparkled with glee.

“Did he send you to babysit me?” Garrick would do something like that if he wanted to get Jade alone. She’d always known he was into kink, little things he said and did, but she’d never broached the subject with him.

“Do you need a babysitter?”

The way he said the words, the little bit of levity mixed with the heaviness of curiosity made her gulp back her initial irritation. His eyes narrowed in on her, as though taking stock of her reaction to his question, and if the slight heat of her cheeks was any indication—she had a full blush starting to take over.

“I don’t need anything.” She gave her standard response when putting up the brick wall, but even she could hear the weakness in her tone.

He nodded and gave a chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure you need a few things.”

“Why is Garrick here?”

“Why wouldn’t he be? He’s part-owner, like myself.”

Garrick owned several properties and shares in different businesses, but she’d never heard him speak about Dark Lace before.

“I’m not going to answer any of your questions about Garrick. You’ll have to ask him yourself. What I am going to do”—his thumb caressed her palm—“is spend as much time with you tonight as you’re okay with.”

She swallowed. How could a finger cause so much excitement to run through her body?

“Fair enough, I suppose. I’ll ask him tomorrow.” She pulled back, breaking the contact with him so her mind could focus more easily on the conversation. Picking up her glass, she took a sip of her Shirley Temple.

“There’s a room back there where I generally like to play.” He looked over his shoulder then back at her.

“You want to play?” Of course, he did. It was a fucking club, after all, and exactly why she’d shown up for the party to begin with.

He gave another laugh. “If you’re up for it. But we have to finish our talk first.”

“Okay.” She shrugged and took another sip of her drink. Negotiations weren’t foreign to her and meant he was a serious player. No newbie.

“I typically play in the nursery.” The sentence dropped on the table like a bag of oranges. Her heart instantly picked up speed, and her breath hitched.

“The nursery?” She’d seen a sign for the room the last time she’d been at the club but hadn’t gone inside. It had been a quick visit, more to scope out the place.

He folded his hands on the table and gave a slow nod. “Yes.”

“You’re into age play?” She tried not to sound judgmental, or hopeful. Her desires were somewhere in that general area of play, but most men who were into that wanted more than she could give them.

“A bit, not as seriously as most. If we play tonight, it will be in that room. Are you okay with that?”

Not as seriously as most? Exactly how she described it to men she talked with online or when she bumped into them in the clubs, to the few she found interested in her particular brand of kink.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think I’ll start carrying around my list of limits. It would make this part less awkward.”

He laughed. “It doesn’t have to be awkward. If we play, I won’t go any further than a bare-bottom spanking. No fucking, but if you’re a good girl, I may be nice enough to give you an orgasm. That’s all. So, no need for laundry lists of limits and wants.”

A simple scene?

“You don’t want to fuck me?” She clamped her mouth shut after asking that question.

He laughed again. “Oh, little girl, I want to do way more than that, but we just met, and that’s more of a second or third date sort of question.”

Little girl. Fuck, how that phrase made her panties wet.

“You’ve played a lot, then?” She supposed she should ask a few questions.

“Plenty. Yes. You?”

“Some.” Not as much as she’d liked. She held no fairytale notions about what happened in kink relationships, so she kept most of her playtime short.

“Hmm.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Would you like to play tonight? In the nursery?”

Her throat dried, and she’d just swallowed the last of her drink.

“Sure.” She did her best to sound aloof, but something in his eyes told her he could see her excitement.

“Excellent. Then let’s have at it.” He stood and held out his hand.

She slipped her fingers into his palm and, with gentleness that seemed contrary to the strength of his build, he held onto her and helped her from the chair. They walked from the lounge and through the nearly empty waiting area before heading down the hallway toward the nursery room.

Right outside the room, he spun her and pushed her against the wall, bringing his face to hers, their noses touching lightly.

“Once we are in there, if you want me to slow down, you’ll use the color system. Yellow for slow and red for stop. While I’m spanking you, I won’t stop just because you say stop. If you don’t use your colors, I will not stop. Do you understand that?”

The intensity of his rounded eyes and his firm tone sent her heart pattering faster against her ribcage. This man would not be deterred; this man had his dominance on a solid.

Fuck

“Yeah.”

He pinched her hip. “No, little girl, you won’t address me with yeah, you will answer with a yes, sir or yes, Daddy. Is that clear?”

She swallowed. His lips were close, in kissing range, and they looked so warm, so plush and delicious. But he was talking, and she needed to pay attention.

“Yes, sir.” She couldn’t call him the other thing. Not yet. Not when they were being so casual.

He nodded and pulled back. “Good, then. Let’s go.”

Gripping her hand again he pulled her into the nursery.

No real surprises inside. A few toddler beds, two cribs against the wall. A rack with outfits stood in the far corner. In another corner stood a woman with pigtails holding up a dress, her bright red bottom displayed to the room. Her daddy stood beside her; his arms folded across his chest as he scolded her. “We were supposed to have a nice evening, and you had to go and throw a fit!”

Carissa looked up at Jamison as he pulled them to a stop beside an arm chair.

“Looks like someone got herself a bad-girl spanking,” he whispered into her ear then smoothed her hair away from her face. “You don’t want one of those, I promise you.”

She’d take his word for it; though she doubted she wanted to find out for sure.

He let go of her hand to remove his suit jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. Once he sat with his large legs spread, he pulled her to stand between them.

“Now, tell me. How much does this play into your daily life?” He waved his hand, indicating the room as a whole.

“Not very much, I guess. I’ve never had a…well, been with anyone long enough to really incorporate some of this…but”—her eyes widened at the changing table where a daddy diapered his baby girl, and she shook her head—“not that.” She pointed to the couple.

“Don’t point.” He wrapped his hand around her finger and pushed her hand to her side. “I’m glad to hear that. Much of this is more than I enjoy myself. But giving a well-deserved spanking to a girl is right up my alley.”

She swallowed again and looked at his hands.

“Not backing out, are you?” he chuckled. “I promise, they aren’t registered as lethal weapons or anything like that.” He splayed his hands out.

“No.” She shook her head and played with her fingers.

He clasped her hands to stop the fidgeting. “Remember your colors. Now, lie over my lap. I think we can have the rest of this discussion over my knee.”

Her pussy clenched, her clit swelled at his words. What the hell would happen when he touched her?

She managed to get over his lap without making a fool of herself, and he helped settle her backside right where he wanted it. Her cheeks warmed with his hand resting on the curve of her ass.

“How many spankings have you received for being a bad girl, Carissa?” he asked, running his hand in a large circle over both her cheeks.

Bad girl? Weren’t they having fun?

“Um.”

His hand raised and crashed down onto her bottom, making her jolt from the surprise of the impact.

“How many bad-girl spankings have you gotten? I’d like an answer please.”

“Three!” she answered quickly when his hand disappeared from her bottom again. The first swat had left warmth behind, and she anticipated the next to be stronger if she displeased him.

He smacked her bottom again, a bit softer, and rubbed away the sting afterward. “Only three?” He tsked.

Discipline hadn’t been in the forefront of any of her previous boyfriends’ minds. They liked the slap-and-tickle game but having to actually mete out a punishment didn’t excite them.

“Yes, sir.” She gripped the chair leg after the third swat to her backside.

He chuckled, running his hand up and down her exposed thighs. His fingers barely slid under the hem of her dress, and she mentally willed him to slide up farther.

“Either you’re a very good girl, or you’ve been overindulged.” His palm lifted from her thighs and peppered her ass with half a dozen swats. Not overly harsh, but with enough sting to satisfy her and make her wiggle on his lap.

“Oh!” He pinched her thigh, and she swung her hand back to protect her sensitive flesh.

“No, no. None of that, or I’ll have to hold your arm for you and give you a naughty spanking. You don’t want one of those already, do you?”

His voice reminded her of silken chocolate, so smooth and decadent. Her body responded to it as well. Her clit brushed his leg as she wiggled beneath the spanks and, if she didn’t control herself, she would start humping his knee like a wild beast in heat.

“No, no, sir.” She gripped his pant leg as the spanking continued. A varied array of strong and soft swats spread out across both cheeks. He knew exactly how hard to spank in one area before moving to another. Warmth blossomed over her bottom, stealing her focus from anything else going on in the room. As far as her mind was concerned, it was only her and Jamison in the room.

“Now, that’s a good warmup.” He patted her backside, and she looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes.

Warm up?

“You didn’t think that was the end of it, did you, little girl?” He winked at her.

His hands, now warm from the delivery of the spanking, slid under her skirt and pushed it up over her hips, revealing her naked bottom. The thong she’d put on had been cute, practical with the tightness of the skirt so as not to show panty lines. Lots of guys loved a sexy thong, but the tsk of his tongue suggested he was not among them.

“A thong.” He pulled up the string nestled between her cheeks and let it snap back into place. “Little girls shouldn’t wear such clothing.” He patted her right butt cheek. “Your bottom is already a pretty pink.” His hands roamed again over her cheeks while his free hand rested on her back. “I think my little girl can take a bit more from me tonight. What do you think?”

His little girl? She didn’t hate the sound of that.

“Yes…sir.” The word, the title that would make the moment that much more perfect stayed lodged in her throat.

When his hand made contact with her bare bottom, she jumped, the sting much sharper than before. Despite it being December in Chicago, she’d worn a thin dress. It offered little protection. His hard hand on her exposed bottom shouldn’t feel much harder than with the flimsy material protecting her. Another swat, and she jumped again. More heat spread, and he continued to rain down fire across her bottom.

She wiggled and kicked her ankles, both of which he stilled by hugging her closer to his body and wrapping one leg around both of hers.

“Oh! Ow!” She covered her bottom momentarily but quickly moved her hand out of the way, sure he wouldn’t hesitate to go harder on her if he felt the need.

As much as her bottom throbbed, her clit reacted in kind. The wiggling only made her need worse, and the pressure built in her lower belly as she ached for release.

“That’s a good girl. Almost finished.” He dragged his nails across her sore backside, making her hiss.

“Yes, sir.” The tingling and soaring sensation of each smartly delivered smack coursed through her body, lifting her up onto a new plane of pleasure.

“There we are.” He dug his nails into her again, and she sighed, resting her head against his calf. “You did so good. And good girls get very good rewards.” He moved his leg from trapping her and pushed her outer thigh away. “Open your legs for me, Carissa. Let me get to your sweetness. You need a release and have earned it.”

She obeyed, spreading her legs, even lifting her hips from his lap to give him better access. He didn’t pull her thong aside, but rather slid his fingers beneath the thin, wet material.

“So wet for me.” With his free hand, he ran up the length of her back and sank his fingers into her hair, fisting it and pulling back until she arched upward. “Now, keep being a good girl and fuck my fingers. Come on my lap, with your bright red ass staring up at me.” He plunged two fingers into her passageway, and she groaned with the pleasure of it.

She planted her toes on the ground and did exactly as he instructed. His fingers fucked her while she pushed against him. When a finger brushed her clit, she groaned and rode his lap even harder.

“Oh! Oh god!” She gripped his leg.

“That’s my good girl. Come for me. Come hard.” He tugged her hair, and the little bit of extra pressure, the tiniest flash of pain, and she skyrocketed over the edge where she’d been teetering. She screamed out her release, rocking harder against his thighs and riding every severe pulsation of her orgasm until finally everything stilled. Her breath settled, and her orgasm faded silently, leaving her in a haze of genuine softness.

Quietly, Jamison helped rearrange her clothing and to get onto her feet. He pulled her back into his lap and pushed her head against his chest, letting her take more time to come back to earth.

“You are more than I expected,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to her head. He smelled of musky aftershave. She snuggled farther into his neck. “Better than I could have wished for.” He kissed her again.

He sounded pleased, but she hadn’t given him his release. He made no move to request one either; he simply held her while she found herself again.

She felt so comfortable, so at home snuggling into his arms. Reality sank in, though, and she realized she needed to get home. She had an early shift, so she had to get away before the comfort and level of intimacy made her want things that weren’t possible.

She needed to get away from Jamison. As far away as possible.

Chapter 2

The lights in the main dungeon dimmed as the spotlights illuminated the stage. The evening’s main event would start any moment—a bondage demonstration. Jamison Croft, one of the owners of Dark Lace, leaned back in his chair and watched the screen.

He searched the crowd, knowing he’d find her. She’d be there. She had shown up a handful of times since their playtime at the Mistletoe Madness dungeon party nearly two weeks ago. Each time he saw her, she pressed herself into a crowd, either watching one of the intense scenes in the room or inching closer to the room they’d played in before she practically ran away from it. Was she suddenly ashamed of her desire to play in the nursery, or was she nervous she’d see him inside?

The nursery. How he hated that name. He’d begged the board to change it to something—anything—else, but he’d been outvoted. A small room off the main dungeon that held a variety of age play equipment. Everything from changing tables to toddler beds, and even one corner devoted to middles.

Carissa didn’t play by those labels though. One of the many reason’s he’d felt so drawn to her that night.

That damn night. It had started out perfectly fine. They met, they talked, they laughed, and then they played. Nothing serious. A short spanking. A taste of what they both wanted. She hadn’t played coy, and when he walked her over to the nursery, she’d been more than willing to enter. He had noticed that about her, too, the innocent way she glanced over at the age-play room.

What went wrong after the spanking, he had no fucking clue. He’d asked for her number, and she had given it freely. Then nothing. Not a single response to any message or voicemail in over a week. He didn’t play that way. When he scened with a sub, he damn well wanted to be sure they were okay the next day. He had been clear on that subject. Her ignoring him denied them both the necessary after-care. Hell, it denied him his peace of mind.

“Okay, now you’re stalking her.” Grant’s voice jolted Jamison from his thoughts.

“I am not,” he denied and turned away from the computer screen.

Grant laughed and kicked the door to the office closed. “Right. Except I can see her right there on your screen. The same chick you’ve been watching for the past week.”

Jamison ignored Grant.

“When are you coming in to get some work done? Maybe go through that massive pile of applications on your desk, or did you want to check out the security footage with me?” Jamison pointed to the messiest of the three desks in the small office. Other offices were being used for storage until alternative arrangements were made, so the three partners who worked the business had agreed to share space for the time being.

Grant shook his head. “Would it make your ego feel better if I told you she’s asked about you?”

Jamison wouldn’t admit it, but it would. “She did?” He shifted in his seat, suddenly anxious to start asking questions and digging for more information about what she’d said, and how she’d looked when she said it. But he managed to control his reaction and not go off like some lovesick puppy.

“Yeah. Steven told me she’s asked if you were here the last three times she came. And when he said no, she looked a hell of a lot more disappointed than relieved.”

“I’ve been here every time-" Jamison caught himself before he revealed too much excitement.

But it was too late. Grant laughed. “He didn’t know you knew her.”

“He could have told me.” Jamison turned back to the screen. Bingo. She hid in the back of the group while peering intently over a shorter girl’s shoulder. Bondage wasn’t her thing, from what she’d told him. What had her so enthralled?

His chest tightened, and he inched closer to the screen, needing to see her more clearly.

He moved his gaze to the corner of the screen where an obvious daddy and his little girl were in the middle of a punishment. The girl’s pigtails swung across the floor as she squirmed over her daddy’s lap, while his open palm struck her bare bottom over and over again. The fierceness of his scowl and his narrowed eyes explained plenty. That little girl had landed herself some trouble and gained an avid spectator. Carissa’s eyes were wide, and the tip of her tongue rested on her upper lip.

Maybe he’d spank her for being nosy. He grinned with the mental vision of it, and his mouth curved downward.

If she’d return his fucking calls.

“Why don’t you go out there and talk if you have it this bad for her?” Grant asked as he picked up a small stack of applications from his desk.

“I don’t have it bad for anyone. He shot his partner a quick look of irritation before his eyes went back to Carissa. “What, are you in high school?” Jamison watched Carissa’s reaction to the spanking being dished out while he berated his friend.

“Here’s what I see.” Grant dropped the papers on his desk and strode over to Jamison’s, leaning to jam a finger at the monitor. “That girl has you twisting in the wind. If you want to talk to her, go talk to her. Tell her what bullshit it’s been, her ignoring you. If she wasn’t interested, she could open her damn mouth and say so. Or, at least, tap a few fucking words into her phone.” When he wasn’t handling the background checks for new members and employees of the dungeon, Grant worked on the Chicago Police force. Being attentive to details, like someone’s reactions, came with the job.

Grant was right. Jamison knew it, and the urge to barge out onto the dungeon floor and have that conversation with her burned hotter with the encouragement. Yet, he still didn’t move.

“Girls fucking hate it when guys do this shit to them, yet here she is pulling the same crap.” Grant slapped Jamison on the back and returned to his desk. “Or, you know, keep staring at her through the security cameras like a creep. Whatever floats your boat.” He flashed Jamison a white-toothed grin and grabbed the pile of papers from his desk and headed toward the door. “I’m gonna run through these on my break tonight. I have a late shift at the precinct.”

“It’s not creepy.” Jamison said, but he clicked the program off and opened his email. “Have a good shift.”

Grant shook his head. “See you tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have your spine back by then. I’ve never seen you so cautious with a girl before.”

“Well, this one’s different.” He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back.

Grant shook his head with sigh. “They’re all the same, Jamison. A girl is a girl is a girl.”

“Such a fucking romantic.” Jamison laughed.

Grant grunted, threw him a grin and headed out, leaving Jamison with the strong temptation to turn the security program back on and check on Carissa. The ring of his cell phone saved him from his own weakness.

His father. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the call.

“Jamison. Good I caught you. I have an opportunity you’re not going to want to miss.” His father always had an opportunity not to be passed on.

“I’m sort of in the middle of a project at the moment, and Garrick and I are working on a deal with a condo complex. I’m not sure I can fit in anything else right now.” Even after five years of trying to get out from under his father’s corporate thumb, the struggle never ceased.

“That’s fine. This is huge. Your little projects with Garrick won’t get in the way at all.” Little projects.

Jamison closed his eyes for a moment. Arguing that his company may not be a corporate glomerate like his father’s, but he and Garrick were doing just fine, wouldn’t get him anywhere, and would only keep him on the phone longer with his father.

“Come over, and we’ll review the details.”

Jamison clicked the security screen open again in time to see Carissa walking toward the lockers. The demonstration had finished, and the girl who’d been thoroughly punished stood facing a wall with her nose pressed firmly against it.

“Not tonight. I’ll look at my calendar and have my secretary schedule something.”

“Of course. I have dinner plans myself this evening. But don’t wait too long, Jamison.” The phone clicked, signaling his father had disconnected the call.

Jamison didn’t give him another thought. Whatever he wanted would wait, at least until his father’s patience ran out, then he would track him down.

He switched the screen to the parking lot and spotted Carissa. She stepped into a cab, and Jamison scribbled down the license plate and noted the time.

“Shit. I am getting creepy.” He sighed and dropped his pen to the desk then flipped off his monitor.

He needed to forget her. If she wanted nothing to do with him, why should he waste any more time thinking about her, worrying she’d find someone who wouldn’t treat her right—wouldn’t give her what she really craved.

Yes. Carissa McAllister, your message has been received.

Chapter 3

Carissa McAllister stepped out of the cab and joined the crowd of people waiting to gain entrance to Dark Lace. She let out a long breath.

She could do this. Fear didn’t twist her stomach into knots. Anticipation. Yes, something close to exhilaration. Not fear for what might happen if she ran into him.

Because she could handle running into Jamison. She would simply ignore his presence. If he even showed up.

She sure as hell wasn’t nervous either. Nerves were reserved for men she had a fighting chance at winning and keeping. They were not to be wasted on those obviously as much out of her league as her social class. Not to mention their shared kink. Just another sign to stay away.

Besides, it was New Year’s Eve. The odds he even considered attending the New Year’s Eve party at Dark Lace were impossibly slim. The man owned more property within the city limits than she ever would in her lifetime. Surely, he had somewhere much more sophisticated to be at the stroke of midnight.

But she wasn’t going to imagine him in a tuxedo walking through a ballroom full of gorgeous women falling at his feet. No, she was not going to do that. Even if he probably looked killer in the perfectly tailored suit, showing off his broad shoulders, his muscular physique. His dark hair would be styled casually, pushed off to the side of his forehead, which would expose his dark-chocolate-colored eyes. He’d smile with his thick lips at the ladies vying for his attention. Lips that could, no- did, make her body tingle just from the memory of their touch.

But she wasn’t thinking about that.

She moved up in line, taking out the small membership card to show the bouncer once she made it in the front door.

“Hey, Carissa!” Steven greeted her with a wide grin. The darkness of the front hall didn’t hide his handsome features. Chiseled jaw, square shoulders. He must have stepped right out of one of the historical romance novels she used to read in college.

“Hi, Steven.” She retrieved her membership card from him. Obviously, she’d spent more time at the club since her first visit right before Christmas than she thought. When a bouncer knows your first name and barely looks at your membership card, it’s a sign you’ve been tagged a regular.

“Long day?” he asked.

Working a ten-hour shift at the emergency room would be considered a long day by anyone’s standards, but for her it was the norm.

“Same as usual.”

“Have a good one.” He gave her a little wink and reached around her for the card of the next person in line.

Three more hours until midnight, and the club was already starting to fill up. The lounge area was already standing room only, and plenty of scenes had played out in the main rooms. The crisp crack of a whip followed by a scream could be heard over the mumblings of those chatting in the common areas.

She made quick work of checking her coat and purse into the locker room, dumping in the few quarters and taking the key before going back out into the club.

Since she’d already determined Jamison wouldn’t be there, and she wasn’t going to think about him anymore, she focused on the men who were in the room.

After her long shift, she’d showered and primped her hair as best she could without making the curls frizz. Deciding to go with a long braid, she’d maneuvered her long red hair into a plait and gone about stuffing herself into the new dress she’d bought for the evening.

She wasn’t man hungry. Well, no more than any other single twenty-seven-year-old. She didn’t need to find someone to take care of her, or to take on her problems for her. No, she wanted something more. Something deeper. Someone who would take care of her and meet those darker needs of hers, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. A companion, a lover. But she wasn’t naive. Relationships that start in a dungeon didn’t continue down the aisle. No matter what she wanted, she knew what she’d be getting.

Get a grip, Carissa. It’s a dungeon party. Get your spankings and go home.

Another long day at the hospital awaited her in the morning. Making it all the way to midnight didn’t even register as a concern. She wanted the release her body craved. There wouldn’t be any long-term matchmaking at the party. Just like there hadn’t been at Mistletoe Madness.

Jamison had been a perfect playmate. He gave everything she needed, without a long-negotiated talk. He seemed to know, and she’d followed him right through the night.

Carissa closed her eyes and took another breath.

“Good girl,” he had whispered when he laid her over his lap at the Christmas party. She remembered every tingle his fingertips had given her as he had lifted her skirt over her bottom, exposing her white thong. He had tsked at them. “Little girls don’t wear panties like this,” he had said, then gone so far as to snap the thin fabric between her butt cheeks. She had blushed. Oh, how everything he had said and done made her blush, and wet. So fucking wet. It had taken exactly three passes of her vibrator across her clit when she had gotten home that night to make her body explode. Three passes. But it still hadn’t quenched her thirst for him.

Stop thinking about it!

Music filled the play space, ramping up the energy with heavy beats and smooth rhythms. Carissa needed to have some fun. She was ready to stop agonizing over what she couldn’t have, and start being more realistic.

She moved through the lounge toward the nursery. Not sure about playing in that particular room for the evening, she hesitated in the hallway. A few couples were already inside. A baby girl was getting a hard spanking with a ruler, and a middle stood in the corner with a butt plug prominently displayed between her red cheeks, while her daddy stood beside her, running his hand in circles over her back.

“Not tonight,” she told herself and turned around. She hadn’t squeezed into the little black dress to spend the night in that room.

The moans of a woman finding her climax drew Carissa to the main playroom. She found an open spot in the crowd to watch the scene. A woman’s ass, sporting dark red welts crisscrossing her upturned bottom, faced the crowd, while the rest of her stayed tethered to the spanking bench. Her Dom’s hand was between her legs, stroking her pussy while he spoke softly in her ear.

“You missed it,” the girl next to Carissa whispered. “I’ve never seen such a hot caning scene in my life.”

If she judged by the darkening welts covering the sub’s bottom, it would be the harshest Carissa had seen. Her ass clenched in sympathy for the poor globes. Although the far away, glassy look of the bent-over sub spoke to how much fun she’d had under her Dominant’s stern hand.

Jamison probably had a stern hand, but she wasn’t going to start thinking about that. Except it was too late. Her mind played all the scenarios she had toyed with over the past two weeks.

The little spanking he’d given her the night of the Mistletoe Madness only whetted her appetite for more. More in the way of his dominance, and his body.

Growling at her own stupidity, she decided to get a drink to settle her nerves.

Even if he did show up at the party, she’d just spent the last two weeks ignoring his calls and not responding to his text messages. He’d gone silent three days ago. He’d gotten her message loud and clear.

“Can I get a Pino, please?” Carissa waved down the bartender.

A slender woman with long blonde hair pinned up in ponytails nodded. A dark red collar clung to her neck, and her black romper accentuated the slight curve of her hips. “Sure thing,” she answered and went about pouring a glass for her.

“I’m not sure you should be drinking, little girl.”

A warm hand wrapped around the back of her neck. And that voice. Her body already knew who it was, but she forcibly told herself to relax.

“Oh, I think it’s fine. It is New Year’s Eve, after all,” she responded but didn’t turn. When she brought the wine glass to her lips, his hand tightened.

“I think you should put it down, Carissa.”

She didn’t put the wine down, nor did she take a sip. Pulling free of his grasp, she turned around and pressed herself against the bar. The edge bit into her back. She had nowhere to go. Jamison butted up against her chest. The scent of his aftershave filling the small space between them. How odd that a scent, a tiny little smell could ease rattled emotions.

“A bit overdressed?” She slid into her comfortable armor of snark and wit.

Just as she had fantasized, he wore a tailored tuxedo. Every bit of her mind had been right as to how devilishly gorgeous the man would be in such clothing. Not a single man present could compare. He looked like he owned the room. Hell, from what her online digging told her, he did own a portion of it.

“It’s New Year’s Eve, like you pointed out.” His lips curled into a grin, though any amusement was well hidden. “I’m supposed to be hosting a big bash with Garrick tonight.”

Still gripping the wine, she was tempted to gulp it down before he could snatch it from her. Her nipples tightened, going against her mental refusal to react to him.

“Oh.” At least all of her social skills were still intact. Get it together, Carissa!

“There was something I had to do, though, so I left.”

She swallowed.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” His eyes darkened with the accusation.

“You stopped messaging a few days ago. I assumed you got the hint.” She lifted her right shoulder and put on her best disinterested face.

“Oh, I got the message you wanted to send just fine. But, you see, it’s rude to ignore someone.”

She shifted down the bar enough to put another few inches between their bodies. “And you’ve never ignored a girl you weren’t interested in?”

He huffed a laugh and moved toward her, putting his hands on the bar. Perfectly trapping her against it. “You can pretend you aren’t interested. But we’d have to add lying to your list of naughty behaviors.”

Her stomach twisted. Only wine would cure what ailed her at the moment.

“If you take even one sip of that, little girl, you’ll regret it. Now, put it down.”

She couldn’t let him think he had the upper hand. They hadn’t spoken in two weeks, after all, and she’d blown him off during that time. The edge of the glass slipped between her lips while she kept her eyes focused on his. Tiny wrinkles formed around his eyes as she tipped it and poured the liquid happiness into her mouth.

“I see.” He nodded and removed the glass from her hand after she’d taken her sip. Before she could protest his audacity, he gripped her arm and pulled her forward. The crowd of people seemed to part for him as though he were some god. Though it probably had more to do with the dark glare he gave everyone. She’d seen it when she tried to yank her arm free. One glance back at her, and she gave no further protest.

When he dragged her down the hallway, she kept her eyes on the nursery door, sure he was leading them there. But he pulled her past and on to the next door.

“I don’t think we’re allowed in there,” she said as he jiggled the handle.

He pinned her with another glare. “Stand right there.” He released her arm and dug through his pockets, pulling out a key ring and fumbling through the set until he found the one he wanted.

Once the door was unlocked, he moved to the side and waved her in.

She could run. She could turn around and head back into the main room and out of the club. Even if he caught up to her, a simple word uttered loud enough would keep him away.

“Looks like you’re thinking, which is good. Something you haven’t been doing much of these past weeks.” His eyes darkened, the pupils expanding and covering up his iris.

“That’s not fair.” She managed to stop the pout in her voice, but the dampness in her panties was beyond her control. Damn him and his deep, unyielding voice. “I was thinking.”

His shoulders rolled back, and his jaw released some tension. “Come inside, Carissa. We’re going to talk.”

“And that’s it?” She tilted her head to one side.

The crease deepened around his mouth with his grin. “You’re adorable. Get inside.” His smile dropped, and he jerked a thumb in the direction of the empty room.

She forced herself to move forward, past him, and through the doorway. A desk sat prominently in the middle of the room with two chairs, and in front of it a circle of folding chairs. The familiar smell of chalk and leather hit her.

“Is this supposed to be a schoolroom or something?”

He shut the door, flipping the lock on the handle. “It’s a meeting room. The club offers educational classes, tutorials, and support groups for members.”

She nodded, looking around for something to concentrate on. All of her earlier pretending that she could hold her own with him vanished the moment he touched her. Because she craved his touch more than anything.

“Carissa, why have you been ignoring me?” he asked.

She spun around to face him. Any irritation he may have been holding over the past few minutes didn’t show in his casual stance. He leaned against the door, crossing his ankles and his arms.

“I—” She took a deep breath. This is where the strong Carissa was supposed to take over, but, apparently, she’d taken the day off. “I don’t know.”

“Sure, you do. You actively ignored my messages, didn’t respond to my texts. What made you do that? If you really weren’t interested, you could have said so—or blocked my number. But you didn’t do either of those things.”

His hard stare consumed her. Heat rose in her cheeks, and her throat tightened. He deserved an answer. She had avoided him without cause or at least any that he knew about. Although she had perfectly sound reasons, she hadn’t explained any of them to him.

“I told you at the Christmas party you didn’t have to take my number.” She had said exactly that, right before he went into a short lecture about after care.

“I didn’t take your number, I asked for your number. Stop stalling.” The muscle in his jaw tightened.

Little to no chance existed she’d be leaving the room without explaining herself.

“Potato, patato.” She shrugged, promising her stomach the largest bowl of ice cream ever eaten if only it would keep the contents of her dinner locked up.

“I see. Well, if you’re going to act like a little girl.” He grabbed her arm and brought her over to the desk, kicking the chair out and planting himself in it with little effort.

“No. No, Jamison!” She struggled as he flipped her over his lap, but he easily trapped her, wrapping one arm around her waist.

“We’ll see about no no.” His hand struck hard on her upturned bottom. The flimsy fabric of the little dress she’d worn for the evening offered no protection against his firm palm.

“I didn’t say you could spank me!” She pushed against his thigh, trying to shove off his lap. He only responded by gripping her waist tighter and spanking faster.

“Jamison!” She slapped his calf.

His hand came down on the upcurve of her ass and stilled.

“Did you just hit me?” The deep, dark voice didn’t brook disagreement. The type of voice she used to dream about, but now—hearing it firsthand, she swallowed hard and froze in position.

“I asked a question. Did you hit me?” His fingers dug into her ass. Even through the material, she could feel the bite of his grip.

“I—uh, it was a reaction.” She tried to rear up enough to look over her shoulder, but when she saw the glower on his face and the strong tick in his jaw, she went back to staring at the floor.

The skirt of her dress flipped over her back. Cool air brushed across her exposed bottom, emphasizing the burn of her freshly spanked ass.

“A thong?” He laughed, sliding one finger beneath the little string, pulling it away from her bottom, and letting it snap back down, just like he had their first night. “I was pretty clear about what a little girl should be wearing.” He rubbed his hand over her backside, washing away the lingering sting.

His fingers trailed lower, pressing between her legs until he found what he sought, and what she needed him to find. For two weeks, she’d brought herself to pleasure at the idea of his fingers doing exactly this.

“And this wetness here.” He slid beneath the thin material of the thong and gathered her arousal on his fingers. “What’s this for? Because you were being spanked like the naughty little girl you are, or because you’ve been dreaming of me doing this.” Two fingers pushed through her folds and into her passage.

She held her breath, remaining still. Maybe if she didn’t move, he wouldn’t remember he was upset with her.

“I’ve been worried, irritated, maybe a little pissed, but mostly worried about you. Two weeks ago, we had an amazing evening together and then you vanished on me.” His fingers pumped into her, distracting her from his words.

“I promised myself if and when I caught up with you, I’d make you regret your actions.” His fingers pumped faster, harder. She spread her legs and arched her back, giving him better access.

“I’m sorry,” she said on a hard breath. Her heart raced; lungs pumped to take in air as he continued to fuck her with his fingers. “Oh. God.” The pressure. The pleasant buildup to the impending explosion.

“Oh. I’m sure you think you are, but not yet.” He unraveled his hand from her waist, and spread her ass cheeks, thrusting harder and faster into her. The chair squeaked from the force of their movements.

“Oh! Oh!” She sucked in air, waiting for the dam to burst.

His hand. The forceful, thick fingers of his hand disappeared.

She cried out, “No!” and tried to wiggle off his lap.

He wrapped his arm back around her waist and laid into her ass again, delivering twelve stinging swats before he stopped. She wiggled and cried out, but by the time he’d gotten to the last smack, she was a puddle on his lap. Tears ran down her face, either from the loss of the most explosive orgasm she’d been so close to having or the raging sting taking over her ass. It didn’t really matter. She was miserable.

When she finished crying, he pulled her up to her feet and moved her to stand between his knees. He held her hands in front of her, stopping her from acting on any ideas about rubbing the soreness away or finishing what he started.

“Do you not want to see me?” Vulnerability weaved into his words.

“No!” So much for the suave demeanor. “I mean, that’s not it. I do—did—do want to see you. I just…” She sniffled. “It’s not going to work, Jamison. It was fine for a fun night like the Christmas party, but not for long term, not in real life. These things don’t last.”

He sat back in the chair, pulling her into his lap. “What things?” He produced a handkerchief and wiped away her tears and beneath her nose.

“These things. Couples who meet at the dungeon. They don’t last, and I’m tired of pretending they do. And besides that, you’re uptown, and I’m, well, not. What would your family think? What would your friends think?”

“Don’t bring money into this. That’s a line of bullshit, and you know it. As for the other—I know plenty of couples who have lasted a long time,” he said.

“What? They dated for a few months, maybe even a year, but that’s it. Once the fun wears off, it’s over.”

“Garrick and Jade are making a go of it,” he pointed out.

She shook her head. “Yeah, but they’ve known each other forever. They aren’t the same as people like us.”

He tweaked her nose. “You are the first woman ever not to want to date because she was afraid of commitment. Most girls I’ve known started hinting at collars and wedding rings a few months in.”

“That’s because they know if they don’t get that ring on, it’s not going to last. Hell, even if the ring goes on—” She sniffled and shook her head. “Look. Long term doesn’t work in this kind of relationship, and I don’t want a vanilla relationship, so it’s better if we don’t pretend. I mean we can play when we see each other but other than that—” She shrugged to finish her sentence.

“You’re serious about this? You’re just looking for a play partner?” He pinched her chin between two fingers and pulled her face closer to his.

“If that doesn’t interest you—”

“I don’t think it interests you.” The firm way he spoke got her attention. “I’ve seen you, Carissa. Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen you here in the club. Guys come up to you, you talk with them a bit then ditch them. If what you were really looking for was some quick session, you wouldn’t have turned them all down.”

“How did you see me? You weren’t here.” And all her cards were shown.

His eyes widened a hair, and he shook his head. “I’ll admit it. The security camera’s play on our computers, and I usually have them on in the background when I’m working here. When you popped up, I took a little extra time with the screen.”

“But you weren’t even here.”

He tilted his head. “And how do you know that?” He wiped a strand of hair from her face. “Don’t answer. I already know. Steve mentioned you asked a few times. He didn’t realize we knew each other.”

Her stomach sank. She had asked Steve nearly every night she’d come to the club, except for tonight. She’d been so nervous when she checked in, she had forgotten to ask.

“Why’d you turn down all those men? They’re good guys. I know most of them, and not a single member of this club doesn’t get screened thoroughly.”

Time to get the spotlight off her and back onto him.

“I’ve seen you around, too. Before we met at Mistletoe Madness. You aren’t a relationship kind of guy either. You rotate subs like you change your sheets.” Snark would have to be her line of defense against him. Just his fingers on her, touching and cradling her chin, was enough to make her resolve weaken, and she didn’t want to be weak. Not for him, not for anyone.

“I may have been with my share of women, but never because I don’t want to end up with someone.”

“I know.” She smiled. “It’s because relationships like this don’t last.” Point—Carissa!

“I think you need another spanking.” His grin cracked through the seriousness of his words. “Give me a month. You take us seriously for one month, and then we’ll decide what to do.”

“A month?” She wanted to laugh, but he still had her chin and didn’t seem to be willing to let go anytime soon.

“Yes. One month, fully invested.”

“Why would you want to do that for me?” She searched his expression. “Is it because I said no? You want what you can’t have?”

His grip tightened on her chin. “Do you think you scare me, little girl?”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

“You don’t think anything lasts, so why not take a chance? You put up with me for one month, and then we will decide together if we end or we continue.”

“I don’t see how one month proves anything.”

“Maybe it doesn’t, but maybe it proves everything. Only one way to find out.” The corner of his mouth turned up.

“You still haven’t answered my question. Why me?” It sounded like a demand, even to her.

She wasn’t one of those girls who fell for every pickup line a man gave her. If Jamison had really been waiting to get his hands on her for two weeks, he needed to tell her why.

He sighed, pushed a thick curl from her face, and tucked it behind her ear. A few strands had come loose from her braid during her spanking.

“You are nothing like any woman I’ve ever met, and I want to get to know you better.”

No pickup line. No false flattery meant to make her panties wet and her heart thump. A simple truth.

Her mind raced, lists of reasons it wouldn’t work, checklists of ways it would go bad, and a laundry list of hurts she’d suffer if she went through with it.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t overthink, Carissa.”

Sound advice.

Terrifying advice.

“Okay. One month.” She raised a single finger between them.

He chuckled. Letting go of her chin, he grabbed her finger and brought it down to her lap.

The thick kissable lips she’d dreamed about earlier pressed against hers. Electric shivers ran the length of her body, heating every fiber and waking every nerve ending. She clutched his tuxedo jacket in her fists, leaning into the kiss and giving over when his tongue brushed her bottom lip. His hand wrapped possessively around her body. The building could’ve burned down around her, and she wouldn’t have batted an eye.

When he broke the kiss, pulling back and ending the spell, she blinked a few times. Her lips felt swollen and chilled with him gone.

“You understand this makes you mine.”

She licked her lips, wanting more of his taste. “Yes.”

“No, no. If you’re mine, you answer properly.”

Her cheeks flamed; her heart quickened. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Now about that wine.”

Chapter 4

Jamison pushed open the door to his father’s home office and stepped inside. As was typical, Baron Croft sat at his desk, the deep mahogany mirroring the dark soul that resided in him. He’d sent for his only son with a message to come over for dinner. Jamison had been reluctant to commit, but Baron would only continue to hound his assistant until the details were finalized. His attempt to avoid his father for at least another week died once the man started calling the office.

Jamison didn’t know what he wanted, but the general topic would be business. The last time his father called him over to have a discussion about anything of a personal nature he’d been ten years old and the current Mrs. Croft, second in line after his own mother, had flown the coop. All in all, not bad news.

It’s not that he hadn’t liked stepmother number two, but her leaving meant he didn’t have to spend the summer at camp.

Considering he no longer lived at home, and his father had dispensed with the idea of further marriages after his fourth divorce, whatever he wanted had nothing to do with his personal life.

“Ah! There you are, I was about to have Danielle call you.” His father looked up from his laptop and stood.

Jamison reached across the massive desk to shake hands then headed to the bar.

“Traffic on Lake Shore was a nightmare,” he said, pouring brandy into a crystal glass.

The stuffy room could be more attributed to his father’s arrogance than the temperature of the room. Portraits of long-dead family members covered most of the walls. Jamison couldn’t name the men if he tried, and he wondered if his father could.

“Sit. I have something to discuss with you; bring me a brandy as well.” He pointed to the decanter on the bar.

Jamison threw back the rest of his drink and poured two fresh ones, handing his father his before he took his seat across from him.

“Okay, I’m here. What is this big deal that you can’t tell me over the telephone?” He sipped his drink, loving the burn of the dark amber liquid as it traveled down his throat.

“This.” His father turned his laptop around to point to a map of the city. He reached over the top to point at a tiny blip on the screen. “The perfect place to build our resort.” Before Jamison could lean forward to look at the location, his father had turned it away and started clicking away.

“We don’t build,” Jamison said. He hadn’t built anything ever. Aside from Dark Lace. The remodel of the warehouse they’d bought for the club had pretty much torn it down and put it back together, but he hadn’t shared that investment with his father.

“Not yet, but I think it’s time. We’ve done well buying and selling real estate, but I think we need something more permanent. Something we can stamp our name on!” Baron hadn’t looked so excited about anything since the IRSs audit concluded without finding a single transgression.

“So, you want to build an apartment complex?”

The wrinkled cheeks of his father puffed out in a scoff. “Apartment? Like in rent to ordinary people? No! I’m talking about a high rise that caters to the elite. Two-floor apartments, the best of everything. See here? This is the first year’s projected revenue.” He turned the laptop back to Jamison and pointed at a line on the financial report.

“You’ve gotten bids from the builders already?” Jamison pulled the computer closer to him to look at the numbers.

“No, no. Not firm ones, just preliminary estimates.”

“It sounds interesting, but why do you need me for this one?”

“Need you? Because it’s going to have the Croft name on it. It’s going to be ours, and it opens the door to a whole new avenue. We can build Croft Towers in every city across the country, Europe even!”

Jamison sat back in his chair. His father’s perfectly styled graying hair seemed a little thinner than the last time he saw him, the circles under his eyes a bit darker. “You’re really excited about this,” he mused. If only graduating as the college valedictorian had elicited as much excitement from him years ago, perhaps their relationship would be a tad stronger.

“You should be, too. It’s going to mean big things for us.”

“How much is the plot of land selling for?” Jamison crossed one foot over his knee and scooted down in his chair. Once his father started talking money, it was going to be a long night.

“Well, that’s the only hitch. The attorneys are looking into it, but I should have a better idea by the end of the month.”

“Hitch?” Jamison’s phone buzzed in his back pocket, and he dug it out while his father talked around the question.

Just got home. Thanks for lunch, but you don’t have to do that.

He didn’t have to, but he’d gotten one text from Carissa in the morning telling him how crazy the ER was because of a car accident on the Eisenhower. Sending a pizza to the hospital was the least he could do. She needed to eat, and she’d already confessed to skipping her break because of the chaos of the emergency room on most shifts.

Baron continued talking while Jamison typed out his response.

Little girls need their nutrition.

“What was that?” Jamison looked up to find his father in the middle of a self-absorbed conversation. He was clicking away at his computer and rattling on about profit and return on investments. “I think it’s a fine idea. Let’s get some actual numbers and then we’ll go forward.” His father sat at the top of the realm of Croft Enterprises. He didn’t need Jamison’s approval. Nor would he desire it.

“Excellent!” Baron grinned. “I’d rather not take on this project without you. You have a solid head for investments.” As a compliment, it was as strong as Baron Croft would give.

“Thanks.” Jamison stood. “Was there something else?” His phone buzzed again in his hand.

“You’re not leaving, are you? I had them make dinner.”

“Oh, I suppose I have time for a quick bite.” Jamison checked the clock on his father’s imposing desk. If she’d just gotten home, she’d need at least an hour or two to shower and rest a bit. He sent her a quick message asking if he could come over.

I have plans tonight, maybe tomorrow?

Plans? On a Tuesday night? He typed out the question, wanting to know where she was going, but he stilled himself. Would it be moving too quickly to ask where she was going and when he could expect her to return home?

Oh? Where are you headed?

“Let’s go. I think I smell roast beef.” Baron shut his laptop and rounded the desk. Not a small man in stature by any means, he stood almost as tall as his son, and his shoulders were nearly as wide although age seemed to be shrinking him.

Just out.

Just out? In what world did she think that counted as an answer?

Call me when you get home. No text. Call. He put his phone in his back pocket and followed his father down the hall, passing more dead people hanging on the walls and an occasional diploma or certificate, toward the dining room.

Just out. He plunked himself down at the far end of the table from his father, six feet of well-polished cherrywood between them, and stewed.

Just out.

Well, he’d see about that.

* * *

Jamison drummed his fingers on his desk, glaring at his computer screen. He’d already been in his office for two hours and had accomplished exactly nothing. The clock on the lower corner of the computer screen mocked him.

Nine a.m. It was nine a.m., and he still hadn’t heard from Carissa. He’d been clear in his message for her to call him when she returned home. He’d even sent a text when he woke up for work and hadn’t heard from her. But still, at nine a.m. he sat at his desk staring at the digital clock on his tool bar.

As he was about to get up and march down to the hospital to check on her, his phone danced on the desktop.

“Carissa.” While a part of him relaxed, knowing she was safe, the other half remained irritated at her behavior.

“Hi. Sorry.” She yawned into the phone. “Sorry. I got in later than I thought, and it was too late to call.”

“It’s never too late to call me. Are you at work?” He didn’t bother containing the clipped tone.

“What? No. I took the day off. Shirley, another nurse, needed some overtime to pay for her daughter’s braces so I offered her my shift.” The woman sounded downright exhausted.

“Exactly what time did you get in?” He prepared to dislike the answer.

“I don’t know. Eleven. I was beat so I went to bed.” Another yawn.

“You’re home now?” He turned around to look out the expansive office windows at the city laid out before him.

“Yes. I called you as soon as I woke up.” At least a sliver of apprehension entered her voice. He didn’t want her scared, never would he want her afraid of him, but she should at least understand when she’d crossed a line.

“Carissa.” He took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried when I woke up and you hadn’t called, and even more so when I text you and you didn’t respond.”

“Did you think I ran away again?” He could hear the levity creep back in, but it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“I was worried something happened to you.” His office door opened, and his secretary walked in. Garrick trailed behind her with an obnoxious grin plastered on his face.

“Well nothing did. I fell asleep.”

“You told me last night you were working today.” His secretary closed the door behind her as she left, leaving Garrick and Jamison alone.

“When I said that I had planned to, Shirley called me while I was out.”

He clenched his jaw but forced himself to relax. He’d told himself he’d give her time, be patient, but she pushed harder than he expected. “And where was out?”

“Are we going to have this conversation every time I do something without you? You aren’t a control freak, are you?”

Okay, his patience was done.

“Carissa, I have to get back to work. And you have some thinking to do.” He caught Garrick’s raised brow but turned away from him. He’d address that later. “I’m coming over this afternoon. I expect you to be at your apartment. Since you hadn’t planned on being off work today, you shouldn’t have any plans. You will stay in your apartment until I get there. And then we will discuss last night, this morning, and this conversation.”

“You’re grounding me?” He imagined her dark eyes widening, a reddish tinge touching her cheeks as her temper rose. “I know we play with our ages a bit, but I’m not a fucking child.”

“Not one foot outside your apartment. And we’ll add your language to the list.”

“And if I’m not here?”

He almost growled. No other woman had pushed him so hard before. Maybe she wasn’t serious about giving them a real try. Maybe she really only wanted some fun at the dungeon. Except he saw her, saw the light in her eyes when he had her snuggled in his lap. It wasn’t an orgasm she searched for; it was a connection. The same thing he pursued with a partner. He’d held her and felt her, not only her warm body, but her—the girl in the woman, the woman in her soul.

“I’ll be here,” she whispered after a long moment of silence passed.

“As soon as I’m done here, I’ll come over.” He finished the call with a softer tone and took a moment to breathe before facing Garrick.

He should have waited another moment. When he turned around, Garrick had the biggest shit-eating grin he’d seen him wear in a long time plastered on his face.

“So—that’s what you left our party for on New Year’s Eve? Carissa?” Garrick folded his arms over his chest.

“You knew exactly what I was doing.” Jamison shot back at him. There were very few secrets between them, having been friends since college and business partners for a handful of years already.

“She’s going to be hard to tame.” Garrick raised his brow. “That woman has been all twisted up since I met her.”

“Twisted up about what? She knows what she wants. She’s not ashamed of being submissive and even less ashamed of playing in the nursery.” Jamison pretended to shuffle files around his desk.

“It’s not that. She’s a natural submissive. I’ve seen her with a few boyfriends—oh, none of them lasted very long. Either they weren’t into the scene and she thought she could deal, or they couldn’t deal with her.”

“You aren’t making any sense,” Jamison accused, although it did give him a bit of an insight into Carissa’s misguided idea that all relationships were terminal.

Garrick sighed. “She’s got a mind of her own, but she doesn’t understand that she can have that and belong to someone. One or the other.”

“Ah, no gray area. All black or all white.”

“So, while you’re trying to get that through her thick skull, she’s going to give you a run for your money,” Garrick promised with another gleeful grin.

“You act as though the taming isn’t going to be fun. I’ll grant you; I don’t know her like you do—I may have met her socially here and there, seen her from across the room at a party or two, but now that she’s mine—she’s all mine.” The utter possession he felt with his words only amplified his desire to get to her apartment with the most haste. “The taming, the training, it’s a never-ending thing.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Are you telling me you don’t want me to date her? Don’t think I can handle her any more than you can handle your Jade?” Heat prickled his neck under his collar. Not handle Carissa?

Garrick’s expression darkened at the mention of his new girlfriend. They’d had a rocky start, but from what Jamison could tell things were starting to smooth out.

“I’m just saying—well, hell, I don’t know what I’m saying. Carissa’s like a little sister in some ways.” Garrick ran his hand through his hair. “Don’t fall for her toughness. Sometimes she gets all puffed up, but inside she’s soft and gooey.”

“Are we still talking about Carissa or one of those Marshmallow Peeps?”

Garrick laughed.

“Now. What did you want? I know you didn’t come in here to warn me off Carissa?”

“No, though I did enjoy hearing your end of that conversation. Nice to see someone else trying to keep his mind in one piece while wanting to pull every strand of hair from his head.”

“Glad I could entertain.” Jamison sat in his leather chair that perfectly matched the deep-brown of all the furniture in the room. Thankfully, the designer opted to use light-colored carpeting and paint, otherwise his office would resemble too closely the dark den in his father’s house.

“Well, anyway. I wanted to ask you about the high rise. Your father sent over some reports and requested a meeting. I didn’t realize you wanted to start building properties.”

“I don’t. I mean, I’m not sure. He mentioned something last night, but I haven’t looked at what he gave me. He contacted you, too?”

Garrick rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought it was weird. Usually the only dealings I have with him are when you force me to your place for dinner or he barges in here with urgent business matters for your real business.”

Baron Croft still could not wrap his brain around his only son wanting to strike out on his own. Baron never wanted to invest in any sort of entertainment markets, so Jamison started investing with Garrick for projects that his father wouldn’t list under Croft Enterprises.

According to Baron, it was a little hobby. According to Jamison’s accountant, it was a thriving business on its way to matching his father’s. But Jamison didn’t bring that up at family dinners.

“He’s really excited about this project,” Jamison explained. “If he wants to bring both of us in on it, he must really want it. He probably thinks if you go for it, I’ll have to.”

“Since when does he need your approval for anything he does?”

“Never. Let’s look over what he sends and see if it’s something we can get behind. If not, then I’ll take it on under his company.” Jamison quickly shut down his computer. “I’m taking the rest of the day off,” he announced and whipped his suit jacket off the back of his chair and jammed his arms through the sleeves.

“I’ll catch you later then.” Garrick flashed another knowing grin, and if Jamison wasn’t in a hurry to get to Carissa’s place, he’d stop to wipe it off for him.

Chapter 5

Carissa marched across her living room for the dozenth time. Never had she wanted to step outside and breathe a breath of ice-cold air as she did at that moment.

She should have called Jamison when she got home the night before, or at least texted him that she’d gotten home okay. He was looking out for her safety. And wasn’t that what she wanted? Someone who didn’t just think of her, but about her?

Maybe she pushed the boundary. He’d already sounded all growly when she didn’t tell him where she was headed for the night.

When the doorbell rang, she jumped. “Dammit.” She’d gotten lost in thought and hadn’t seen his car pull up.

She expected to see frustration, irritation, or at least a little simmering temper, but when he opened the door, she found the exact same panty-soaking handsome man she’d met at Dark Lace.

The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and he’d taken off his tie. His dark hair looked as disheveled as it always did, and as if the look of casual eroticism wasn’t complete, a smile pulled at his lips when his gaze met hers.

“Hi,” she said. Excellent way to start the conversation.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He nodded. “Can I come in?”

“Depends.”

His eyebrows arched. “On what?”

She licked her lips and smiled. “On what you’re going to do once you come inside.”

“Oh.” He nodded and slid his hands into his pockets. “You want me to talk about your punishment out here in the hallway? Did you want me to knock on your neighbor’s door so they can come down and listen?” He pointed toward the stairs that curled up to the third floor of the three-flat building.

“Oh my god!” She reached out and grabbed his arm, yanking him into the apartment. “Come in. Come in.” She peeked back up the stairs, to be sure Mr. Buschmann, Chicago’s biggest busybody, hadn’t stuck his head over the railing to listen, and shut the door.

When she turned back around, she found a determined man staring at her. The playful smile long gone, and his suit jacket was already being pulled off. Her stomach clenched, as well as her other lady parts at the authoritative side of him coming alive.

“I was just kidding,” she said, pushing off the door and walking through the living room.

“You think now is a good time for jokes, do you?” he asked.

His tone stilled her. His stance didn’t do much in the way of relaxing her nerves either, with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes fixed on her. He wanted an answer, she supposed.

“I think you don’t think so.”

“Very astute of you.” He nodded. “But what do you think?”

She blew out a hard breath. “I think I was kidding but seeing as you came over here to yell at me, it probably was a bad idea.”

“Yell?” he asked. “I don’t yell. Why would I yell? Because last night I was very clear that you were to call me when you got home, and you didn’t? Or because when I tried asking about your evening this morning, you were evasive and didn’t take me seriously? Or could it be the language you used.... what did you say? What was that naughty word that came out of that little mouth of yours?” With each question, he took a large stride in her direction, coming to stand directly in front of her by the time he finished.

Whatever comeback she’d formed disappeared when she lifted her chin to look up at him. Dark, serious eyes met her stare.

She’d had doms before, and some of them even liked to be called Daddy, but none of them had ever looked at her with such determination. Maybe she should have called him when she got home. He didn’t need to know everything about her day, and she could have set a limit on how much he got to question her about her time away from him. She was allowed privacy. Wasn’t she?

“I’m waiting for an answer, little girl.” His lowered voice coupled with the intensity of his stare made her squirm. “What was that naughty word you said?”

“Fucking,” she whispered, not quite meeting his eyes anymore.

“That’s right. That’s the word.” He cupped her chin, dragging it upward and forcing her to find his eyes.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me where you were last night? Are you seeing someone else?”

“No!” she jerked away from his touch and put distance between them. Finding a safe place behind the rocking recliner her grandmother had gifted her when she’d gone off to college, she straightened her shoulders. “I’m not seeing anyone else.”

“Good. Then please answer the rest of my question.”

Impossible man. “I was with some friends, that’s all. We met up for some drinks.” There had been wine, though she’d only indulged in one glass.

“You went out drinking?”

“No, I mean, yes we were drinking alcohol, but we didn’t go out to get plastered.” She gripped the back of the recliner in her fists.

“Why couldn’t you tell me that? Letting off steam after the shifts you have isn’t something I'd keep you from doing. You have a stressful job.”

That was putting it mildly. Dealing with the patients and families gave her enough of a headache, but the doctors were the real pain in the ass. Dishing out orders, barking demands, and handing out more attitude than anyone should feel okay about.

“I told you I was going out. You never said you wanted to keep tabs on me.”

“I don’t need to keep tabs on you, and I won’t be putting a tracker on your phone or any other stupid thing like that. But when I ask you a direct question, I expect a direct answer. I do not want to hear vague responses like just out. That’s not an answer. An answer would have been, heading to the bar with my friends.”

He was on the move again, inching closer to the recliner, and determination completely darkened his expression. A man on a mission.

“And you would have said, oh, okay?” she snapped.

“You’ll never know, will you?” He quirked an eyebrow. She didn’t like his tone—hard and unrelenting.

“Fine. I should have told you.” She folded her arms over her chest, picking up her own defense of attitude to shield her from whatever he was about to say.

“Oh, little girl. You’re attitude really is going to be the first thing we work on tonight.” The smirk on his lips eased the knot in her chest enough for her to breath a bit easier. “I don’t expect you to tell me what you are doing every second of every day, but when I ask you where you are, or where you’re going, you will tell me. Is that clear, Carissa-girl?”

Did she want that? With all her past relationships, she’d never ventured too far from the bedroom with power dynamic. And all of those relationships had failed, miserably. Either the men were too wimpy or too frustrated with her to give her anything other than a few rounds of spankytime before marching out.

But with Jamison, the idea of taking everything between them everywhere didn’t feel so suffocating. The fear she’d felt in the past didn’t clutch her throat the way it had before.

It didn’t mean anything, not really. It still wouldn’t matter. Once the month ended, he’d saddle up and ride off. She couldn’t let him affect her like this; she needed to remember they had a time stamp.

“Do you think I’ll tuck tail and run the first time you show me your little rebellious side?”

“I didn’t think that,” she defended herself. “I was thinking it was late when I got home, and I’d talk to you in the morning.”

“That’s not what I told you to do, is it, little girl?”

Of course, it’s not what he told her to do. Seeing as he glared at her with a very clear desire to redden her ass, she thought the answer obvious.

“I asked you a question.”

“No, that’s not what you told me to do.”

“Remove your pants and your panties and find a corner to get comfortable in,” he instructed.

She opened her mouth to speak, sure something full of wisdom and reason would come to her aid.

Nothing. She sighed.

She’d gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she? A man who wouldn’t take a little pushing from her and run away. A man who stuck to his principles.

Knowing the large picture windows facing the street wouldn’t allow for much privacy from people walking by, and the flimsy door leading to the hall wouldn’t keep old Buschmann from hearing what she did not want broadcasted, she headed straight for the bedroom in the back of the apartment.

* * *

She needed to paint. The dull coloring of her bedroom only reinforced the boredom of corner time.

Jamison had walked into the room only a few seconds after her, but he hadn’t said a word. She went about stripping out of her yoga pants and panties, kicking them near the dresser.

The bed squeaked from behind her. He shifted around. Was he staring at her? When she tried to take a peek at him, he gave her a solid glare and twirled his finger at her.

“Nose in the corner.”

She sighed.

“What was that?” he asked with a firm tone.

“Yes, Daddy.” She rested her forehead against the cool wall. How easily that sentence slipped from her lips.

She heard him moving behind her but was still startled when his hand touched her ass. He didn’t smack her or pinch her. He simply cradled her cheek in his palm. Heat rose to her face, and she pushed herself farther into the corner.

“Such a nice bottom.” The deep tenor of his voice startled her after the moments of silence that stretched out.

His touch was gone, leaving her exposed to the cool air of the room.

“Come here, Carissa-girl.”

She shuffled her feet until she was turned toward him. Folding her hands in front of her, she made her way to where he sat. The chair from her vanity sat front and center in the large area between her dresser and queen-sized bed. The dark duvet covering matched the expression in his eyes perfectly.

He tilted his head, watching her as she slowly made her way to him, taking each step as though he sat on an executioner’s perch instead of her simple vanity chair. He rested his hands on his knees, just waiting for her to obey him and come to him and receive her punishment sent a shiver through her body. He wasn’t playing. This was business for him.

“Do you have a hairbrush, one with a flat backing?”

Of course, she did. What spanko didn’t own one of those for this express reason? Only the fantasy of having the wooden brush used on her upturned bottom would most likely prove more satisfying than the reality he was about to dunk her into.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Go get it and bring it back here. And no more dragging your feet. You have fifteen seconds to get your bottom back here, or I add more to your punishment.”

She nodded; her throat too thick to let her speak. The brush wasn’t far. It took only a few moments to rush to her vanity to get it and get back to him.

“Thank you.” He took the brush from her and rested it on his knee. “Now, put your hands behind your back. You don’t hide anything from me, little girl. Especially that pretty pussy. It’s mine to look at whenever I want, and even if you think I don’t want to see it because you’ve been bad doesn’t mean you get to hide. Hands back, there. That’s a good girl.”

He had a way of easing her mind into a softer place. Somewhere she could let go of the nagging sensations of being in control. He let her slip into a gentler frame of mind, nearly cradling her as she found her place.

“Do you understand why you’re being punished, Carissa-girl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the brush and not his face. The disappointment that tinted his voice would be mirrored there, and she couldn’t see that.

They’d only been together a few days, and already she found herself over his knee.

“Tell me.”

She held in the pout but still let some of it slip into her answer. “Because you wanted me to tell you where I went. And you didn’t like my answers this morning. And because you didn’t like the curse word I used.”

He slapped the brush against his palm. “Okay, let’s get this done, then.” He patted his knee. “Bottoms up.”

She might have found the term slightly amusing if she wasn’t crawling over his muscular lap in order to have her backside blistered.

He didn’t hold back. Right out of the gate he brought the brush down on her upturned bottom. “You will learn that when I ask a question, you answer directly.”

She wiggled as the force of the brush increased.

“You will learn to watch your attitude, little girl.” The brush landed particularly harshly on her left cheek and then her right.

“Ow!” she yelled when he upped the intensity again. “Wait. Ouch!” She waved her hand behind her, but he easily caught her by the wrist and wrenched it to the small of her back. “It hurts!” She wiggled her backside, trying to evade the wooden devil he held in his hand.

“You aren’t getting away.” He jostled her a bit, ensnaring her legs with one of his own, and wrapping his arm around her waist.

Completely trapped and blocked from protecting herself, all she could do was feel. Each burning stroke of the brush. Every word of his lecture. All of it soaked into her body.

“I won’t control every minute of your day, but if I ask you where you’re going, you will answer me.” He punctuated his statement firmly with a stroke to her thigh.

“I’m sorry!” she cried out. The spanking continued no matter how much she tried to wiggle free.

Finally, her head dropped, and she wrangled her hand free and steadied herself by placing her palms on the floor, and she gave in.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy.” She sniffled, and hot tears dripped onto the carpeting below her. Not only did her bottom hurt, but her chest burned with regret. Several long moments passed before she realized he’d stopped spanking her and was stroking her fiery bottom with his fingertips.

“You took your first bad-girl spanking pretty well, Carissa,” he said.

His compliment shoved away some of the dark cloud hanging over her. He helped her up from his lap and moved her to stand in front of him again. She remembered his rule and didn’t try to cover herself.

“You were just punished, so you won’t get to have any fun with this pussy of yours right now.”

He kept his eyes glued to hers as his fingers slipped between her wet folds. She tensed her jaw, keeping the moan inside, afraid he’d take his hand away if he knew how good it felt.

“So wet for me.” He rolled his fingers over her clit, circling it and pushing on it. Her eyes closed, and she slid her legs apart for him, knowing she looked desperate, and not giving much credence to the shame her mind told her she should feel. Her pussy dictated her movements now.

“Please.” She arched her hips toward him.

“Nope.” He pulled his hand away abruptly, and her eyes flew to his face, just in time to see his fingers disappear into his mouth. He sucked the juices off his fingers and smiled. “Maybe later, if you’ve been a good girl the rest of the day.”

She chewed on her lip. His trousers were bulging from his obvious erection. Surely, he wouldn’t want to deny himself pleasure. Her hope came alive again.

“What about you?” She tilted her head and pointed to his hard on.

He shifted in his seat, gripping the bulge and making himself more comfortable.

“You want my cock?”

“Oh yes.” She smiled.

“Get on your knees, then,” he ordered. He shucked his shirt, exposing the hard-ripped body beneath.

She moved quickly to the floor, dragging her hands across her face to rid herself of her tears.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather cuddle?” he asked, standing from the chair and working his belt buckle free.

“No, no.” She shook her head. They could cuddle after. She’d cuddle the hell out of him if he would just put out the fire he’d built between her legs.

She watched, starved and anxious as he jerked his pants over his hips and his cock sprang out from behind his boxers. Salivating like an animal in heat, she reached for his staff, but he smacked her hand away.

“Take off your top and bra.”

Quickly, she went about obeying then reached for him again.

When he pushed her hand away, she looked up at him with irritation.

“Eyes on my cock,” he ordered.

His hand gripped his thick shaft, and he stroked it. She’d seen cocks before, so it wasn’t shocking, but it—fuck—it was beautiful. Long and thick with a drop of moisture beaded at the head. His palm ran over the smooth tip of his dick, coating his shaft with the juices. He jerked his hips forward, through the tight grip of his hand, and let out a moan. One filled with pleasure and desire.

When she leaned toward him, he tapped her mouth with his free hand. “You only watch.”

She wanted to stomp something, but his hand dove into her hair, fisting it at the roots and holding her out of reach of his cock. She could smell the masculine scent of him, and her tongue ached to touch the silken bulb of his dick, but he kept her right where he wanted and gave her no room to move.

Faster, he stroked. His stomach muscles caved inward and twitched. His breath came faster. The grip on her hair intensified.

She wanted him, wanted to taste him, stroke him. She wanted her own damn pleasure, too. But he wouldn’t be giving it to her. He would be taking his pleasure, and she would only be watching. Because she’d been naughty.

“Fuck.” He yanked her head back and took a micro step toward her. She opened her mouth, waiting for her reward for taking this part of her punishment—the worst part—well.

But he aimed lower.

Hot spurts of cum streamed from his cock onto her chest, her neck, and her chin. He kept every drop away from her mouth. Her shoulders slumped when he finally released her hair.

He caught her chin and pulled her gaze to meet his.

“You can’t lead me around by my cock, little girl. Never try that again, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Fresh tears sprang to her eyes.

“No more tears.” He released her chin and brushed them away. “Lesson learned, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Good enough. Now, I’m going to fill a bath so I can wash you up. Then we’ll check out your kitchen for food. I’m starved. You stay right here on your knees until I call you, okay? Reflect on what you’ve learned.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said.

Even with the pull of her arousal, her mind calmed. She’d messed up, but he wasn’t storming out; he wasn’t giving in.

“I’ll be back.” He pressed a warm kiss to her forehead, pulled his pants up, and walked off toward the bathroom.

He wasn’t supposed to be so perfect. Her guilt over her lie, over her omission built up again. She’d have to tell him sooner rather than later. After the bath. Then she’d come clean in every way possible.

Chapter 6

Damn. He wanted to bury himself inside her.

Jamison sat on the edge of her bathtub watching her. The lavender scented bubble bath he’d found under the sink created just enough white fluff to cover her naked body, but every now and then, when she moved, a nipple would peek through, and he’d lick his lips.

She lay back against the tub, bubbles up to her collarbone, smiling softly. He probably shouldn’t be letting her have so much fun considering he’d just punished her, but it would have been more painful for him not to see the joy on her face.

“Don’t take bubble baths very often?” he asked, flicking the top off a mound of bubbles.

She opened her eyes and bit at her lower lip. “Don’t usually have time. On my days off, I’m running errands or at a meeting.”

“Hmmm, meeting for work?”

“Uh. No, just meeting friends or stuff,” she said. The little quiver in her voice gave her away. She was keeping something from him.

“What sort of stuff?” He tried to keep his voice light. Hadn’t he just reddened her ass because of her evasive answers? Had she forgotten so quickly how hard he could spank because he hadn’t gone very hard on her. He’d been gentle compared to what he wanted to give her and would give her if she continued to be so damn cryptic.

“Sometimes I visit a women’s shelter to help out with their health care programs.” She shifted her seat, sitting upright. The bubbles fell away from her chest, leaving a few stowaways clinging to her breasts. Her full, well rounded, breasts.

“You volunteer? Why didn’t you tell me that? That’s great.” He reached over and wiped her hair back from her face.

“It didn’t really come up before.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. He didn’t like her breasts being covered up, but he’d get a good look soon enough.

“So, what else do you do there?” he asked.

“Mostly the programs. I’ve sent a few women there after they’ve been in the ER from being abused at home, or young girls who’ve just delivered a baby and had nowhere else to turn.” She rested her chin on her knees. “Sometimes I help in the clinic if the staff nurse needs me.”

Her entire body was coiled up in a ball, giving him no view of anything other than her knees. He couldn't remember the last time he had a naked woman before him and all they did was talk. His comfort level with her surpassed any other he could remember.

“What made you start volunteering there?”

Her eyes darted away from him, and her muscles tightened. Her whole body seized up for a moment. It passed quickly, but he’d seen it.

“I’ve been doing it so long; I don’t really remember.” She still hadn’t looked back up at him, and the little tremor in her voice told him she was holding something back.

Trust was earned. It wasn’t something he could demand she give. Whatever transpired to make the women’s shelter a meaningful part of her life probably wasn’t something she enjoyed reliving. He could probably demand she come clean, tell him everything, but he wouldn’t. Forcing that sort of honesty from her wouldn’t build a foundation either of them could stand on for long.

And for the first time, in a very long time, he wanted the foundation to last.

“So, you spend your days saving lives and your time off making lives better.” He scooted along the ledge, getting closer to her. His tub back at his condo could hold both of them. He wouldn’t be sitting on the outside looking in; he’d have her naked body curled into his.

“Well, I’m transferring up to the mommy-and-me ward next week. I hope that won’t lower your opinion of my greatness.” The teasing was back in her voice.

“Dealing with crying babies, nervous new fathers, and women going through postpartum emotions? You’re going to be a saint.” He could admit to himself, at least, the idea of her moving out of the emergency made him feel a bit more comfortable. Midnight shifts in Chicago emergency rooms weren’t all bursting appendixes and high fevers. At least on the maternity ward she wouldn’t come across men bleeding out from a gunshot or have to worry about the shooter barging in to finish the job.

She laughed and rested her cheek on her knee, looking up at him with such raw beauty. She barely wore makeup, just a bit of coloring around her eyes. Everything about her was so natural. So, real. So unexpected.

“Why the move?”

“There was an opening for a more static shift, and I put in for it. It was a long shot. Those shifts are the golden tickets of the nursing world at County Central. I’ll get to be on day shifts for six months then rotate to the middle shift. There’s still movement, but not like now. Now I can be on early shift one week, late the next then early again, it’s fucking hell on my sleep.”

“Then I’m glad you got the position, but I’m not glad about that word. Watch your language.” He tapped her lips with his forefinger. “I think I’ve warned you before.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, her eyes moving to the water. “Daddy,” she added.

“Mmmhmm.” He couldn’t help but smile at her when she looked up at him through her dark lashes. She seemed to be surveying his expression before raising her chin to meet his gaze.

“I’m not keeping you from something tonight, am I?” He would leave if she had plans, He wouldn’t get in the way of her volunteering, but he hoped she had the evening clear.

“No. I’m all yours today.” Her lips curled up into a smile, playful and innocent.

“Hmm, I like the sound of that.” He put on a casual grin, reached into the tub, and yanked the stopper free. “I don’t see a towel here. Where are they?”

“In that little pantry thing in the corner.” She pointed to a cabinet next to the sink.

He retrieved the biggest towel he could find and brought it back to the tub.

“Okay, bath’s done. Now it’s time to get out, little girl.” He extended his hand to help her, but she didn’t reach for it. She stood and started to get out, but he stopped her.

“It’s okay. I have a mat—”

“I want to dry you off first. Stand still now.” He took the towel in both hands and wiped away the residual suds and moisture from her body. He could feel her eyes on him, watching his expression as he stroked her smooth skin with the cotton towel. After moving the towel across her collarbone, he moved down her arms until he reached her stomach. There he gently wiped lower.

Her pussy was completely bare. Even with the lavender scent left on her skin, when he squatted down to dry her legs, he could smell her aroma. The sweet scent of her need. She’d been so good in the bath, letting him wash her when he wanted to, and being as open with him as she could allow herself so far, he would have to give his girl a reward.

As he straightened, he threw the towel over his shoulder. “Step out for me.” He gripped her arm to keep her steady, not giving her a choice to take his hand this time.

The tips of her hair were wet, but otherwise she was completely dried off, and fully nude. “Come sit here.” Easily, he lifted her off the floor and put her on the vanity countertop. Not an overly large bathroom, there was enough room for her to sit but no more than that without slipping into the sink.

“Lean back a little,” he instructed and brushed her hair back over her shoulders until her chest was fully exposed.

She pressed back against the mirror and kept her eyes on him. Watching to see what his next move was, anticipating what he might be doing.

“I want to see these titties,” He cupped her breasts, feeling the weight of them. Not too large, barely a handful. Perfectly shaped. Her dark nipples puckered beneath his attentions. He rubbed his thumb over both while watching her expression change from anticipation to pleasure.

He leaned over, took one nipple into his mouth, and sucked. She moaned, the only encouragement he needed. He sucked harder, flicking his tongue over the peaked nub while his fingers twirled her other nipple.

Her legs slid apart, giving him room to get closer to her. She had to be soaking wet if her quickened breath was any indication of her arousal, but he wouldn’t check yet. If he touched her pussy, if he felt the slickness of her lips, he’d devour her before he really got started. And he planned to take his time. To give her the attention she deserved when she came unglued in his hands.

“So pretty.” He kissed the valley between her breasts, moving to her unkissed nipple. He licked her, dragging the fat of his tongue over the peak until it sprang to attention. Again, he took it in his mouth and sucked, twirling his tongue around the hardened bud.

“Oh.” She arched her spine, giving him more of her breasts.

“You have such sweet titties, Carissa.” He placed a peck on her collarbone, kissing his way up to her shoulder, still rubbing her breast. He dragged his tongue up her shoulder, to where it met her neck and nibbled lightly.

She tilted her head, placing her hands on his arms.

“How wet do you think you are for me?” He bit at her earlobe.

“Very,” she answered with no hesitation.

“Hmm, I bet you taste as sweet there. Let’s go find out.”

Without another word, he scooped her off the counter and carried her on his hip to the bedroom. She wiggled and laughed but didn’t try to get out of his grasp. Which was good for her because he was about to give her the reward only good girls get.

* * *

Carissa bounced on the bed when he dropped her playfully into the center. Scrambling toward the headboard she made room for him, expecting him to remove his pants and climb on with her.

But he didn’t.

He stood over her, staring down with hunger in his eyes. No, not hunger, but famished lust. She noticed for the first time the thin trail of dark hair that led into the waistband of his pants. Above that his sculpted abdomen and just as muscular chest were exposed.

She wanted to touch him, to reach out and drag him into her bed, but before she had the chance, he leaned over her, pressing his hands to the mattress on either side of her head. There was no room to retreat, if she even wanted to.

“Like what you saw, did you?” His satisfied smirk receded into an expression much more intense, more dominating than when he stared at her. “You were a good girl in the bath.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, hot and hard.

Next thing she knew, he jumped onto the bed but wasn’t covering her with his body the way she expected. The way most other men would have. She pulled her knees up, giving him room, but he only shook his head.

With more gentleness than she thought he possessed with such desire burning in his features, he pried her knees apart.

“This is what I want, sweet thing. I want this pussy.” He scooted down, letting his feet dangle off the end of the bed.

Understanding his intentions, she tried to clamp her legs closed again, but he wasn’t having it.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, holding her knees. Concern washed over his features.

“N-nothing. Not really.” She swallowed. She wasn’t new to what he wanted to do; she’d even enjoyed it once or twice. But more often than not it only ended up frustrating both herself and her partner. And she didn’t want to frustrate him.

As though he sensed her apprehension, he pulled himself back up the length of her and pressed a warm kiss to her lips. “Nothing happens that you aren’t ready for, Carissa. If you need to stop, you just say the words. You always have your colors. I’ll never be angry if you use them.”

She nodded, mute from both nerves and anticipation. Everything came easily to him. He succeeded at everything, and she held little doubt this area would be any different. But then again, her concern wasn’t truly rooted in his skill but rather her lack of reaction. What if her body betrayed her, and as aroused and desperate for his touch she was, it just didn’t respond to him?

“Okay, then. Open your legs for me.” He released her knees and she pushed them farther apart. “Good girl.” He flashed a proud smile. Her chest ached with the pleasure that little bit of pride filled her with. She could do this, and, if she failed, if she disappointed him, she at least could say she tried.

Slowly, he descended, pressing a kiss on the top of each breast then on her belly before placing another on her inner thigh on both legs and settling back to where he’d started.

He rose on his elbows, looking up the length of her. His dark brown eyes melted her resolve completely. He was going to do this, and he wasn’t going to let her fear stop him. To put a stop to it, she needed to call out red.

Already he’d proven to be a man of his word. He’d been firm and strict with her but didn’t overstep, didn’t cross the line. Even when delivering that ass-burning spanking, he’d done it with care and concern. If ever she would feel safe in trying this again, feeling a man’s mouth on her sex, it would be with him.

She trusted him.

Her whole body tensed when he lowered his head again, and she nearly burst when he pressed his lips to her clit. A kiss. A warm, tender kiss to the most sensitive part of her. Every nerve ending fired off. Her chest felt as though it would cave in with her deep breaths.

He’d barely touched her, and she was ready to explode.

Nearly dizzy with desire, she arched her back. Her worries about her body being non-responsive flew away. He pressed his lips against her clit again then slid his tongue out, and she felt the hot wetness.

“Oh! Jamison!” She pressed against his head, unsure if she was trying to push him away or farther down her slit.

He chuckled into her folds and reached up, grabbing one hand and pushing the other away. His grip anchored her to him, enough to keep her from flying away into her own mind when his tongue lashed her clit again.

He pressed a little harder, swirling around her clit, flicking it lightly.

Again, she arched her spine, and he covered her entire sex with his mouth. His tongue ran the length of her, toying with her entrance and licking upward to her clit.

She wouldn’t survive much longer; her heart beat too fast. No one could sustain the pressure building inside her.

She gripped his hand harder, threw her head back, and groaned. The fat of his tongue licked her; he suckled her clit.

Being so close brought her panic back, and the pressure waned. Disgruntled, she groaned. “I can’t—”

“You can, don’t stop it, don’t fight it, Carissa.” He hovered over her, his hot breath washing over her sensitive clit. Using two fingers of his free hand, he pried open her lips. “You taste sweeter than I thought you would. Now, give me what I want, Carissa.”

He dove back between her thighs, pressing a wet kiss right above her clit before taking it between his lips and giving the tiniest nibble.

He lapped at her, over and over again. Her hips left the bed, only to return a moment later. She sat at the cusp, and her fear, the ever-nagging notion that she couldn’t jump that ledge started to ease into her mind.

None of it stopped him, though. She moaned, throwing her head to the side, hoping he wouldn’t be upset if she couldn’t find that edge she needed.

He lifted off her pussy and bit down hard on her thigh, making her jump. And when he returned to her folds, he slipped two fingers into her passage.

A new pressure built, harder and faster than before. He thrust his fingers into her, harder and harder while his tongue continued to lap at her clit.

He hummed, a slight sound, but the vibration rocketed through her, and he shifted, and he was there. Right on the spot.

“Oh, god! Oh—I can’t—oh!” Her nails dug into his hand while her body exploded with sensations. Relief and pleasure and pulsations, all crashed into her over and over again, taking away any coherent thought she may have possessed.

When the waves of pleasure finally subsided, and her vision fully returned to her, she chanced a look down at him. He continued to lick and tease her. When he touched the overly sensitive clit she tensed, jerking her hips. Letting go of her hand, he pressed another sound kiss to her and met her gaze.

Rising up to his knees he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. Her juices glistened on his chin, on his fingers that were still coated with her release. Not taking his eyes off of her, he slid his them into his mouth, sucking off every bit of moisture.

Damn he was a sight, all bare skin and confidence. The few who had achieved anything between her legs all looked silly trying to clean up afterward, but not Jamison. He made the act appear to be part of the dance.

With her orgasm retreating, the chill of the room seeped into her skin, reminding her she was lying before him completely naked. She inched upward, until she sat up with her back against her headboard and grabbed a pillow, holding it in front of her in a bear hug.

She glanced at him; he was hard again. Which suited her fine because she felt empty without him near her.

He didn’t give her a chance, though. He shifted until he sat next to her, yanking the pillow out of her hands. He tossed it to the foot of the bed and pulled her into his lap.

She yelped when she landed on his hard lap but melted right into his arms when he wrapped them around her.

“You keep surprising me,” she said, snuggling into his chest. It was warm and comforting to sit skin to skin with him.

“Was that the first time you—”

“No!” She laughed but didn’t meet his eyes. “I mean, not the first time it’s been attempted, but the first time it was such a raving success.” Her cheeks heated at her admission, and she was glad to be snuggled too deep into his arms for him to see the embarrassment of it.

He hugged her tighter.

“Well, keep being so good and it won’t be the last time.” He rested his chin on her head. “Now you’ve seen what bad girls get and good girls get. Which do you think you can be for the rest of the night?”

“I’m going to be the best girl.” She laughed.

Chapter 7

The day dragged behind Jamison as he walked down the hallway to his office. Typically, he found himself engrossed in real estate deals and broker negotiations by this hour. But today wasn’t typical.

He’d woken in Carissa’s bed, holding her against him as though letting her go would mean she’d slip off into the darkness. Which was ridiculous. It was her apartment, after all. Where the hell would she go?

The entire evening had been nothing less than perfect. After giving her the mind-blowing release she’d deserved, they’d taken a short nap. When they woke, they’d scourged her kitchen for food and came up short. The woman really needed to keep a better stock of food. Being a nurse, she really had no reason to ignore her own nutrition.

Talk came easy to them, as though they’d been doing it for years. Falling asleep at her place hadn’t been planned, but when he tucked her into bed, and she asked if he wanted to lie with her for a minute, he couldn’t find the courage to tell her no.

It was the first time in memory he’d slept beside a woman he hadn’t first fucked senseless. The act seemed more intimate this way. It held more meaning.

“Jamison! Finally, there you are, Son.” Baron Croft bounded out from behind Jamison’s desk.

He glanced back at his panicked secretary on the telephone trying to both apologize to him and take a message from the person on the line.

Waving away any guilt she may harbor, he closed the door. No one could stop his father if he wanted into the office. If Baron Croft wanted in a room, he was going in the room.

“Father.” He grasped the hand being thrust at him. The grip was a little less sturdy than in the past, but his father was getting older. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You never are.” He pointed at him. “Did you get a chance to read the reports I gave you? I spoke with that friend of yours, Garrick. He’s on board.”

“Oh, he is?” Jamison hadn’t heard a word from Garrick since their last talk. If he was in full support of the project, he would have informed him before his father.

“Well, he sounded rather interested.” Always a back door available for backpedaling.

“I did take a brief look, but I wanted to check out the location, and we should get firm estimates before we start pooling investors—why are you shaking your head at me?” he asked.

“Because we don’t have time for all that nonsense,” his father said. Nonsense?

“Since when is market research and projects on the investment nonsense?” Jamison rounded his desk and pulled out the folder his father had given him.

“Just tell me if you’re interested!” His father’s usually pale complexion tinted red, and his eyes widened with irritation.

“If it’s a sound investment, then yes, I would be interested. But there’s more to this project than simply building a condominium complex.”

“No, no, not condos. I told you, I want to build a hotel—well, we’d sell apartments on the top floors, but the rest of the building would be a hotel. International hotel.” Baron’s eyes lit up with the very words.

“Hotel? We don’t know anything about hospitality ownership. We’ve only ever invested in real estate—”

“Oh, bullshit, Son. You and your friend own shares in several clubs. Don’t look so surprised. I know what my son is spending his money on at all times. I don’t care much for your afterhours activities, but they appear to bring you some capital gains.”

Jamison stared. In all the years his father made wild claims, told his outrageous lies to cover up other contemptuous actives, he’d never once mentioned that he knew where all of his investments lay.

“Don’t get defensive now.”

“Father, the investments I make are in clubs and restaurants, as well as real estate deals, but none of them are hotels, and I don’t run any of them. I buy shares, a good number of shares, but I don’t purchase main ownership shares because I don’t want to run them.” His involvement at Dark Lace was as deep as he got with his investments.

Baron’s shoulders slumped. “Look at the reports. You’ll see we will make a mint, and our name will be on the largest international chain since that combover cornered the market.”

Jamison let himself chuckle over the contempt in his father’s tone. “I’ll look. I promise.” He pushed the folder to the side and sat down in his plush leather chair, his neck still stiff from Carissa’s small bed. He tried to rub away the soreness. “Why are you so hell bent on this particular project? You’ve never been interested in the hospitality game.”

“I’m not getting any younger,” Baron said.

Jamison waited a few long moments before he realized it was the only rationalization his father would give. And really, should he be surprised? His father never was one for long-winded explanations.

“What other investors have you lined up?”

“There’s the usual interest, but I don’t want them. I want you and Garrick. I want this to be our project, I don’t want a board of stuffy suits to answer to.”

“I can’t bankroll this sort of project,” Jamison said, patting the folder on his desk.

“I don’t want you to. You’ll buy shares, just like you do with this company you have. You and Garrick will have the same number of shares, and I’ll have the majority. We’ll use investors for the remaining nine percent.”

“Nine percent?” Jamison closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Where had his sensible father retreated.

“I’m putting everything into this venture. You and Garrick will own twenty percent each, the investors will hold nine percent, and I’ll hold fifty-one percent.”

“Sir. You have a call holding on line three. Carissa. She said you asked her to call you?”

His girl was learning. And thankfully had good timing. Another minute discussing this harebrained idea, and he might lose his temper.

“Thank you, Janet. I’ll take it.”

“I’m doing this with or without you, Son, but I’d rather it be with you.” The sincerity dripped from his tone, and what didn’t make it there, covered his expression.

“I have to take this. Can we talk about it this weekend? I’ll make a trip over to the space tomorrow and talk with Garrick. We’ll have an answer for you at dinner on Sunday.” He reached for the phone.

“That’s fine.” His father flashed him a grin. “That lady on the phone your newest conquest?”

Conquest. The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. She was a hell of a lot more than that.

“She’s my girlfriend,” he said, picking up the receiver.

“Bring her with you on Sunday.”

“I don’t know—”

“On Sunday, or I’ll just track her down.”

A statement Jamison had no doubt was true.

“Very well. I’ll bring her by on Sunday.”

“Tell Garrick to bring his lady friend. I know he’s seeing someone.”

“I will. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He waved the receiver at him.

Baron nodded and took his leave, but not before giving him a playful wink on his way out. His father didn’t wink. And he never did anything in a playful manner.

The phone buzzed, signaling the call was still holding.

He pressed the button and waited for the line to click live.

“You have the best timing, Carissa. Thank you.”

* * *

Jade answered the call on the fifth ring. “What’s up, Carissa?”

Carissa nibbled on her fingernail. “Oh, not much. Are you working today?” She had the day off, but she couldn’t remember if Jade did or not. Having rotating shifts was a pain in her ass. She couldn’t plan much of anything

“No, I’m off today and tomorrow. Are you okay? You sound wound up about something.”

How to go about telling her she started dating her best friend’s boyfriend’s friend. She should ease into it, mention that she saw him at the club first.

“You know Jamison, right? Garrick’s friend.” Good, nice and easy.

“Yeah, what about him? Did you finally call him back?”

“No.” She bit into her nail again. “It’s worse than that. I’m dating him.”

Jade gasped. “What?” She cleared her throat, an obvious attempt to hide her excitement. “That’s great! How did that happen? You finally took his call, texted him back? What happened?”

“I’ve lost my mind, that’s what’s happened.” She needed Jade to put her back on track with her original decision to stay away from any sort of real relationship in the kink world. Playtime was fine, but nothing real could happen. No matter how natural being held in Jamison’s arms while being put to bed felt. It would not, could not happen.

“Why? Did he do something wrong?”

“He’s dating me, Jade. Of course, he did something wrong!”

Jade gave a dismissive grunt. “You’re being silly—and scared. Mostly scared, I bet.”

“What are you talking about, scared?” What was there to be afraid of, Carissa was already clued into exactly what would happen with Jamison. It was everyone else who seemed to be out of touch with reality.

“He’s the first guy to ever take you on, like call you on your bullshit. You like to play with daddies at the clubs, but now you have one who wants to take you home. It scares you.”

“Okay, you’re insane.” Carissa walked the length of the hallway to her living room. “You know a kink relationship won’t work for me. They don’t work.”

Jade sighed. “Really? That’s not at all what you told me two weeks ago when it was Garrick and I we were talking about.”

“You and Garrick are different. You have the real deal. Inside the bedroom, outside the bedroom, you guys are meant to be together. This isn’t the same thing at all.”

Jade chuckled. “He’s going to have a time of it with you.”

“What does that mean?” Carissa walked into the kitchen to get the coffee pot going.

“It means you have all the answers for everyone else, but completely disregard the same advice for yourself. Whatever you’re afraid of, get over it. Jamison’s a good guy. Garrick wouldn’t have let him anywhere near you at the Mistletoe party if he wasn’t.”

Deciding she wasn’t going to be getting any support from Jade, she moved the topic away from her. “How is Garrick? I see the two of you have patched things up pretty well?”

Jade made another dismissive sound. “Yes, every thing’s fine with him now. We’re working on it, and it’s going to be fine. But we aren’t talking about us—we are talking about you. The biggest mistake you can make right now is to tuck tail and run.”

Carissa considered that for a moment. It wouldn’t be the first time she cut her losses and ran, but it would definitely be the first time she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she wanted to do it.

“Do you call him Daddy?” Jade whispered.

“Is Garrick there?” Carissa demanded, turning on the water to fill the coffee pot.

“No! He’s at work. It’s just me. So, do you?”

“You know, this conversation has gotten off course. You were supposed to be supportive and tell me to forget the whole thing. Month or no month.” She leaned back against the counter and watched the coffee drip into the pot.

“What month? What does that mean?” Jade asked with a little more excitement than Carissa could deal with at the moment. Way to keep the conversation low-key and smooth.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Carissa McAllister, you are a liar. Tell me, now.”

Carissa laughed. “Sometimes I think we’re still in high school.” Not that Carissa would want to relive that era. Ever. Best time of her life—fuck no. “Fine. We’re only going to date for a month. Then it’s over.”

Jade gasped. “What? Just over?”

“Well, technically we’re supposed to talk about it and see if we want to continue or stop. But we all know it’s going to be over.”

“You’re a complete idiot if you think Jamison is going to walk away after a month. He’s a really great guy, Carissa. If he’s doing this, offering everything to you like this, it’s because he’s into it. He’s not a bedroom-only Dom if he’s interested in a girl.”

“But he has jumped from girl to girl, right?”

“No more than any other guy looking for someone more permanent, or any other girl for that matter. He’s going to take care of you, and you’re going to have to start letting him in. Whatever you learned from your mother’s bad habits in her love life, you have to forget them.”

Leave it to Jade to bring her mother up. While most mothers were teaching their daughters to be chaste and how to look for the gentlemen, her mother taught her how to peg a guy for a keeper or a loser. Though, she never seemed to get it right—she always seemed to keep the losers.

“He’s going to be here soon. I’d better go. I still need to get in a run, before I shower.”

“It’s already two in the afternoon!”

“I know. I wanted to sleep in, but I knew he was coming over.” Carissa laughed.

“Give him the benefit of the doubt. You know, like you told me to do with Garrick. Jamison’s not going to let you down. But you have to give him the chance first.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it.” The coffee finished brewing, and the rousing scent filled the kitchen. “Talk to you later.”

They ended their call, and Carissa fixed herself a cup of coffee and brought it to the bedroom. She’d gulp down the caffeine while squeezing into her running gear. The energy from the coffee would help her get at least a good mile in before he arrived.

Chapter 8

“Who are you?” an elderly man with bushy, dark-gray eyebrows called over the railing at Jamison as he reached Carissa’s door. She’d mentioned the man living above her was extremely nosy.

“Hello. You must be Mr. Buschmann. I’m Jamison Croft.” He craned his neck to look up at the man and gave him a welcoming smile. Nosy or not, he was her neighbor.

“You here to see Carissa?” The man gripped the railing and leaned a little farther over.

“Yes.”

“She’s not there. She went for a run about half an hour ago., Isn’t back yet.”

Well, at least Jamison didn’t have to worry that no one was looking out for her when he wasn’t around.

“Do you know how long she runs for?” The man probably had a plethora of information.

“Long enough,” the man sniffled, looking annoyed.

“I’m here. I’m here,” Carissa called, running up the steps. “Hello, Mr. Buschmann.” She waved at him, but Jamison could see the effort she put into being pleasant with the man.

“Hmmph.” The man sniffled again and turned away from the railing. His door closed a moment later.

“Old bugger.” Carissa shook her head. “Hi!” She gave Jamison a brilliant smile.

“Hi?” He looked her over. With her red hair pulled up into a messy bun, her bright-red ears were exposed. Her nose and cheeks were equally crimson. The running pants and jacket couldn’t have given her much protection against the winter air. “It’s not even twenty degrees outside. What were you doing?”

Her smile dropped, but she didn’t respond. She pulled her key from inside her jacket and opened the door to her apartment.

“I went for a run, like I do every day,” she said once they were inside and behind the closed door.

“You aren’t even wearing earmuffs, or gloves!” He couldn’t believe the intelligent woman before him wasn’t even wearing gloves.

Her lips screwed up into a wry pout, and her fingers flexed at her sides. “Are you mad at me already? You just got here.”

He sighed. “I’m not mad, Carissa. I don’t understand why you won’t take care of yourself. I’ll bet if I open your fridge, I won’t find much in there, and if I ask, you’ll tell me you didn’t have time for lunch today either, and now, here you are, half frozen in front of me.”

She wrung her hands, and a drop of sweat made its way down her temple. The flush on her cheeks deepened under his stare.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

His heart swelled. She didn’t argue with him or try to defend her stance; she simply accepted his disappointment. And she’d called him Daddy with no provocation from him.

“I wish you’d told me you like to go for a run. We could have found somewhere warmer for you to do it. There are a lot of gyms around here—”

“I like running outside.” A small pout made its way to her lips, and he found the sight too adorable to chastise.

“I get that, but it’s too cold outside. When it’s this cold, I want you running inside where it’s warm and well-lit. I’ll get you a membership at any club you want tomorrow, but, until then, no more running outside.”

She pinched her lips together, probably trying to think it through. It was no small thing he asked of her. But submitting to her daddy wouldn’t always be easy.

“Fine.” She turned on her heel away from him, but he grabbed her arm and spun her back around.

“No. Fine isn’t an answer. I hate that word, actually. No more saying fine, understand me, Carissa-girl?”

She looked ready to rip her arm from his grasp and stomp her way out of the room.

“I get it,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

She huffed. “I understand, Daddy.”

“Better. Now.” He released her arm. “About this run. You knew I was coming over. Why didn’t you have your run earlier this morning?”

“I slept in.” She gave a carefree shrug. “I only planned to take a short run,” she explained. “It felt good, so I kept going. I’ll be out of the shower in two minutes, and I’ll just throw my hair into a ponytail. Unless we’re going out, then it might take a little longer.”

“I thought we’d stay in.” He held up the small shopping bag so she could see it. “I have a present for you, but not until you’re all clean.”

She eyed the bag with a small smile playing at her lips. She wanted to grab it, he could tell, but she managed to control herself. Even went so far as to put a bored look on her face. But he wasn’t buying it. She wanted to know what was in his bag.

He waved her off. “All clean, and I’ll be right there to be sure you didn’t miss any soapsuds in your hair, Carissa-girl.”

“Yes, Daddy.” She hopped around and ran off down the hall to the bathroom. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of the door slamming and the water starting up right away. His little girl had no patience, which was fine for him at that moment—he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her, either.

After following the aroma of burnt coffee to the kitchen, he turned off the machine that had begun to burn the last remains of coffee in the pot and headed to the bathroom.

She was humming a tune he didn’t recognize when he entered the small bathroom. Carissa wasn’t much for fancy decorations, which was only one more thing he adored about her. Simplicity rang through her entire apartment: a small basket sat on top of the toilet tank with some washroom essentials, two bathroom rugs, and a soft lavender shower curtain to match. A hair dryer hung off the side of the counter, and a flat iron lay on the sink—unplugged, he was relieved to see.

“You all washed up?” he asked, closing the door to keep the room from getting cold. The mirror was steamed up from the shower.

“Yep.” She pulled the shower curtain to the side and peeked out, her hair stuck to her head and her wide eyes meeting his. The girl looked downright angelic.

“Let me see.” He put the bag down on the counter and grabbed the curtain from her then pulled it open even farther. “Yep, all wet.” He smiled at her. “Are you wet everywhere?” he asked, giving a pointed look at her sex.

She nibbled on her lip and nodded.

“Hair is all washed, good. Turn off the water for me,” he directed and waited until she complied before giving her further instructions. “Now put one foot up on the edge of the tub.”

Giving him a confused look, she went about obeying him, placing her hands on his arm to keep her balance.

“Now, let’s see if you washed everywhere.” He reached lower and slid his fingers through her folds, delighting in the little gasp she gave. “Good girl, you’re all wet.” He continued to stroke her, taking care to brush only across her clit and not put any real pressure on the swollen nub. She arched her hips, trying to get the little bit of release, but he wasn’t ready to give it to her yet. They had a whole afternoon of fun to get through before she dove into that oblivion.

“No, don’t.” She slapped at his arm when he pulled away. One look from him, though and she bowed her head with something that looked like contrition though he doubted she felt it truly.

“You’ll get to come when I say, and not a second before.” He eased her foot off the edge of the tub and reached for a towel. “Let’s get you dried off so you can try on your present.”

“You got me clothes?” The way she scrunched her nose up when she asked the question made him laugh. Such honest reactions.

“One piece in particular. Come one.” He wrapped the towel around her and tucked in the end then took a smaller towel and squeezed out her hair, leaving it mostly wet.

He led her to her bedroom, after snagging the bag on the way.

“Did you enjoy your run?” he asked as he pointed to the bed for her to sit.

“Yes.” She watched the bag as he dangled it from his fingers.

“If I look in your panty drawer, will I find panties, or will I find thongs?” He placed the bag down on the dresser and traced the knob of the drawer with his finger.

“Mostly thongs.”

“I would prefer it if you don’t wear thongs. I like my girl to wear something a little more covering.”

“You don’t like thongs? Every man loves thongs.”

He laughed. “I do, and sometimes I’ll want you to put one on, but unless I do, you aren’t to wear them.”

Her eyebrows furrowed.

“What did you have in mind?” She eyed the bag.

He handed it to her, letting her explore the contents on her own. He’d had to order them, otherwise she would have been wearing them from the first moment she agreed to be his and only his.

Leaning against the dresser, he watched her take out the garments wrapped in tissue paper and unwrap them in her lap. Panties, white cotton panties.

She unfolded the first one in the pile and looked at the words written on the back, that would display across her beautiful ass.

“Good girl.” She looked up at him. He lifted his chin, indicating he wanted her to look at the second bundle in the bag.

Putting the one she was holding in her lap, she unwrapped the next few pairs and held up the pair. A soft pink blush crept up her neck and covered her face. “Bad girl?”

“Let’s hope you won’t be wearing these very often.” He moved to sit beside her on the bed and took the pair from her lap. “You’ll only wear these when I tell you to, and understand that if you’re wearing one of these, a spanking is coming in short order.” Folding the pair, he took from her hand he placed it on the pile neatly.

“And these?” She gestured to the good-girl pile.

“These you’ll wear whenever you want—or when I ask specifically.”

“You’re taking away my thongs?” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pinched together. If she was trying to look tough, she failed miserably. The girl couldn’t look anything but adorable when she fought against the pout trying to escape.

“No, I’m not taking them away.” He brushed a strand of wet hair from her forehead. “But I like the idea of you wearing your good-girl panties for me.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed a response. Nothing too snarky, he was sure of that, because her eyes had already begun to dilate. She wanted to wear the panties, too. His mind worked, turning over images of what she would look like standing in the corner, her arms folded behind her and the round, perfect globes of her ass covered in white cotton displaying the words bad girl. Fuck. How would he actually discipline her in that situation if merely the mental image made his cock harder than steel?

“Okay, Daddy.”

His eyes nearly crossed at the softly spoken words.

“Such a good girl for me today.” He smiled and grabbed both piles of panties and took them to the dresser. “Let’s see how good you can be for Daddy. Take off your towel.”

She stood up, hands clenching the top of the lavender towel. Her wide, beautiful eyes latched onto his gaze as she slowly, tormentingly so, untucked the towel and peeled it away from her body. As the towel fell away, he took in the deliciousness that stood before him. Perfectly balanced curves, heavy breasts, taut stomach, and thick, rich thighs.

“Now, lie on the bed and spread your legs for me. I want to see your pussy on display.” He didn’t move, and he wouldn’t. Not until he was ready to devour her. Any sooner than that, and he’d lose his resolve to go slowly, to enjoy every second of her submission and obedience.

Those acts alone stroked him as hard and with as much passion as her hands could, and if he didn’t take the time to enjoy it, to soak in the energy she gave him, the afternoon would turn into a mindless fuck.

And he didn’t want a mindless fuck. No with her. Not with his Carissa-girl.

* * *

Carissa moved back onto the bed, keeping her eyes far away from his while she got into position. His stare too intense, too powerful for her to hold for very long. He’d bought her panties. Not just underwear he could have picked up at any store off the street, but special panties.

“Spread your legs,” he repeated when she still hadn’t done so. She dropped her hands to her sides and peeled her knees apart, letting them fall to the mattress.

Exposed. She was completely exposed to him. Chancing a glance, she found his eyes no longer locked on her face but on her sex. And he looked hungry, like a man who hadn’t been fed in years.

“Do you touch yourself, Carissa? When I’m not here to do it for you, to give you that release?” The question came low in his gravelly voice, but she didn’t sense any irritation or disappointment.

“Be honest, always be honest with me, Carissa-girl.” He spoke as though he could read her worry, her very thoughts.

“Yes, Daddy.” She looked down the length of her body to where he stood, at the foot of the bed. Between her legs, but not touching, not even close to touching her. And she wanted his touch, his fire, his heat.

“Show me.” The command came darker, like his throat was too dry to talk. His eyes never left her sex.

Her stomach fluttered at the idea. She’d never done that before, never allowed a man to see her touching herself.

She reached between her thighs, lightly touching her lower lips, avoiding any contact with her clit. If she touched herself there, she’d be too greedy with need to follow his words.

He moved from his spot to the side of the bed, sitting down beside her but still watching her fingers work over her sex.

“That’s not how you fuck yourself, little girl. Now, show Daddy the real way.” He reached out and trailed a thick finger down her collarbone, through the valley of her breasts, and farther down still, over her belly. When he reached her thigh, he dragged his finger to her knee and rested his palm there, keeping her legs open while he watched her fingers dance over her pussy.

She slid two fingers between her folds, finding herself soaked for him. He hadn’t even touched her, but her body knew to be ready, to take him, to give to him, to obey him.

Biting down on her lower lip, she managed to keep her groan in when her fingers reached her clit. No longer able to deny herself, she circled the engorged nub and pressed harder down on it while lifting her hips.

“That’s my girl. Be a good girl for me.” His fingers tightened around her knee, and she shoved two fingers into her passage, rubbing her clit with the heel of her palm.

Her heated passage clenched around her fingers. Her eyes closed, and she turned her face away from him, thrusting her fingers into her body while pushing her hips upward. She gasped as her passage became wetter, thicker with her own arousal, her own need.

“Oh, Daddy. Please.” She opened her eyes and found his. He was watching her, and she grabbed his arm with her free hand.

“What is it? What do you need from Daddy?” He lowered his face, coming closer, his nose almost touching hers. But his lips were too far away. She wanted to taste him, to kiss him while she stroked herself because she couldn’t stop. Not now, not with his warm hand moving from her knee to her thigh, holding her leg against his. Not with his hot breath washing over her face while she panted. There would be no stopping.

“I need to come. Oh, God I need to come!”

Keeping one hand on her thigh, his other came to her breast and played with her nipple. Gently at first, but then harder, pinching and twisting.

“I haven’t said you could. And good little girls listen to their daddies.”

“Please!” She slowed her thrusts, gentled the pressure on her clit because anything else would have shoved her headfirst into the very explosion he seemed set on denying her.

“Almost. But not yet.” He smiled. An evil, dry smile that made her both angry and excited at the same time. He wouldn’t leave her dangling for long. He took too much pleasure in her finding her release, but she wasn’t sure how long she could be good for him.

And she wanted to be good for him.

He moved his hand from her thigh, trailed it down to her sex, and covered her hand with his own. “Keep fucking yourself.” He ordered and pinched her nipple harder.

She thrust her hips upward, wanting his touch, wanting him.

“You’re being such a good girl for me today.” He lowered himself, moving to where he could wrap his lips around her nipple, replacing his fingers.

The new sensation, the wet, soft texture of his tongue running over her now-tender nipple nearly undid her.

“Oh!” She arched again, biting hard on her lip to try and contain the orgasm that threatened to take away her good-girl status at any second.

“Please, I have to,” she begged. She wasn’t above it, not at that moment. Paradise hung so close to her, and it was only his word that kept her from diving into it.

The hand covering hers pressed down harder, putting more pressure on her clit. When she tried to slow her fingers, he put pressure there, too. “Fuck harder, faster. Come unraveled for me. Come for me, Carissa-girl.”

She moved her legs, spreading herself wider, and pushed in with more force.

“I want to hear you come,” he whispered against her nipple. “Come for me, Carissa-girl.”

His hand pressed harder, her fingers dove deeper, and with one more nip of his teeth around her nipple, she arched off the bed and cried out. She still held onto him with her left hand, digging her nails into skin as the immense waves of her orgasm spun her from reality. She could hear him, hear his words of encouragement, riding her through the orgasm, but none of it registered. The soft tone of his arousal and approval covered her, softening her landing as the pulsations around her fingers eased.

Air came harsh, and she gulped it in. Her fingers slid from her passage, but her hand stayed where it was. He continued holding her there and didn’t seem likely to move.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said, leaving her breast and kissing her lips. She moaned into the kiss. His lips pressed hard against hers, and as she opened to him, inviting him in, he pulled back and smiled down at her.

He gripped her wrist of the hand she’d just found her pleasure with and brought it to his mouth. Parting his lips, he took her two fingers inside and twirled his tongue around them, sucking the digits clean. She swallowed, enjoying the vision almost too much.

When he finished, he dropped her hand to her belly and moved off the bed. He made quick work of unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. She watched, fascinated by the amount of control he possessed over his body. His cock looked ready to burst when he dropped his boxers, but he’d waited. He hadn’t taken any moves to find his own release.

He fished a condom from his wallet and tore open the package. Her throat dried as she watched his strong fingers roll the latex down his thick cock.

“Keep your thighs open,” he ordered and climbed between her legs. As if she’d close herself off from him after the explosion he’d just caused. It may have been her fingers doing the work, but it was him, all him who made her orgasm the mind-altering event it was.

He wrapped his hand around his thick shaft, positioning it at her entrance. She gripped her thighs with both hands, watching as he pumped his cock.

“Such a good girl for Daddy.” And although he’d already said that, had already told her how much it pleased him, the approval, the pride threaded in his tone made her smile, made her chest expand with pride.

He looked ready to thrust into her, but he could read her body better than she could. He eased into her passage, moving slowly and letting her stretch around him. She’d already come, already been shattered into a million pieces. Her clit still sensitive from her orgasm, her entrance still recovering from the explosion just moments before, but everything calmed beneath his touch.

He rocked over her in slow, deliberate thrusts. His hands splayed out on either side of her head, his face only a breath away. His eyes bore into hers, but she didn’t look away this time. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. He was a man in possession of what was his, and she didn’t want to see anything other than that look of ownership, that look of pride in his eyes as he ground his pelvis into her. Not too much, not too little, the perfect amount of friction against her clit.

The pressure built again, he thrust harder, faster. His eyes never left hers. His guttural sounds of pleasure filled the space between them. Her own pants were lost in the air, mingling between the sound of the light creak of her mattress and his low groans.

“Come for me again, Carissa. I want to feel you come.” He dove deeper into her, pressing his body against her clit. She arched upward, taking him, wanting everything he could give her.

She didn’t think coming again was possible so soon after a hard orgasm had ripped through her. His words, his tone, the way he seemed to own her with just his stare brought her to the brink and, with one more hard thrust, she opened to him. Another mind-bending release taking her away and letting her see the tenderness with which he fucked her, the sweetness of his possession and the passion of his desire.

He moved his hand to grip her hip and pushed harder into her. His breaths coming faster, his groans more animalistic. As the waves subsided within her, he groaned and stilled, finding his own release and pumping his seed into her body.

He let out a long breath and rested his forehead against hers. His hot breath mingling with hers.

“I probably could have forgone the run today,” she whispered after several silent moments stretched out between them.

He laughed and slapped her hip. “Yeah, you probably could have.”

Slipping from her body, he moved to her side, pulling her to cuddle beside him. She could feel his seed spilling from her, knowing she should get up and clean up, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, again reading her thoughts. “I’ll take care of everything if you’ll only give over and let me.” A kiss pressed against her forehead.

And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around her, his heart pounding beneath her ear on his chest, she could see doing it. Doing exactly what he asked, giving over completely, for more than just a set amount of time.

But what scared her, what made her mouth dry with fear, was that she not only could see it—she wanted it.

Chapter 9

“My father has invited us over to dinner on Sunday night,” Jamison said over an impromptu dinner of pizza and beer. His girl did not know how to keep a fridge stocked. He’d tried to rummage up something for them to eat, but only found several containers of leftover take out and some eggs.

“Your father?” She seemed to blanch a bit at the mention of his father. Given her thoughts on any longstanding relationship between them, he supposed he could understand, but meeting Baron Croft, wasn’t the same as meeting your lover’s father. It was business.

“He’s trying to convince me to join him in a new venture. It’s just a business dinner, really.” He took a pull of his beer. Her kitchen was a bit cramped. He tried to scoot his chair back a bit more to get comfortable and knocked into the pantry door.

“You don’t get along outside of business?” she asked, picking off the sausage from her piece of pizza. She’d asked for sausage pizza when he suggested it, and at first, he thought she’d changed her mind. But she picked off all the sausage and ate it last, after she’d eaten the slice.

“We don’t really talk other than business.” He shrugged, putting his beer back on the table. “Just his way.”

“And your mom? You haven’t mentioned her.” She popped a round bit of the spicy meat into her mouth.

His stomach tightened. It had been almost two decades since he’d seen his mother, but still the mention of her could make his body twist.

“I haven’t seen her in a long time. She and my father divorced when I was about seven.” Divorced is the legal term but abandoned is more accurate.

“Oh.” He watched her expression, looking for pity. Most woman who knew he’d grown up without a mother quickly saw that as a reason for his over protective nature, a reason to show him how much a woman could love a man. They wanted to heal a part of him that didn’t need healing, but not Carissa. That one little word had been her response, and there wasn’t anything lurking behind it. Like she understood, she got it, and didn’t see anything to feel sorry for.

“She didn’t fight for custody? I mean your father is a big guy to go up against, but there wasn’t a fight?” More curiosity than pity laced her tone. Hope, maybe. Did she hope, like he had for so many years, that his mother at least had fought for him before walking away emptyhanded?

“No. She decided motherhood and being my dad’s wife wasn’t what she wanted, and she walked.” He grabbed his beer and took another swig. He’d gotten over his mother’s betrayal years ago.

His father, distant and cold, hadn’t given him much notice really but he’d made sure he had an excellent education and everything else he needed to grow up successful.

“What about you? Your parents still married?”

She gave a laugh.

“No.” She picked at the label on her beer bottle. “Last I heard from my dad, he was living somewhere in Texas. New wife, new life. But that was years ago. Who knows where he is or what he’s up to? Not much of a settler.” She gave him a smile, but it didn’t quite touch her eyes. He didn’t see sadness, and he didn’t suspect that she wanted any more pity than he did over her broken home.

“How about your mom? She still lives in Chicago?” He wasn’t sure what made him press her about her parents. She didn’t look very comfortable about the topic—any more than he was, but he needed to know more about her. He wanted to know all her bumps and bruises, everything about her.

“Yeah. Well, the suburbs. She lives out in Carpentersville with whichever current boyfriend she has.” He could make out the distaste she had for her mother in her tone. “We don’t see each other very often. It’s good. We’ve never been very close—she’s lived a bit of a nomad’s life, and I preferred to be settled. When she left the city to head out to the burbs with one of her boyfriends, I grabbed the first apartment I could find and stayed put.”

“What about nursing school? Did you do that here in the city?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Worked my ass off to pay for what I could. With student loans and a grant or two, I was able to get through.”

He imagined her working herself to the bone in order to provide a life for herself where she didn’t need to depend on a mother who seemed to not be there for her.

“A lot of stepdads run through your childhood?” He wasn’t sure what made him ask that question. He’d had a few stepmoms in his life, but they mostly ignored him like his father did once the rings were exchanged.

“Not dads, just men. Mom’s still looking for her Prince Charming I think.” She smiled again and shook her head a little. “Funny. We both grew up with our parents broken, but only one of us still thinks relationships work.”

His chest tightened. “Relationships work with two people who put in the effort.” He hadn’t meant to sound hard, but there it was. His mother didn’t try, and his father didn’t try with any of his wives. But he would. Fuck. He’d give everything he had to make it work with the right woman. Even if she still didn’t believe in relationships.

“Your mom never tried to explain?”

He huffed. She changed the topic, but that was fine. They were making progress, even if she couldn’t admit to it yet.

“No, she just left. Never said a word, never sent a card or called.”

Carissa furrowed her brow and took a sip of beer. “Then how do you know she just up and went? I mean, you were seven—how did you know what was really going on? Maybe your father didn’t let her come around. He’s not exactly a nice man.”

He should have felt insulted. Wouldn’t any son feel at least annoyed if his girlfriend said something like that about this father? But she wasn’t wrong. His father was calculating and cold. If he wanted something, he took it. If he needed something, he took it, and he never gave back or gave at all unless it benefited him in some way. Even when it came to his son.

“You know my father?” he asked, more curious than insulted.

“No, not really. Garrick’s mentioned him a few times. He never came across as a real warm guy.” She blushed. “I didn’t mean to insult him—or you.”

He leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. “No, you’re right. He’s not a good guy. All business with him.”

“Would you want to talk with your mom if you knew where she was?”

Why was she pushing the subject of his mom? The woman had walked out on him and never looked back. He stopped wishing he could talk to her again before the first pimple popped up on his pubescent face.

“You think my father paid her off or something? To stay away?” He let himself laugh over the idea. “As much as my father loves to win, I doubt even he would do that.”

She lowered her gaze. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“I don’t know.” What would he even say to her after all the years she’d been gone from his life? Could they even have a conversation that wouldn’t leave a sour, bitter taste behind? “What about your father?”

“No. I’m better off on my own. But I know where I stand with both of them. You have this unfinished part of your childhood,”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He laughed. She’d struck a nerve, though.

As if sensing the subject was getting too hard to keep light, she asked about meeting his father.

“He wants Garrick and Jade to be there, too. Like I said, a business dinner. He wants to build a hotel here in the city, and he wants us to go in on it with him.”

“Don’t you already own half the city?” she questioned then popped the last bit of sausage into her mouth.

“No, far from it. I own little shares in a variety of businesses and clubs. I work with my father on real estate deals, but we’ve never done something like this before.”

“Hmm.” She nodded and picked up her plate. “You done?” She reached for his, and he handed it to her.

He watched her take the plates to the sink and rinse them before putting them in the dishwasher. When she opened the door to the dishwasher, he noticed a few other plates with dried remains of food.

“When’s the last time you ran that thing?” he asked, coming up behind her and pointing out a dish.

“If it’s not full, I don’t run it.” She shrugged, pushed the shelf back in, and closed the door.

“That reminds me. The coffeemaker was on when I got here. It was burning.”

“Oh crap.” She picked up the carafe and studied it. “It’s still okay.” She flashed him a smile and went about setting it in the sink and filling it with water.

“How many have you ruined doing that?” he asked, suddenly annoyed at how little she seemed to pay attention to minor things like food and her safety.

“Just two.” She winked and finished cleaning up the last of the pizza then put the box in the fridge alongside a few other containers.

“Carissa, you’re a nurse. You have to know this isn’t a healthful way of living.”

She sighed, a heavy I-don’t-want to-talk-about-this exhale. “As a nurse, I understand it, but as a nurse who often works double shifts, or odd shifts, and who doesn’t have a lot of time to cook, I understand the necessity.”

“So, if we went over to Jade’s apartment, we’d find the same thing?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged as she told that lie.

“Where’s your computer?” he asked. It was time she let him take care of things for her, especially since she wasn’t going to do them for herself.

“In my bedroom, why?”

He didn’t answer, just marched off down the hall and grabbed the laptop, brought it back to the kitchen, and sat at the table. She stood behind him as he logged into his Peapod account. He’d used the grocery delivery service plenty of times. He had a cleaning service for his condo, but he didn’t have a cook, so he understood how hard it was to get to the grocery store some weeks.

“What are you doing?”

“Going grocery shopping,” he said and pointed to her chair. “I’m going to give you my login, and once a week I’d better see you put in an order for groceries. Real food. Fruits, veggies, snacks.”

“Your account? I’ll open my own.” She tried to take the laptop from him, but he brushed her hands away.

He turned in his chair, cupping her chin and lifting it until she looked at him. “Little girls obey their daddy, don’t they? They do what they are told, even if it’s not what they want. Right?”

“This is different.” She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

“No. It’s not. If left up to you, you’d be eating ramen noodles and takeout every night. You’ll use my account. What do good girls do when their daddy tells them to do something?”

He watched her throat constrict when she swallowed. “They listen to him.”

“That’s right. And when Daddy is taking care of you, what do you do?”

She took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy, this Q&A, but it was necessary.

“I let you.”

“That’s right. Now, I’m going to put an order in. It will be delivered tomorrow. I know you work during the day, so I’ll have them do a drop-off. It’ll be here when you get home.”

“Can’t I put in the order?” She sounded a little pitiful. He brushed his lips across hers and released her chin.

“Nope. You can put in the next one. This one is going to be a bit big. I want to be sure you have everything you need.”

She looked ready to argue, but she leaned back in the chair and turned her attention to the computer screen. “Can I at least get ice cream, Daddy?” she whispered when he clicked off the dairy tab.

* * *

Two days later, Jamison poured over projection reports and quotes from various builders and contractors. He hadn’t even started looking at the real estate proposals to buy out the buildings they would need to knock down to make room for his father’s grand hotel.

Since Carissa had questioned him about this mother, he’d found the idea of maybe looking her up drifting in and out of his mind.

Carissa had a good point. His father could have very well kept her away on purpose. Though he couldn’t think of any reason the man would do that. He’d always seen himself as a bother to his father. One more thing to take care of, or rather hire a staff member to take care of. He’d never shown much interest in Jamison until after he graduated with his MBA and started moving into the business realm. Then he’d had a purpose, and a man with purpose was held in high regard.

Once Jamison had decided to break out on his own, to not follow his father’s shadow around, his purpose had become less. Which meant Jamison himself was less needed. He hadn’t completely broken from his father’s company; he still worked on projects with him. Now that he had his own money, he was able to contribute as an investor as well. He still didn’t see an ounce of fatherly love or approval, but at least he had some purpose to him again.

That idea brought it back to Carissa. She’d written off her parents. She didn’t hold onto them, trying to wedge herself into their lives and make them see what an awesome person she’d turned out to be. She didn’t need to; she already knew it herself. She didn’t need or look for their approval. Her confidence came from herself, from her own self-worth—she didn’t need it to come from anywhere outside herself.

Which made it so much sweeter when she blushed at being called his good girl, or when she looked up at him to see if he approved.

Fuck. She was getting under his skin, more than he was prepared for. What if she walked away after the month ended? What if he couldn’t get her to understand they could make it long term, that he would be her daddy, her lover, her everything if she would just let him in. He’d never hurt her, and he’d fucking lay out anyone who tried. He wouldn’t walk away like her father and all the men her mother seemed to parade through her life.

“Mr. Croft, your father’s on his way in,” a hurried voice rang through the speaker of his phone as his door flung open.

“Father.” He sat back in his chair. “I’ve seen you more in the last week than I have in the last six months.” He was sure Baron could hear the sharpness of his tone. Though he doubted the man would address it. He looked to be on a mission again.

“You’re looking at the reports. Good.”

“Yes. Garrick and I are meeting at the location this afternoon to take a look.”

“Good. Good.” He clapped his hands together.

“You could have just called.” Jamison steepled his hands over the reports.

“I’m heading over to have lunch with Victoria, and I decided to stop in.”

“Victoria?”

“A woman I’m seeing. It’s not serious.” He waved a hand through the air. No woman was serious to his father. “I wanted to be sure you were still coming to dinner tomorrow?”

“Yes. We can talk about the project then.”

“Good. Good,” he said again and rubbed his hands together.

“Are you going to tell me why this is so important? Why this sudden change in business and so fast?”

Baron walked over to the windows behind Jamison’s desk and looked out at the city. “I’m getting older, Jamison. And I’ve realized all I’ve done my entire life is buy and sell, buy and sell. I haven’t left a real mark on anything. There’s nothing to leave behind that shows I was here.”

Jamison turned his chair to get a better look at his father, hoping maybe he was joking. Nothing left behind? Could a son not be enough?

“You want to build this hotel because you want to leave your name on something when you die?” His jaw clenched.

“I want to leave my stamp, yes.” When his father turned back to him, Jamison saw something—something he’d seen a thousand times in his father’s expression but always ignored. He’d seen the coldness, the disconnect between the two of them. No matter if Jamison did this project with him, he’d never been seen as his mark on the world. He could own half the city—hell—all of the city, and his father would still not see him as an extension of himself. He’d still just be his son.

Baron Croft was all about himself. And nothing, no amount of success would change that. Jamison talked himself into believing he didn’t care about his father’s opinion, that he didn’t need his approval to make himself worth more. But it had been just talk. Now, seeing the amount of joy his father took in thinking he was finally going to leave his stamp on the world with a fucking building, he realized what a liar he’d been to himself.

“Since you’re here, I have a question for you. It’s about Mother.”

Baron’s jaw clenched, but otherwise his expression remained passive.

“What could you possibly want to know about that woman? She walked out on you, on us both.” Baron shook his head, but something felt off this time. He’d said the same thing over and over throughout the years—she’d walked out on them—but this time Jamison noticed the shift of his gaze when he said it.

“Why? I mean throughout the divorce, she never said anything?”

Baron cleared his throat. “We didn’t see each other through the divorce. I’ve told you this. She left, and everything went through attorneys. I never saw her. And she didn’t want to have any rights to you or visitations either.”

Well-rehearsed sentences. Jamison had taken them for gospel over the years, but the little hesitations, the tiny shift in his stance sent doubt barreling through Jamison’s memories.

“Right.” Jamison took a deep breath. Baron wouldn’t be very forthcoming, and would opening old wounds really get them anywhere? How much good could it do for Jamison as a grown man?

“Well, Garrick and I will have an answer for you at dinner.” Jamison stood and closed the folder. “I’m sure your lady friend is waiting for you.”

Baron Croft’s expression softened, as though he noticed the change in Jamison, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Yes. She probably is.” Baron walked around the desk, not giving another glance toward his son. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then.”

Baron walked out of the office, quietly closing the door behind him and leaving Jamison in the silence of his thoughts.

* * *

Being the son of a multi-millionaire was cliché in Jamison’s book. He’d spent most of his adult life trying to break out of that box. He didn’t play the party boy role most of the other sons seemed comfortable with. Even Garrick had taken his turn in that role for a summer, but Jamison had never bothered with it.

Yet, there he stood on the corner of Wells and Walton, looking at small block of businesses his father would have to purchase in order to build his tower. Acting the dutiful son didn’t fit him well, either. It made his stomach turn. A family-owned grocery store, a boutique, and an unmarked building—his father would be putting them out of business.

“Jamison.” Garrick stepped out of a cab and up onto the curb with him. “Is this the block?” he asked.

“This is it.” Jamison nodded. He pulled the collar of his coat up to fend off the chilled air whirling around them. He’d spent most of the day in his office finishing several projects he’d been ignoring while trying to build a foundation with Carissa. This was his last stop before heading over to pick her up for their evening.

“It’s not a bad location.” Garrick nodded and stepped out of the way of a small group of women walking past them. “I mean, it’s within walking distance of Michigan Avenue. The El and all the museums are pretty easy to get to from here. He picked a great spot, actually.”

“Yeah. I’ll agree with you there.” Jamison stuffed his hands into his pockets and watched as a young woman, no older than eighteen, struggled to manage a large overstuffed bag and a baby bundled in blankets as she walked up the steps to the unnamed building.

“Those could be apartments. They might not want to sell.” He nodded toward the young girl who barely managed to ring a bell located on the side of the glass door.

“I’m sure your father will figure out a way,” Garrick stated with less admiration than sarcasm in his tone.

“He’s obsessed with this project. His way of leaving his stamp on the city.”

Garrick gave him an incredulous look. “Baron Croft will never see anything past the nose on his face. He’s an idiot, Jamison.”

“Yeah. It’s not like you haven’t told me that before. But I guess it took hearing it, or rather seeing, really seeing him as the man he is instead of the man I desperately wanted him to believe it too.”

“You gave him the benefit of the doubt all these years. But it’s good to see you finally realize you’re doing just fine without his stamp.” Garrick shook his head. “Stamp on the world. A hotel will accomplish that?”

“Who knows. But you know, Carissa said something the other day that made me think. She asked me why I believed my father’s story about my mom just leaving us. What if she didn’t? What if he kept her away?” Jamison had been thinking about that scenario more often than made him comfortable. He’d gotten over his mother’s abandonment years ago, but the idea that maybe she hadn’t done it, maybe she did want him, had resurfaced.

“Carissa was probably deflecting something you asked her, right?”

They’d been talking about her family, and she had changed the topic a few times. “We were talking about our parents.”

“Her parents aren’t worthy of conversation.” Garrick’s tone hardened.

“You knew them?”

“No. I met Carissa through Jade. So not until they were in college. But I saw the mess her mother made of her, the mess her father had put her in.”

“She said her father was somewhere in Texas.” Had she been lying to him, hiding things from him again?

“He probably was or is. That asshole caused all sorts of trouble for her when he lived here. Always trying to use her to get some sort of government aid. Tried to claim he was a single dad. Once he snatched her from her mom, kept her for a month trying to get housing or some shit like that. When it didn’t work, because Carissa let it slip that she lived with her mom, he dropped her off on the corner of her street and drove away. From what I could tell, that was the last time she saw him. He called a lot looking for money, though.”

“And her mom? She made is sound like she’s a bit of a revolving door.”

Garrick laughed. “Yeah. Gail is like that. Meets a guy, moves in with him right away, breaks up, and starts over. It’s her way. She’s never done much good for Carissa, but at least she never tried to use her or hurt her.”

“No wonder the woman doesn’t think a relationship is possible. She’s never fucking seen one.”

“I told you. Black and white—that’s just how she thinks.”

“You know, you sound very much like a big brother. You aren’t going to give me trouble about her, are you?” Jamison and Garrick had never argued about women, or really discussed them much until they both found themselves with someone important to them.

Garrick laughed. “Fuck no. From what Jade said, you’re exactly what that little brat needs. And besides, she helped me get Jade’s head on straight when I needed her assistance. I’m pulling for you to win this little battle. Jade also told me about the expiration date.”

“You shouldn’t let your girl gossip.” Jamison tried to sound firm, but weren’t they doing that exact thing?

“It’s not gossip when it’s true.” Garrick pulled the collar of his jacket up around his throat. “Don’t look at me like that. Those are her words, not mine.”

“You’re getting soft.”

Garrick shrugged. “You’re still coming over tonight, right? Jade hasn’t seen much of Carissa since you two started seeing each other, and she asked me at least a million times this morning to make sure you let her come over.”

“A million?” Jamison quirked an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean. She’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to Carissa, and she swears you’re keeping her locked up somewhere.”

“I assure you, as much as I’d love to have her locked up anywhere, that’s not the case. She’s been working insane hours and volunteering. Don’t they see each other at work?”

“Different shifts this week.” Garrick waved down a cab. “It’s cold as fuck out here. I’m heading home. Jade’s probably already cooking.”

“I’m on my way to Carissa’s. I doubt she even ate today let alone cooked anything,” he said. The shipment of groceries had been delivered the day before, but he wasn’t positive she’d done anything with them except put them all away. She’d grumbled the entire time they talked on the phone that night about how many groceries he’d ordered and how she was never going to be able to eat it all.

Garrick laughed, opening the door to the cab that pulled up in front of them. “Not like you to be so gentle with your woman. Guess she’s got her hooks in you.”

“Guess yours does, too, in you. Make sure you tell Jade you’ve relayed her message, and I will bring her friend to her with no delays.”

Garrick’s expression darkened. “Now I’ll have to make sure she can’t sit for dinner, to repair the injury you’ve just inflicted on my manhood.”

Jamison let out a burst of laughter. “Like you weren’t already going to do that anyway!”

Garrick flashed a smile and got into the cab. “True enough.” He shut the door.

Chapter 10

“Who knew you could actually cook?” Carissa leaned against the counter next to Jade, who was chopping lettuce.

“I’ve cooked before.” Jade shot her a nonplussed look, scooped the lettuce into two hands, and dumped it into the bamboo salad bowl.

“Yes, I believe I’ve enjoyed such entrees as macaroni and cheese—the powder variety—and hamburger helper—in which you substituted ground turkey for the beef. Such a culinary success you’ve been.”

Jade laughed and placed a ripe tomato on the cutting board.

“Okay, so I don’t usually cook, but it’s not that hard. We’re just having spaghetti and salad.”

“That’s my Jade.” Carissa laughed and walked over to the wine rack. She’d give almost anything to have a glass of pinot with dinner, but she wasn’t sure Jamison would allow it. He hadn’t said she couldn’t have any wine ever; he had just said that one night she couldn’t. And they were heading into the playroom, so that made perfect sense. This was just dinner with friends.

“Grab a bottle. I’ll have a glass, too,” Jade said.

Did she need to ask? He hadn’t given her any actual rules about alcohol, and he had said going out with her friends for a glass of wine or two was fine with him.

Feeling safe, she grabbed a bottle of Pino and shuffled around for the wine opener.

“What are you looking for?” Garrick stepped up behind her, startling her.

She took a deep breath and waited for her heart to stop pounding. “Your wine opener, you big ninja.”

Garrick laughed and took the bottle from her hands. “Here. I’ll open it for you girls.”

Jamison walked in, sporting a curious expression, moving his gaze to the wine rack.

“Garrick’s opening a bottle of wine,” she stated.

He moved closer, brushing his lips across her forehead. “Only one glass tonight.” He tweaked her earlobe.

“Dinner’s about done.” Jade wiped her hands on a dish towel and nodded toward the salad bowl. “Just need to add some dressing.”

“Carissa, bring some wine glasses out to the table for us.” Jamison directed and picked up the ceramic bowl of spaghetti.

She nodded and gathered up four glasses then followed him to the dining room.

Garrick had a spacious condo near Michigan Avenue which lay like a blanket outside the walls of windows. The sun had already set, and the city lights made a beautiful backdrop for their dinner.

Although the condo was in one of the best locations in the city, Garrick never went over the top with spending or showing off his obvious wealth. The dining room with a view of the gorgeous skyline outside the windows was simply decorated and gave off a comfortable vibe. Most likely because over the years of their friendship, Garrick had listened to Jade’s decorating advice more often than not.

“You’ve been quiet this evening,” Jamison remarked as he poured the last glass of wine and placed it near a plate.

She had said little since they left her apartment. She’d been doing some investigating on his behalf and was brimming with excitement to tell him about it. But she couldn’t yet.

She’d tracked down a close friend of his mother’s. Finding his mother’s name wasn’t hard thanks to Google and his father being such a large business presence in the city but finding her wasn’t turning out to be so easy. Every avenue she pursued led to a dead end. It was as if the woman had simply poofed into thin air. But she’d finally gotten a response back from another socialite woman who Carissa had seen in several photographs with both his parents. She’d responded to a Facebook message she sent and told her she’d be calling her tomorrow. Carissa wanted the woman to answer her questions right then through the messenger, but the message had come in during her shift. She’d have to wait until they could talk on the phone.

“Just tired, I guess.”

“Maybe an early bedtime is in order, then.” He flashed her a grin. Such a handsome grin he had; she could almost forget for a moment their relationship came with an end date.

“Only if you promise to tuck me in properly,” she teased.

Garrick and Jade entered the room carrying the salad and bread, effectively cutting off Jamison’s response, though the little crinkle on the side of his lips gave away the deviousness of his thoughts.

“So.” Jade sat next to Garrick on one side of the table while Jamison and Carissa took the seats opposite them.

“Yeah?” Carissa grabbed the salad bowl and passed it directly to Jade across the table.

“No salad?” Jamison asked.

“Not in the mood,” Carissa answered and reached for the bread basket. She waited to hear another lecture on her poor eating habits, but he didn’t remark any further.

The conversation moved easily between the foursome. Having been friends with Garrick and Jade for so long made the dinner comfortable and sitting beside Jamison accentuated that level of relaxation.

“Looks like we’ll be having dinner with Jamison’s dad on Sunday.” Jade brought up the exact topic Carissa had been blocking from her mind for the past hour.

“Yeah.” Carissa took a long swallow of her wine, careful not to finish it off since she wouldn’t be having another.

“You ready for a long business discussion, which neither of us will understand or care about?”

“Sure.” Carissa shrugged and took another swallow, nearly draining the glass. “I’m sure it won’t be too boring.”

“Of course, it will be,” Jamison promised and placed a scoop of salad on her plate. “But don’t worry. It will be a short conversation. The project he wants to do looks like a great investment. We’ll eat, give him the news he wants, and then head out after dessert.”

“You liked the location, then?” Jade asked.

“It seems like a great place to build a hotel. And from what my father tells me, the small businesses on the block have already started to accept his bids for purchase.”

“Where is it?” Carissa asked, shoving the tomato from the salad away from her pasta. She didn’t want to get into another discussion about her eating habits. When he’d picked her up, he’d gone straight for the fridge to be sure she’d actually put the groceries he’d ordered away. He didn’t like the container of leftover Chinese from her dinner the previous night but was happy with her when she said she’d brought her own lunch to work and had eaten it.

He was even happier when he made her turn around and flipped up her skirt to see her panties. Of course, she’d remembered to put on the good-girl panties he’d left and had even been wearing them to work. She couldn’t explain it, but knowing he’d given them to her, that he expected her to wear them, made her feel held by him. Walking around during her shift feeling a little bit of him was with her the entire time.

Since he was in such a good mood, she didn’t want to divert the conversation to anything that lead them in the direction of an argument.

“The location is at Wells and Walton. There’s one building that wasn’t marked, so I’m not sure what it was. I didn’t see any acceptance of bid from that address in the stuff father gave me, either. I’ll have to ask him about that one.”

Her fork stilled halfway to her mouth, a bit of pasta falling off the end and back onto her plate.

“Wells and Walton?”

“Yes, why?”

“Oh. No,” Jade whispered and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“That’s the shelter I volunteer at. It’s a women’s shelter, so it’s not marked, you know, to protect them from the general public knowing what it is. So bastard men can’t find their wives and try to steal them back.” Carissa could hear the anger in her own words.

“Really?” Garrick asked with raised brows.

“You can’t do the project. You can’t let your father do it either. Find somewhere else to build your damn hotel.” She turned on Jamison, giving him a hard glare. Her heart raced. That shelter could not be torn down so more rich and powerful men had a comfortable place to lay their heads.

“Watch your tone and your language,” Jamison responded, which only served to spark her ire.

“My tone? Are you really concerned about that right now? You cannot do that project!” She threw her fork down on her plate.

“Carissa,” Jade whispered. “Give him a chance to answer.”

“You’re going to tell him no, right?” She pressed.

“This conversation sounds a bit familiar to me,” Garrick spoke up and gave a pointed look at Jade before speaking to Carissa. “How about you let him get his mind wrapped around this before you go biting off his head. You know, the same advice you gave Jade when she thought I was screwing her father out of his rental properties.”

“This is different.” Carissa didn’t take her eyes off Jamison, who was staring at her hard. He looked furious, but she wasn’t going to back down. “Promise me.”

“Why is that shelter so important to you? I know you volunteer there, but they could simply move it. It might not be shut down.”

Her heart leapt into her throat, her anger nearly choking her. “There are women and children who depend on that shelter! They like it right where it is, and it’s been supporting that community for fifty years. Turning it into a fucking hotel is...is...” she couldn’t find the words, her tongue too thick, her anger too hot for the words to come to her. “Stupid!” She slammed her palm on the table, making the plates jump.

“Why don’t we change the subject.” Jade suggested. “I’m sure the guys will look everything over and do the right thing.”

Of course, Jade thought Garrick would, but what about Jamison. He still looked to his father for approval. Would he be able to put a stop to this project, knowing how much his father wanted it to happen?

“Carissa.” Her name was said so low, with such control, her body clenched. “Kitchen, now.” He pushed away from the table and grabbed the back of her chair, tugging it out from the table.

Before she could utter a word, his hand wrapped around hers and pulled her from her chair.

“It’s okay, Jamison. She was just caught off guard.” Jade attempted a rescue mission, that might have worked if Garrick had still been only her friend and not her dominant.

“Stay out of it, Jade.” Garrick’s voice was soft, not chastising. “Jamison will handle the situation. We talked about this.”

About what? Her?

“You talked about me?” Carissa yanked her hand out of Jamison’s grip and faced Jade full on. “What were you talking about?”

“Nothing.” Jade shook her head quickly, but her cheeks had already tinted. “Really, Carissa. We only said that we were happy you two met.” That wasn’t the whole of it, but before she could question further, Jamison had his hand around her arm.

“I’m not asking again. Kitchen.”

“Oh fine!” Carissa yanked her arm free once and stomped off toward the kitchen. If everyone wanted to talk about her like she was some damn child, then she might as well give them the show they were waiting for.

Once she walked to the far end of the kitchen, where she hoped Jade and Garrick wouldn’t be able to hear much of whatever Jamison was going to say to her, she turned around to face him, arms crossed over her chest and her lips pinched together.

“Oh, little girl, whatever fit you’re getting ready to pitch, you’d better think twice. We may be at a friend’s house, but they know damn well what happens to naughty girls. And Garrick won’t let Jade come in here to save you from your punishment.”

He was right. Garrick wouldn’t. In fact, he probably already had Jade out of the dining room so as to give them even more privacy.

“You wanted to talk in the kitchen,” she said. “We’re in the kitchen.” She couldn’t keep her voice from tightening, but she managed to keep the volume down.

The little crinkle that usually formed on the side of his lips when he found her amusing was missing. No laughter danced in his eyes. Hard and unyielding, he stared at her from only two steps away. His presence took her breath away when he was simply looking his casually handsome self, but now, as he stood before her in full daddy mode, she found herself dropping her arms from her chest and fumbling with the hem of her shirt.

It took only a look from him to take her from her stubborn platform and place her in the soft mindset that would probably give in too easily to whatever he wanted from her.

“What is it about this shelter that has you so wound up? I know you volunteer there, but you have to know if they were to sell, they’d probably open up somewhere else. So, what is it?”

She dropped her gaze to his chest, finding it easier to talk to that part of him than look him in the eyes when she spoke.

“It’s nothing. It’s not right to close it down. I’m fine.”

The air from his heavy sigh moved her hair. “What did I say about that word?”

Oh. Yeah. That.

“You didn’t like the word.”

“I told you not to use it anymore. And I told you no cursing, but you’ve done both. And you raised your voice to your friends and to me. Do you think this is how a good girl behaves?”

Her stomach twisted. Couldn’t they just go back to having dinner. Now that they were away from the table she’d calmed. She’d talk to him. He’d see the right of it; she could trust him. Jamison would do the right thing. He wasn’t his father. Money didn’t mean everything to him.

“I didn’t mean to raise my voice.” It was really the only concession she could give.

“You’re keeping something from me, and I don’t like it. Especially since it’s making you be so rude and disobedient.”

“I said I was fine—uh—okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry I raised my voice. I’ll apologize.” She tried to walk around him, to get away from the punishing stare of his eyes, but he caught her around her middle too easily. Hauling her toward the fridge, he picked her up and put her on the countertop.

“You were naughty, and you’re still being evasive.”

“And you are ruining a nice evening with being all—all—ugh!” She went back to crossing her arms over her chest. She’d already fallen into her softer side, and it was hard to pull herself out to argue with him when he continued to hover over her with such darkened eyes.

“I’m going to ask you once more, what is going on?”

She clenched her eyes closed and shook her head. “We can talk later.”

He sighed again, a disappointed sound that tugged at her heart. She just didn’t want to talk about his father, not yet, and not that evening.

Bottles rattled when he opened the fridge, and she opened her eyes to see what he was up to. He stood in front of her with hot sauce in his hands

“What are you doing?” She tried to keep her eyes off the bottle of heat, but she kept glancing at it. “Are we done? Can we go back to dinner?”

“No. Your naughtiness hasn’t been addressed yet, and you’re still in the middle of your little fit.”

Maybe he’d never seen a fit before, but it didn’t usually happen without screaming and crying.

“You can’t spank me here. They’ll hear!” She gave a pointed glance toward the dining room door.

“I have no intention of spanking you—right now, at least.” He held up the bottle again. “Besides, why make your ass pay for the sins of your mouth?”

“W-what?”

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue, Carissa-girl.” He unscrewed the cap of the hot sauce.

“Why?” Stupid question. She knew what he was going to do, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

“Because I said to, do it now.”

“Promise me you won’t do the project.” It might not be the right time to bargain, but nothing gained if not asked.

“We’ll talk about that later, as well as a few other things. Right now, we are addressing your foul language and your yelling. Now do what Daddy said and give me your tongue.”

She looked at the bottle again then at him. No cracks to be seen in his resolve. He meant it. He was going to do it. Of course, she could cry her safeword. He’d screw on the cap and take her home. But it would damage them, and weren’t they already damaged enough just by being them?

Prying her lips open, she slipped the very tip of her tongue out toward him.

“Open wide and tongue all the way out.”

“You know, if I suck your cock after this, it’s gonna hurt you, too.” Last-ditch efforts were rarely done with good taste or any grace.

“Didn’t I already explain that you can’t lead me around by my dick?” he retorted. “Now your mouth has gotten you extra time.” He wiggled the bottle in the air. “Tongue. Now.”

Carissa managed to fight off the eye roll and open her mouth, sticking her tongue completely out in as clinical a manner she could muster.

Her eyes nearly crossed as she watched the bottle tip and small droplets of red-hot sauce sprinkle onto her tongue. The burn came slowly, but as the liquid heat rolled over her tongue it spread, became more intense.

She hated spicy food, and this was hotter than any taco she’d ever eaten.

“Now, you hold that like that until I say otherwise. Do not swallow. Do not spit it out. And put your eyes on me.”

She whimpered but managed to look up at him. The hard edge of his eyes had softened. Her obedience, although slow in coming, had taken away a bit of his ire.

“When I ask you a question, you are always to be honest and direct. We’ve already had that conversation, but maybe after this you might remember better. And you don’t raise your voice, and you don’t curse. Do you understand me, Carissa-girl?”

She wasn’t enjoying his pet name anymore. At first, she’d found it endearing, but he only seemed to use it when she found herself in trouble. It had the effect of making her feel small and chastised without him even bending her over his knee.

“Yes, Daddy,” she said, but with her tongue sticking out as it was, it came out all mumbled and weird.

“Good. Almost done now. When I allow you to swallow, you’ll stay right here, and when you’re ready to tell me what’s going on with your attitude, I’ll give you a glass of milk.”

She whimpered again. Her taste buds would be ruined! The intensity died down, but the heat continued to linger and when she moved, even slightly, the sauce would creep along her tongue, a drop already sliding down her throat, leaving a trail of fire in its path.

“Are you going to be a good girl now?” he asked while screwing the top back on the hot sauce bottle.

“Yes, Daddy,” she said again, feeling even more foolish because of how garbled it sounded when she spoke.

“Okay, you can swallow.” He placed the bottle on the counter next to her.

She pulled her tongue back in and swallowed the horrible liquid. “Augh!” she groaned. “My throat burns now, too,” she complained, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

“Now, tell me what’s going on.”

She threw her head back and sighed. “That shelter was there for me and my mom when we needed it.”

“When your mother left your father?”

“How do you know about that?” She hadn’t told him, hadn’t gone into that part of her history.

“Garrick filled me in on a few things.”

“Of course, he did. He’s as meddlesome as Jade.” She glared at the door leading to the dining room.

“We’re talking about you right now, not him.” He tugged on her earlobe to get her attention again. “Tell me.”

She closed her eyes and sucked in a long, sharp breath. “It’s not horrible. He wasn’t some crazed drunk or anything like that. He was irresponsible and selfish. When my mom told him she was leaving him, that he had to get out, he drained the bank accounts thinking she’d have to stay. But she took me anyway. We left. We went to the shelter. They helped her get a better paying job, helped her find housing that she could afford that was in a decent neighborhood with decent schools.”

She didn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to see the pity that would be there. “My father came around a few times, trying to get back with her. But really, he just needed a place to stay until he got another job or found a new woman to latch onto. Once he took me. He woke me up and pretended we were going to school, but he didn’t take me to school. He took me to some rundown apartment on the south side. He wouldn’t let me call my mom. He took me to a government agency. He wanted to get housing assistance, food stamps, and all that stuff. With me, he could get more than what they were going to give him for just himself. But I messed it up. When they asked about my mom, I told them the truth. He dumped me on the corner of our street and took off. The shelter had a legal department that helped Mom finalize the divorce and get the court to grant her sole custody—not that he fought it. He just signed me away. But if it wasn’t for that shelter, Mom wouldn’t have been able to do that. She wouldn’t have gotten a decent job.”

His jaw clenched as she spoke, and, by the time she’d finished telling him, a pulsating tick in his right cheek had taken over. But she wasn’t done telling him everything. If he wanted it all, he was going to get every bit of it.

“Your father, he bought a building when I was in high school. A high rise near Boystown. A friend of mine lived there; a few of the apartments were low income housing. Your father managed to get that overturned and bought the building, raised the rents, and evicted my friend. She and her mother moved back into the shelter until they were able to find them another place to go.”

“That sounds like my father.” Bitterness laced his tone. “That’s why you said he isn’t a good man. Why you think he may have had more to do with my mother walking out?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t tell him about her upcoming phone call. If it turned out to be a dead end, she didn’t want him to hurt. More than anything she didn’t want him to.

He stepped up to her, his body brushing her knees. Instinctively, she opened her legs and brought him closer. His hands captured her face, and he brought his lips down on hers. A soft kiss. Short and sweet.

“I’m sorry for what you went through. And I’m sorry for what my father did. He’s never had much of a heart, unfortunately. Why didn’t you tell me any of these things?” He pressed his forehead against hers.

“I wasn’t ready, I guess.” Would she ever have been? She’d never told any of her boyfriends about her time living in the shelters. Only Jade really knew her whole past—and, apparently, Garrick.

“You don’t have to come to dinner on Sunday, if you’d rather not. I understand.”

She pulled away from his grip and studied his face. Expecting to find pity and surprised to find none. She wouldn’t tolerate pity, not from him not from anyone.

“Of course, I’ll go. I’ll even behave.” She smiled.

He laughed. “Oh, baby, I’m not sure that’s even possible.” He wiped his thumb across her bottom lip. “Would you like some milk now?”

She’d all but forgotten the burn in her mouth. “Can I have a glass of wine instead?”

“Nope. I have some rewarding and teaching to do with you when we get home, so no more wine.”

“Okay, milk, then.”

“You guys coming back or what?” Jade called from the dining room.

Carissa laughed, and Jamison helped her off the counter. She left him pulling a gallon of milk out of the fridge and walked toward the dining room.

“Keep your pants on, Jade,” She called. “At least until we leave.” Which, hopefully, would be soon. The idea of lessons and rewards held much more appeal than whatever Jade was serving for dessert.

Chapter 11

“Your place?” Carissa asked when Jamison continued to drive down Lake Shore Drive.

“Yes, if that’s okay? I didn’t think you’d want Mr. Buschmann to possibly overhear your spankings.”

“Spankings?”

He nodded but didn’t look at her. He was still processing everything in his mind. She’d been a child and had to deal with so many grown up things. The shelter was obviously very important to her, and now that he knew about it, he wouldn’t allow it to be bought out or torn down.

What she told him about his father hadn’t been uncharacteristic but seeing someone who had been directly affected by his father’s lechery, his greed, someone innocent like Carissa’s friend made his gut twist into a knot.

“Well, that might be overstating, and I don’t like giving you all the information up front, but I’m pretty confident there will be at least one spanking. You weren’t a very good girl at Garrick’s during dinner, where you?”

“No, Daddy. But we talked in the kitchen.”

He nodded. “Yes, we did, and you needed a good dose of hot sauce to cool that mouth of yours, but you still have a consequence coming for being so naughty. I expect you to take your punishment like a good girl, so we can move on to more fun things afterward.”

She shifted in her seat and looked out the window. His little girl gave him so many signs of her arousal and pleasure, he wondered how no man before him had picked up on them.

“You aren’t working tomorrow, right?”

“No, I’m off ’til Monday and then my new shifts start. Monday through Friday, morning shifts seven thirty to three-thirty. It’s going to be awesome. And I get to work with all those babies.”

Her excitement bubbled up through her voice; he couldn’t help but smile.

“You like babies?”

She cleared her throat and fidgeted in her seat again. “Yeah.”

“So, you want kids, then?” He’d never really pictured them in his future. After having such a cold upbringing by his father, he didn’t want to continue that cycle, but talking about the subject with Carissa didn’t give him an intense chill in his spine.

“I don’t know. I never really thought too much about it, I guess.”

Except her hands were rolling and unrolling the hem of her shirt.

“I’ve never really thought much about it either,” he said, pulling into the parking garage of his building. “We don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not.” He had fun plans for them when they got inside, and he wanted her relaxed, not all twisted up with anxiety.

The overhead lights of the garage played across the cabin of his car, throwing her into a shadow before illuminating her beauty. She smiled with genuine relief.

“Yes, please. Let’s talk about something else.”

Pulling into his parking spot, he threw the car in park and turned to face her. The leather seat squeaked with his movement. “I need you to know that you can tell me anything. Nothing you say is going to make me think less of you or see you in some dark shroud.”

A few strands of hair fell in front of her face, and he brushed them away. The soft warmth of her skin beneath his fingers was enough to ignite his desire for her. Hell, just her being in the same city as him sent his cock into steel-rod mode.

She didn’t speak, only looked at him with wide eyes. Whatever her past was, it wasn’t easy. No, this girl staring back at him with a mixture of confusion and surprise had never been held simply for the sake of being held. She’d never known a man she could lean on and not fall flat on her face. But he’d fix that.

“I do. I do know that,” she said turning her gaze down to her lap. “I’m just not used to it yet.”

“I know, but you will be. Now let’s get inside.”

He helped her from the car and held her hand through the parking garage to the elevator. As the they rode up to his floor, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on her head, enjoying the sweet smell of her shampoo.

Carissa kept quiet the entire ride up to his condo, and even after they had stepped inside, she did little but look around in amazement.

“Let me have your coat and purse. I’ll put them away.” He brushed her hands away and went about unbuttoning her winter coat and pulling it free of her arms.

“Does your condo take up the whole floor?” she asked finally.

“Yes. It’s actually the top two floors of the building.” He closed the closet door and picked up her hand again, lacing their fingers together. “I have an office down there.” He pointed down a small corridor as he walked them to the stairs. “The kitchen is here, the dining is off the other side, and this is the living room.” He explained the open layout.

“Two floors?” She looked up the length of the staircase. Cherrywood stairs led up to the second-floor bedrooms.

“Yep.”

“Is this one of your father’s buildings?” she asked as he led her up the stairs. He felt her hand stiffen in his when she asked the question, and it became clear they would need to settle the issue of his father before he could get her to relax enough for what he planned.

He didn’t answer the question, letting the sound of her shoes clicking on each stair be the only noise. Leading her into his bedroom, he released her hand and went over to his dresser.

Home decorating wasn’t his thing. He couldn’t care less if the dresser matched the bed, or the vanity. Or if he even had a damn vanity. His decorator had bought one and said it came with the set and a complete necessity and, since he was too busy and too bored, he just let it go.

“Holy shit,” she exclaimed and ran past him to the windows. The bedroom overlooked the lake which at night wasn’t that impressive, but Navy Pier could also be seen especially during the winter months when they were having their Winter Festival.

“Language!” he chastised and marched over to her. He slapped her ass twice.

She jumped and rubbed her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she muttered and pulled the sheer curtains open. “But your view is awesome.”

The look of pure amazement covered her features, and he couldn’t help but smile. The woman wasn’t just beautiful, or pretty—everything about her was beyond words. There was no description for her. Perfection simply couldn’t be described.

“Come here.” He grabbed her hand and led her over to the bed. “Sit down here on the edge.”

Once she was sitting, she folded her hands in her lap and looked up at him with waiting eyes. “What is it? You look so serious.”

“I want the air cleared between us. I wasn’t going to push, but it has to be dealt with. I want you to tell me everything. Tell me what made you so quiet on the way to Garrick’s?” He pulled an armchair from the corner over to the bed, sat in front of her, and placed his hands on her knees.

“I thought we came home for fun. If you want to ruin the mood for that—”

“It’s my job to take care of you, and us, and the longer this festers inside you, the darker you feel, and the bigger this gap I sense between us will get. And I’m not going to let that happen. Now, if you’d like some incentive to get your mouth moving, I have my own bottle of hot sauce in the kitchen, or maybe I should pull a finger of ginger out of my fridge?”

“Ginger?” Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No, please, never ginger.”

He wanted to laugh when her cheeks blushed, and her lips pressed so tightly they turned white.

“I won’t, so long as you behave like a good girl. Now, out with it.”

Carissa looked away, back to the windows.

“Carissa-girl, I don’t like repeating myself and I don’t like when you hide things from me. I’m not asking again.” Deepening his voice seemed to get her attention.

Her shoulders dropped a bit, as well as her chin.

“It’s a surprise,” she whispered. “If I tell you, you’ll ruin it.”

“The surprise is for me?” He felt the corner of his lips tug toward a smile. She looked too adorable at the moment for him to get angry at her attempt to keep something from him.

“Yes, Daddy.” She nodded.

“Is it dangerous? Are you doing something I wouldn’t like?” He couldn’t help the worry in his tone. Although he knew how intelligent and capable she was, the woman still thought she could take on the world all by herself.

“No, it’s not dangerous. I promise.” She looked up at him then, her eyes wide and her lips wet from her tongue running along them.

He narrowed his gaze and nodded. The sinking sensation in his stomach warned nothing good was going to come from her surprise, but she appeared genuinely excited about it.

“Okay, I won’t press you on it. Are you still angry about the project? Are you still worried about the hotel?”

Again, she nodded. “Your father really wants you involved.”

He pulled her chin until she focused on him. Fear and anger mixed in her gaze. “Carissa, I’m not going to join this project, not unless he agrees on a new location. The shelter is not going to be shut down. You have my word.”

“Your father will do whatever he wants. It’s what he does.” She pulled free from his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, letting her have a moment to snuggle into him and settle her panicked mind.

Silence stretched out between them. She played with the collar of his shirt and let out a few ragged breaths.

“I’m not broken,” she finally said. Her voice cracked, and her fingers clenched on his chest. “I’m not like this because of my childhood.”

Jamison covered her hand with his. “What do you mean like this? Do you mean wanting a daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“The why doesn’t matter. This is how we work, this right here. You snuggled up on my lap and letting me comfort my little girl. I don’t care why. I only care that it makes you happy—that it makes us both happy. But I do care if someone hurts you.”

She took a ragged breath, one that caught in her throat.

“I’m not hurt now. My mom is who she is; there’s no changing her. I take what I get, and I’m happy with it. When I was little, I was confused. I didn’t understand why my dad left me like that, why mom was with a new guy all the time, but when I grew up, I understood. It made sense. They were broken. But I’m not.”

Jamison stroked her hair while she talked but didn’t interrupt.

“Do you see, though? Do you see why relationships don’t work, and kink relationships really can’t work. We’ll grow tired of this. It’ll get too hard.”

She said the same words as before, but the sincerity didn’t match.

“It will always be worth it, but we aren’t having that talk yet. Two more weeks before you can bring that up again, understood?”

“Yes, Daddy.” She nodded, her head bumping his chin.

“Good. Your friend, the one my father evicted. Did she and her mother find a new place? Did they do okay?”

“Yes. The shelter helped them, and they were in a new apartment before the end of the school year.”

If Baron Croft hadn’t bought that building, another developer would have. Jamison knew that, but it didn’t take the sting out of what she’d told him. While he grew up in a house fit for royalty, being ignored and annoyed by his careless, narcissistic father and whatever wife he had at the time, Carissa had struggled to help provide stability for her own life and for her mother. And girls just like her were doing the same.

The level of respect he held for his father sank ever lower. If that were even possible.

“How do you know who bought the building? Doesn’t seem like something kids really think about.”

“He bought a bunch in the area. His name was plastered all over the construction sites where he was renovating. A lot of my friends ended up in the same situation. Their parents were put out of work, and the rents were raised above anything actually affordable. Your father and other people like him ran them out like rats and put up shiny new things in their place. My mom lost her job, but we were living farther north so we were able to keep our place. She was lucky and found a new job pretty quickly.”

Hadn’t he been helping his father do the very same thing since college? He’d never once asked or thought about the areas they developed. Or wondered who lost their homes because of the prime real estate they happened to be sitting on.

Did that make him as self-centered as his father?

“It’s not going to happen this time, Carissa. I swear to you—that shelter is not going to be bought by my father’s company.” He blew out a long breath. “No wonder you didn’t want to date me at first.”

“That was stupid of me. I should have known, anyone who could brush my hair with such gentleness, and could give me such a mind-blowing orgasm and not expect anything in return, couldn’t be like your father.” She snuggled deeper into his lap.

They sat quietly for a moment. He was almost afraid to move and ruin the moment. Almost.

“I have a present for you. Do you want it?”

She bounced and, when she gave him a big grin, a deep dimple he hadn’t noticed before appeared on her left cheek.

“Of course, I do!”

“Okay, sit down, and I’ll get it. I left it in my drawer because you swore, and I had to give you that little spank.”

Her brow crinkled. “I’m sorry about that, Daddy.” A fresh blush blossomed over her cheeks.

“Sit right there.” He plopped her back on the bed and went back to the dresser.

After sorting through his sock drawer, he found the little envelope and brought it back to her. She took it from him and tore into it, pulling out two tickets.

Her eyes went wide, and her lips pulled up into a large grin. “You got us tickets to see Pink?” Excitement filled her voice and her expression.

“I noticed her music is all over your playlists, so I thought you’d like to go.”

“Like to go? Are you insane? I’ve tried to get tickets every time she came to town, but either it’s too expensive or it’s sold out.” She jumped to her feet looking at the tickets again. “Wait.” Her smile dropped.

“What’s wrong?” He stepped to her and plucked them from her hand looking for an error.

“These are for March thirteenth.”

“Right. That’s her opening night in Chicago.”

“March thirteenth is after our—I mean, we won’t—you know.” Her cheeks reddened, and she avoided his gaze.

“We won’t what?” He was being patient, but two weeks had already passed, and she’d made progress. Once he had her in his arms, she melted, completely relaxed into him. Buying the tickets may have been wishful thinking, but dammit—he deserved to wish for it, and she did, too.

“You’re pushing,” she said, tossing the envelope on his dresser. “If we are still together. If we decide to continue on, then you can ask me to go with you, but I don’t want these now.”

He dragged his hand through his hair and sighed. “Fair enough, I guess.”

“Yes. It’s fair.” She nodded with another smile bursting onto her expression.

“You may have won this round, but there’s the next one you’ve yet to get through.” He tucked the tickets back into his drawer and placed his hands on her shoulder. “Take off all your clothes and bend over the bed, I want that curvy ass of yours in the air.”

“Was I a naughty girl, Daddy?” She flashed him a coy smirk.

“Oh, the very best kind of naughty. Now, get to it,” he said as he moved his hands to his belt buckle.

Chapter 12

Carissa moved quickly, shucking her clothes and getting into position. He wasn’t angry about the tickets, which shouldn’t have surprised her. He wouldn’t overwhelm her with demands.

The sound of his belt being pulled through the loops of his pants made her cheeks clench in anticipation. He was going to punish her, and it would hurt, and then he’d kiss it all better.

“Hands out in front of you, Carissa-girl.” There was the endearment again. He seemed to use the nickname whenever he wanted to put her in the right frame of mind, either for punishment or for play. And it did the trick. She instantly felt herself go soft, ready to yield to him and whatever he had planned for them.

“You were a naughty girl at Garrick’s this evening, weren’t you, little girl?”

The buckle of his belt jangled as he folded it in half. She could feel him behind her, his eyes on her naked bottom, watching her wiggle with anticipation.

“When we go to a friend’s home for dinner, you are expected to behave.” Not giving any warning, or speaking another word, he pulled back and snapped the belt against her bare bottom.

She rose up to her toes and buried her face into the mattress to cover her yelp.

“You won’t yell at Daddy or stomp, or throw your fork, or any other rude things,” he said, laying two more swats in quick succession across her backside.

“Yes, Daddy!” She cried out when the belt came down again, covering the same spot as the last stroke.

“You’ll be well behaved, or you’ll find yourself with my belt painting your ass like this. Every. Single. Time.” He enunciated his words with a sharp swat of the leather strip.

“If I ever have to take you into someone’s kitchen to calm down a hissy fit again, you can be sure there will be much more than this, little girl.”

A streak of fire ran across her ass, and she reared up, but she didn’t wiggle away, didn’t kick her leg or try to avoid him. He was right. She’d acted like a complete brat.

“I’m sorry, Daddy!” she cried and gripped the comforter until her knuckles turned white.

“You behaved well after we talked, so you aren’t getting a full punishment.” One harder swat crossed her thighs and the belt clattered to the floor.

She wasn’t crying, but tears did build up in her eyes.

“Don’t move, Carissa-girl,” he said from behind her. His hand was on her in the next moment, running over her sore ass. “You did good. You took your spanking really well,” he soothed.

She pushed her ass upward, hoping he’d stroke her where the fire really burned.

“Daddy, please,” she whispered and arched her back more.

He chuckled from behind her, moving his touch from her cheeks to inside of her thigh, trailing up from her knee to where she needed his touch most.

“Does my little girl need Daddy?”

“Yes!” She spread her legs wider apart, knowing she looked like a complete beggar, but she didn’t care.

“Do you want my cock?” He slipped two fingers into her passage, and she hissed with the slight relief his presence gave her.

“Please.”

The shuffling of clothes was his only response, but then his hands were on her, cradling her hips, his thick cock pressed between her ass cheeks.

“If Daddy wanted to fuck your ass, what do think you’d do?”

“I’d let you,” she whispered, burying her head into the bed. She’d never attempted that, but she’d always wanted to. It seemed so taboo, so new and exciting.

“Good to know.” He pulled her cheeks apart, running his long shaft up and down between them. “Maybe soon.” He released her, and his cock moved to her entrance.

He didn’t plow into her like she wanted. Instead the head of his cock pushed at her entrance, enticing and teasing her.

“Please, Daddy!” she finally begged him. “Please.”

He chuckled again. “So greedy tonight.” He thrust hard into her, and she jerked forward from the sudden movement.

“I need you,” she said as he pushed into her again, the bed squeaking beneath the force of his movements.

He stilled, lying across her back and bringing his mouth to her ear. “Daddy will always give you what you need. Always.” With that vow, he pressed his lips to her temple. “I think my little girl needs it rough tonight.”

“Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes and taking in his words, his presence.

His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pinning her to the bed. “Hold still for me, Carissa-girl.”

The next thrust nearly took her breath away, but it only took a few strokes of his thick cock to not only leave her gasping for air but begging for release. Her clit ground into the edge of the mattress as he continued to plow into her, rolling his pelvis as he met her ass.

The bed rocked. She took a small step to stay with it as he continued to fuck her harder than she could recall ever being fucked. She tried to raise her head, but he still had her pinned.

“Such a good girl. Fuck.” He growled and thrust again. “Come for me, Carissa-girl. Do what you’re told and come hard for me.”

She didn’t need much more than that. The pressure softened on her neck, and he pressed his mouth to her ear. “Now, Carissa. Come now.” It could have been the gravelly tone, or the soreness of her ass as he continued to press into her that sparked the wick. Not that it mattered. Her body knew who it was to obey; her body understood damn well that it no longer listened or followed her orders. It only craved and desired him.

“Jamison!” She lifted one leg onto the bed, not to get away, but to take him in farther, to feel every inch, every thick, delicious inch of his cock as he fucked her through the harsh pulsations of her orgasm.

He drew his nails down her back before gripping her hips and pulling her at him, making her meet each of his thrusts as he found his own release. One stroke, two, a grunt then her name. He yelled out her name as he stilled behind her, his cock twitching inside of her. He came hard, her pussy still clenching and wanting more of everything he offered.

She needed that. Needed the rough and the hard, and he knew it. He would always give her what she needed. That’s what he’d said. And as she lay beneath him, feeling his heart pounding against her, hearing her own beating in her ears, she felt it.

Safety.

Chapter 13

Jamison walked up the steps of the women’s shelter. Carissa had been volunteering all afternoon, but it was time to go home and get ready for dinner with his father.

The prospect of having to speak with the man about the project that had kept Carissa so on edge the past few days dragged a dark cloud over him as he rang the bell.

Going against his father in small ways hadn’t been very hard, though he’d never gone all out before. He’d refused to take over his father’s business, but he still worked for him on occasion. Was he still looking for approval? He’d told himself that wasn’t it. He was a grown ass man who had excelled at everything he put his mind to. He didn’t need his father’s pat on the back.

Yet, there he stood, waiting for his girlfriend, his chest tightening over how the evening was going to play out.

“Hey! You must be Jamison.” A young woman with short blonde hair pushed the front door open. “I’m Margaret. Carissa said you’d be coming by for her. Come on in.”

Jamison followed the woman inside. Offices were lined up on either side of the hallway, phones rang, and the click click of keys being punched filled in the spaces.

“She’s just finishing with her last group,” Mary said, glancing back at him over her shoulder. Her eyes seemed to evaluate him pretty quickly, sweeping up from feet to the top of his head.

She led him down a smaller hallway where only a few more doors lined their path. At the end of the hall, she stopped and pointed to the last door on the right. Just past the door was a short set of stairs that led to two large doors.

As he was going to thank Margaret, the doors burst open, and a woman walked through carrying a small child. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and her clothes were clean, but there was something about her, something in her eyes that spoke volumes about her past. The wary glance she gave him as she carried the sleeping toddler toward him and Margaret twisted his chest. This woman wasn’t just holding her child, she was protecting her from him.

“Margaret? I’m sorry to bother you, but Joyce has a fever. I think it’s another ear infection.” The woman’s voice was so soft, so silken compared to her rough appearance.

“Oh, poor girl.” Margaret went to her and ran her hand over the soft curls of the little girl. “The clinic’s closed today, but Carissa is here. She can take a look, I’m sure.” Margaret looked over at Jamison.

He wasn’t about to prevent that little girl from getting what appeared to be much-needed care.

“Of course.” He nodded. They’d be late. His father would be irritated, but that didn’t register as an actual concern. This little girl needed his Carissa, and they wouldn’t leave until she was finished.

The doors to the room swung open, and a handful of women poured out. Each gave Margaret a smile and greeting, but most giving him a concerned glance. Did men never enter these sacred halls? Or had they been beaten down enough that every man became a worry.

Carissa was the last out of the room, and she smiled the moment her eyes landed on his. She’d straightened her hair, giving her a sharper look. And makeup, she’d put on more than usual. It wasn’t needed, none of it. The beauty she had didn’t improve with makeup, but, regardless, the woman grinning up at him simply took his breath away.

“Hi.” He couldn’t help the wide grin that tugged his lips up, and he wouldn’t stop it if he could. She just made him happy. “I think your services are needed.” He held out a hand toward the woman and her little girl.

Carissa’s smile dropped, and she immediately went into work mode.

“Joyce isn’t feeling well?” She placed a hand on the little girl’s back and another on her forehead. “She’s hot.”

The mother nodded. “I think it’s her ear again.”

“Well, let’s get down to the clinic, and I’ll take a look.”

“Of course,” Jamison said when she looked to him before moving. “Don’t worry about the time. Let’s just get this little girl feeling better.”

Her smile softened, and her eyes warmed. “Right this way.” She gestured for the mother to follow, and they all walked behind her down a corridor then another hallway before they arrived at what she called the clinic.

It was a simple exam room with an exam table and a cabinet with supplies.

Jamison stayed outside, giving the mother and her daughter some privacy as Carissa did her exam. But they hadn’t pulled the blinds down, and he was able to see through the window on the door as Carissa took the child’s temperature. The doors could have been made out of cardboard for all the sound proofing they did. Every word came through clear.

“Yep, definitely a fever.” His girl sat and patted the toddler on her back. “We’ll take care of it, no problem.” She grabbed the otoscope from the holder on the wall and went back to the little girl. The sick child stirred in her mother’s arms, and Carissa made quick work of tugging on the little ear and looking inside with her instrument

“Wow. Red and fluid. We have ourselves another ear infection.” She patted Joyce’s head and smiled at the worried mother. “I’ll get the amoxicillin for you, but she really should see an ENT. This is the fourth infection in three months.”

“They’re going to want to put those tubes in, and you know I can’t afford something like that. Not right now.” Tears built up in the mother’s eyes, and guilt plagued Jamison for watching the scene.

Where Jamison would want to feel sorry for the situation, Carissa rose to the occasion. Seeing this woman and her child not as a charity case, but as someone who needed a little boost.

“I’ll get the name of an ENT who is not only awesome but takes Medicaid. Have you filled out that paperwork yet?”

“I have it, but it’s not finished.” The mother wiped her eyes and ran her hand in circles over the toddler’s back as she drifted back to sleep.

“Get it in. Margaret has a friend down there who might be able to expedite the papers, and once you get the insurance you take Joyce to the specialist. How’s the job search going?”

Carissa leaned against the cabinet and folded her arms over her chest. Not an ounce of pity displayed in her expression, only care and concern.

“I put in another application at a Walgreen’s and a CVS, but I haven’t heard anything.”

Carissa opened a drawer in the cabinet and shuffled the contents around a bit before coming out with a card in her hand. “Here. I don’t promise anything, but I know for a fact that doctor’s office is looking for a receptionist. I remember you telling me you worked for a dentist for a bit?”

The young mom took the card, almost awestruck. “Yeah. But that was before Joyce, two years ago.”

“Experience is experience. And as far as I can tell, we haven’t changed how we answer telephones in the last two years.” Carissa gave a brilliant smile.

Watching his girl both comfort and help the woman in need without giving her a handout or making her feel as though she was simply being pitied warmed him. She gave to this person at no gain to herself financially or otherwise more than anyone he knew—more than those who were being paid to do so.

He’d spent his entire childhood watching his father purchase buildings and turn them around to sell off to the highest bidder, and then, as an adult, did similar work. He had his hand in entertainment and clubs, but still nothing substantial, nothing that really held any real worth.

The door to the room was pulled open while Jamison leaned against the wall across the way. The mother gave him a small nod and clung to Joyce and the medicine Carissa had given her while shuffling down the hall.

Carissa came out finally, locking the door behind her. “Sorry that took so long.”

“No problem at all.” He grinned down at her, resting his hands on her shoulders and giving her a soft kiss to her forehead. “You were needed.”

“We’re going to be late for your father’s now.” She looked at the black Fitbit encircling her left wrist.

“He’ll keep.” Jamison nodded. “Let’s get your things, and I’ll text Garrick to let him know we’re running behind. If I let him show up without us there and wait with my father, he may never speak to me again.”

“I left my purse at home. I’m all set.”

He looked her over. She wore jeans and a casual blouse.

“Where’s your wallet and your phone?”

She turned around and stuck her butt out at him. “Right there.” She patted the two back pockets.

He laughed. “Okay then.”

“I just need to change my jeans for a skirt. This blouse should be okay, right?” They walked down the corridor to the main entrance.

“Everything about you is more than okay,” he responded and pulled her to a stop right outside the shelter while they stood on the front steps. “You are amazing, Carissa. I mean, I knew it before, but watching you take care of that little girl... She didn’t even wake up, and with her mom—I couldn’t be prouder of you. Of everything you do and are.” He pulled her into an embrace and lifted her chin with his hand to give her a warm kiss.

He’d meant it to be a small kiss. But once his lips touched hers, he was pulled into her. He couldn’t get enough and doubted he ever would. He swept his tongue over her lower lip and growled when reason smacked him on the head.

They were on the front steps of a woman’s shelter. Not the best place to paw at his girl. And they were already running late.

“When we get home tonight, we’ll finish this,” he vowed.

She laughed and pressed her fingertips to her lip.

* * *

Jamison climbed out of his car in front of his father’s house. Garrick and Jade waited for them.

“About time you pulled up.” Garrick reached out his hand in greeting.

Carissa didn’t merely change out of her jeans. the woman changed her outfit three times before going back to the original blouse and skirt. He’d only gotten her out of her apartment because he’d threatened to take his belt off if she didn’t just pick something. Lucky for her, they really didn’t have time for a spanking, and the little blush she’d produced with the threat had softened him.

“It’s my fault,” Carissa announced, stepping up to them.

“There was an emergency at the shelter. She was needed.” Jamison slid his hand into hers and gave it a squeeze. “Been here long?”

“No, just pulled up. After your message, I took Jade for a coffee.”

“I’m on midnights starting tomorrow,” Jade explained. “Not all of us were lucky enough to get that awesome shift up in mommy and me.”

“I know. It’s fucking awesome.” Carissa beamed but quickly realized her error and dropped her gaze. “Sorry.”

Jamison gave her hand another squeeze. “Let’s get this over with.” He nodded toward the steps leading up to his father’s home.

“Yeah. I’m letting you do all the talking.” Garrick slapped Jamison’s back as he passed him to climb the steps and gestured for Jade to follow.

When they entered the home, they were directed straight to the dining room.

“Guess we missed the appetizers,” Jade remarked from behind Jamison.

“Jamison! Garrick! Finally.” His father stood from his seat at the head of the table where he’d already begun to eat his meal. “I couldn’t wait another minute. Come sit down. But, first, introduce these lovely young ladies.” He rounded the table.

“Father.” Jamison nodded. He splayed his hand across the small of Carissa’s back. “This is my girlfriend, Carissa.” Her back muscles tightened, but he ignored it. She was his girlfriend, even if it was for only another ten days.

Grasping Carissa’s hand, Baron took a long look at her. Jamison slid his hand to her waist, giving her a small squeeze.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Carissa.” Baron shook her hand quickly and turned to Garrick. She’d been effectively dismissed. Always the businessman and never just the man, his father sought to get down to business. And in his eyes, that meant talking to the men.

“Mr. Croft, this is my girlfriend, Jade.” Pride carried through Garrick’s expression as he presented Jade. Although she smiled, it was heavy with her unease. A normal reaction to meeting Jamison’s father for the first time. He didn’t give off a warm demeanor, and he enjoyed making sure everyone around him knew he held the power.

Not the sort of thing Jade was probably used to. Not being with Garrick. He may hold more power in their relationship, but he didn’t make Jade feel any less powerful. She enjoyed belonging to him. It didn’t frighten her or make her suspicious the end would crawl around the corner any minute. Jamison could only wish Carissa would feel the same way.

“Lovely,” Baron said but barely glanced her over. “Come let’s eat. I couldn’t wait anymore.”

“I did call,” Jamison stated as he pulled a chair out for Carissa. Once she was seated, he patted her shoulder and took the seat next to her.

“Yes, but I was already hungry.” Baron looked across the table at his son, his expression blank. If Jamison had been bringing along a slew of investors, the meal would have kept perfectly fine in the kitchen until they arrived. As it was, he was merely bringing a friend and their girls. No one of consequence, even if he was attempting to drag them into his newest project.

Plates appeared before them. and dinner officially began. The conversation remained light. Small talk annoyed Jamison, but it was the only sort of conversation his father excelled at when it came to killing time before talking about business. It was his warmup before the big race.

“Everything was delicious.” Carissa complimented as she folded her napkin. She’d barely touched her chicken, and the green beans still remained piled neatly beside it.

Jamison leaned over to her. “Eat your veggies, little girl.”

Her face reddened within a heartbeat, and if they weren’t in mixed company, the shocked expression would have made him laugh. She looked ready to argue, but instead she replaced the napkin on her lap and picked up her fork. After stabbing the green bean onto her fork, she brought it to her mouth.

Jamison took a long sip from the water glass while giving her knee a squeeze beneath the table. A quick glance around confirmed he’d been discreet. He wouldn’t want to embarrass her. And although Garrick and Jade understood and accepted the dynamic he shared with Carissa, he wouldn’t want to have to explain any of it to his father, or worse have him question her.

“Well, if we’re about done, boys, we can move to my office. I have some new numbers to show you. I think you’ll like them.”

“Oh, I think we can all move to the office if you want to, but I have some concerns about this project. Garrick and I visited the site. and we found one of the buildings, the largest lot in fact, houses a women’s shelter.” Jamison draped his napkin over his plate.

“Yes, and they are giving us the most trouble. But they’ll sell. If the ladies wish to listen to us drivel on about work, of course they are free to join us.”

Carissa’s head jerked to the side, and Jamison placed his hand on her knee.

“Oh, we’ve sat through plenty of meetings at the hospital we work at, Mr. Croft. Jade and I can keep up just fine.” Carissa’s voice held steady, but Jamison could feel her tensing beside him.

“Hospital? Are you both physicians, then?” Jamison knew that tone, knew what was coming next, but before he could intervene Jade spoke up.

“Nurses. We are both nurses. We do the work doctors can’t.” The tension between doctors and nurses was well documented, and the firm thread in Jade’s voice confirmed that.

“Ah. Nurses.” Baron nodded and moved his eyes to meet Jamison’s.

A complete dismissal. A nurse held value but wasn’t the top dog. And that meant everything to Baron Croft.

“They are both excellent nurses,” Jamison stated. He wouldn’t allow him to attempt to make Carissa feel small. “In fact, that’s why we were late. Carissa was helping a little girl who had a fever.”

“I didn’t mean to imply her job isn’t important. Of course, it is. We all need worker bees, don’t we?” Baron put on a flat smile and stood “Let’s go to the office. It’s more comfortable, and there’s brandy in there.” He patted Jamison on the back as he walked past and out of the room, clearly expecting them all to follow suit.

Garrick gave Jamison a look and shook his head.

“I know. I know,” Jamison said.

“He’s never going to change,” Garrick stated.

“Why would he want to do that? He seems like a perfectly personable and loving man.” Carissa rolled her eyes as she stepped ahead of Jamison.

“Watch your attitude, young lady,” he cautioned with a slap to her rump as they poured out into the hallway. She shot him a look over her shoulder, but it was more of contrition than of irritation.

His father was already pouring brandies when they walked into his office. For the men. For the women, he poured small glasses of sherry.

Carissa and Jade thanked him then took seats near the door.

Considering the way he treated women, it astounded Jamison the man had managed to obtain four wives, much less keep them for as long as he had.

“Here are updated projections now that we’ve wrangled a few of the property owners to agree to sell. We’re still in negotiations with them for the price, but they are willing to move out.”

“The shelter isn’t willing,” Carissa said from her seat behind Jamison. He pushed his chair toward the right, affording her a better view and giving his father an idea of where he himself stood on the topic. Having her stuffed into the background wasn’t working for him. She deserved a voice, and to be seen.

“The shelter will be willing. We just haven’t found the right price. Everyone has one.” Jamison’s chest tightened when his father spoke. He didn’t even look at Carissa when he did so.

“Carissa’s right. They aren’t going to sell, and I don’t think they should.” Jamison took the reports from his father and walked over to his desk to dump them.

“Oh, they will.”

“That shelter has been there for over fifty years. It’s a part of the community.” Carissa maintained her tone, but it was starting to waver.

“Isn’t there another location you could look at?” Jade added in, and Jamison noticed how she scooted toward the front of her chair and kept glancing at Carissa. His little girl had almost everyone in the room watching out for her, even if she didn’t know it.

“No. There isn’t.” Baron’s smile dropped, and his lips pinched together in a long, thin line. His patience was at an end.

“There needs to be.” Garrick entered the conversation.

“Don’t worry about the shelter. I have friends on the city council, and they have assured me that invoking eminent domain will not be a problem if they won’t sell.”

Carissa bounded from her chair. Jade tried to grab her but missed. Jamison managed to catch her when she moved to pass him. He didn’t shove her behind him, but rather laced his fingers through hers. She needed grounding at that moment.

“You corrupt—” She took a deep breath and looked up at Jamison. Tears were building in her beautiful eyes, but not from hurt. No, his little girl was fighting back every bit of her anger. For him. She held back, for Jamison’s benefit.

She took a deep breath. “You would force the shelter to close its doors by using your friends on the board to declare the city would benefit more from your hotel than them?”

“That shelter can do its work anywhere.” Baron shrugged.

“You can build your hotel anywhere!” Although she raised her voice slightly, she didn’t yell.

His father glowered. “Jamison. Seriously, let the girls have coffee in the library so we can talk about this reasonably.”

He wasn’t sure if anyone else heard it, but there was a bit of a snap somewhere. A sharp sound signaling an official break.

“No need. It’s time we left. We’ve wasted enough time already. Father, I have no intention of joining you on this project. I won’t force that shelter to close its doors. It benefits too many people. It actually makes the city a better place, makes those women’s lives better. I won’t be part of anything that destroys that. Your hotel will be profitable. It will bring in elite clientele, I have no doubt. You’ll have your name on the front page of the Tribune when it opens, but you have never, and will never do anything that makes this world, or hell—even this city—a better place.”

When he turned away from his slack-jawed father, he found Carissa staring up at him with wide eyes. Surprise, awe, a mixture of both? She recovered much more quickly than Baron. She turned with him, switching hands to continue holding his.

“I think Jamison summed that up nicely. Thank you for dinner, sir.” Garrick put his brandy down on the side table and took the few steps to collect Jade before opening the door and leading them all out.

“Y-you’ll be back!” Baron finally recovered enough to sputter the single sentence.

Jamison collected Carissa’s coat and helped her into it, taking extra care to button her up and even put on her gloves for her—no longer caring if anyone could see. Let them see. Let them gawk, but he was taking care of his girl.

“Well, that was different than I thought it would be,” Jade said as both couples reached their cars.

“He can still get enough investors, and he does have those friends he talked about.” Garrick shoved his hands into his gloves.

“I’ll deal with him if he does.”

“You won’t be able to stop him. I’ve seen men like him. I’ve seen him and what he’s done to communities.” The sadness in her voice tore at his heart. He bundled her up in his arms and kissed the top of her head, ignoring the chill of the February air.

“I will handle this. I don’t want you to worry about it.”

She looked up at him, uncertainty lingering. “Okay, Daddy,” she whispered and pushed her face back into his chest.

He’d never made a promise before that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he could keep. But he’d never loved anyone with such ferocity before Carissa, and he’d move the Earth off its axis for her. And going up against his father could prove just as large a task.

Chapter 14

“So, how’s things with that large hunk of a man who picked you up last weekend?” Margaret grinned, displaying dimples on both sides of her cheeks.

Carissa had started her new shift at the hospital, and it had been a few days since she’d been able to make it to the shelter. She should have known Margaret would want to know all about Jamison.

“Things are going okay.” She downplayed the entirety of their relationship.

The truth? Everything was going perfectly. Too perfectly.

Jamison had slowly eased his way into her life, taking over parts of her world that she had never considered penetrable before. He wasn’t overbearing or too stubborn. He was strict, and hell, she liked that about him. She tried to put up a good front, but he saw through that right away. If he said she was getting a spanking, she got a spanking. There was no wiggle room, no backing out, no forgetting because he got busy. The man’s focus on her was uncanny.

He’d bought her a Keurig! After the second time he’d come over to her apartment to find coffee burning away in the carafe, he’d gone out and bought one for her along with a six-month supply of K-Cups because he knew she wouldn’t go out for more.

Groceries were delivered to her apartment. She filled her virtual cart and set the order, but he went in after and pulled out the garbage, replacing the items with more veggies. The first time he did it, she’d thrown a fit on the phone with him. But the sound belting she received that night for it taught her never to do that again. If Daddy said she had to have a green veggie with every meal, she was going to be eating a green veggie with every meal. But she still snuck in a box of HoHos before the cutoff time for the order.

Margaret laughed. “Okay? I saw the way his eyes devoured you. That man has it bad for you, I’d say okay passed a long time ago.”

“What do you mean?” Carissa followed Margaret down the hall to the clinic. Jamison’s stare was intense, there was no denying that, but that was his normal way of looking. Right?

“I mean that men who feel okay about a girl, don’t look at them the way he did you. He watched you like you were some goddess moving around, like you’d entranced him. And”—Margaret continued while unlocking the clinic door—“letting you stay to help Joyce? I mean, he didn’t let you stay, you would have anyway, but he insisted. He didn’t even give it a thought that it would make you two late for whatever you had going on. I’ve seen plenty of men come and go around here, annoyed their girlfriend or wife was putting volunteering in the way of their reservation at some hoity-toity restaurant or making them late for a meeting. He didn’t give it a second thought. This was important to you, and that made it important to him.”

“You got all that from a few minutes with him?” Carissa tried to brush it off. Because it couldn’t be that deep. If it was that deep, if his feelings ran that hot for her, she’d start letting the idea of not calling it quits after the month was up seep in. And she’d been doing her damnedest to block that thought. Even if she stayed up late remembering how warm his lips were on her, and wishing he’d spent the night with her. Even while she missed her elevator stop at work the day before because she’d started daydreaming about him, she did not allow the thought of forever to enter her mind.

“No. I got that from the second he saw you walk out of that classroom. You better hold on, because I don’t think this one’s going to let you walk away.”

“I don’t walk away from men.” Carissa found herself getting a little more defensive.

“No, it’s more like a run, but not with him. Don’t get upset. It’s a good thing, and I know you’ve have a legitimate reason to get rid of all the rotten ones in the bunch. But this one isn’t rotten. That’s what I’m saying.”

“So, now he’s produce?”

Margaret laughed. “Joke all you want. Now, not to change the subject by changing the subject, but I wanted to tell you I’ve got some bad news about the offer to buy out the shelter.”

Carissa tensed. It was the one topic Jamison avoided after the night with his father. Jamison had promised he’d take care of it, and every time she tried to broach the subject, he firmly told her to drop it.

“They’re still pursuing it?” Carissa pulled an inventory list from the cabinet and busied herself with work. The clinic was technically closed, and the full-time nurse had gone home for the evening. It was Carissa’s job to be sure they were well stocked for the next day and see any emergencies that couldn’t wait until the clinic opened in the morning.

“It looks like the city is starting to get on their side. We got a letter discussing eminent domain.”

Carissa dropped the clipboard but quickly picked it back up. “How can a hotel be more important that this place?”

“We aren’t a government shelter. We’re private, so we aren’t as protected, and since the city has shelters, they don’t feel we’re necessary.”

“But those shelters are being strangled by all the red tape, lack of funds, and corruption that come along with the government funding.”

“I agree. That’s why my grandparents opened this place.” Margaret hopped up onto the exam table. “We’re getting a protest together, to fight against the city council. We’re hoping to get a few newspapers and TV stations to come to a rally, force the issue into the public eye.”

“That’s a great idea. Just tell me when and where.”

“Next Saturday afternoon. Three o’clock in front of Croft Enterprises.”

“Well, count me in!” Carissa turned back to the inventory. It was going to be a very interesting conversation with Jamison when he came over that evening. Though maybe not telling him would be better.

“Excellent. I knew we’d be able to count on you.”

“Of course. This place can’t disappear.”

Margaret hopped off the table. “It won’t.” Margaret squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll let you finish up. I’m sure your man will be looking forward to seeing you tonight.”

Carissa blushed at the suggestive tone in her voice and faced the cabinet.

Jamison was planning on coming to her apartment. He did most nights.

She would bring up the subject of the protest and gauge his reaction. Then she’d decide if she was going to tell him she intended to go.

As Carissa finished unboxing some newly arrived supplies, her phone rang. Without looking, she swiped to answer, figuring it was Jamison.

“Hey, Daddy.” She smiled into the receiver.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I was looking for Carissa McAllister?” An older woman’s voice came through the phone.

Carissa’s smile fell, and she stood up straighter, as though the woman could see through the cell phone.

“Hi, yes, this is her—I mean she. I’m Carissa.” Very suave.

“Oh, good. I was afraid I’d miss you again. This is Valerie Newton. We’ve been playing phone tag for a few days.”

The woman who had been friends with Jamison’s mother. Carissa sat on the rolling stool.

“Oh, yes, hi.” She did her best to sound calm, despite the rippling of her stomach. This woman could know where his mother was. She could have answers that his father had never bothered to give him.

“You were calling about Katrina Croft.”

“Yes. My d-uh, my boyfriend, Jamison Croft, is her son.”

There was a long stretched-out silence before she spoke again. “Does he know you’re trying to contact her?”

Carissa debated telling her a lie, afraid that she wouldn’t tell her anything if she knew the truth.

“No. It’s sort of a surprise.” She paused. “His father told him Mrs. Croft walked out on them, said she didn’t want to be a mother anymore. Or something along those lines. I’ve met Mr. Croft, and he seems like a man who cares more about winning than he does about his own son.”

A heavy sigh came through the phone. “You have that part right.” Another sigh. “Katrina never wanted to leave Jamison behind, but that man—that bastard—refused her any visitation. He made her sign away her parental rights. He was a controlling asshole when they were married. When she told him she wanted a divorce, it only got worse. I don’t know what he held over her, but whatever it was—it was enough to make her sign the papers. One day she was married and a mother, the next divorced and never allowed to see her son again.”

Carissa had already guessed something along those lines had to have happened. From what Jamison did tell her of his mother, there had been no signs that she wasn’t happy as a mom.

Her alarm on her phone beeped. She needed to head home if she was going to be ready when he came over for dinner. She was going to cook for him.

“Do you know where she is now? Have you kept in touch with her?”

Another dark silence stretched out. “No. I’m sorry. I haven’t spoken with her since she left town. She never gave a forwarding address. She only told me she was moving to Indiana; I think she had distant relatives there.”

Another dead end.

“Oh.” Carissa heaved a sigh. “Well, at least I can tell him this much. His mother didn’t simply abandon him.”

“No. It broke Katrina to walk away. I think that’s why she left Chicago. Please. Feel free to give Jamison my number. I’d love to talk with him, and maybe we can find her. I’ve worried about her over the years.” Sadness tinged her voice.

“I will. Thank you for calling back. I really do appreciate it.”

Baron Croft didn’t care whom he destroyed so long as he won. Well, he wasn’t going to win the shelter. Carissa would see to that.

* * *

She burnt the rice.

Carissa stared at the pot brimming with overcooked rice, much of which had burnt onto the bottom of the pot.

As she was getting ready to throw the whole pot into the trash, Jamison walked into the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pointing to the pot she now held over her head and aimed it at the trash can.

“I burned it. Again.” She lowered her arms. “I’m going to buy one of those damn rice cookers. I can’t do it the old-fashioned way and besides, we shouldn’t be eating rice anyway. Too many carbs.” She tossed the pot into the open garbage can and put her hands on her hips.

“Well, first, watch your language, that’s the only warning you’re getting tonight. You keep letting the curses slip and I’ve been too lenient.”

Too lenient? Which relationship was he watching?

“Second, we can skip the rice tonight. I’ll get you a rice cooker if you really want one, because I love rice, carbs or not.” He moved to her side and slid his hands around her waist, pulling her to him.

She inhaled the comforting scent of his aftershave and nestled into his neck. Nothing felt more like home than when she was in his arms.

His touch was enough to put her at ease. She froze with the realization.

“What was that?” He chuckled. “You got all tense.”

Of course, she had. Her damn brain just wouldn’t cooperate with her plan.

“Nothing.” She maneuvered her way out of his embrace and went to get the meatloaf from the oven. Potatoes would have gone better with the meal, but, like he said, he loved rice. And she enjoyed giving him what he loved.

“You know that surprise I told you about?” she asked him.

“Yeah?”

She placed the hot loaf pan on the table and gave him a quick glance over her shoulder. Should she maybe lead with the protest?

“Well?” He chuckled when she didn’t continue.

She dropped the oven mitts next to the meatloaf and turned to him, pressing her ass against the edge of the table. “After you told me about your mom, I did a little digging. Nothing dangerous,” she added quickly. “Just a Google search and a Facebook message.”

His smile fell a little at the corners. “Go on.”

“I didn’t find her exactly, but I was able to get a hold of Valerie Newton. Do you remember her? She was a friend of your mother’s.”

“Newton?” His brow wrinkled. “The name sounds familiar, but my father does a lot of business with a lot of people. What did this lady have to say?” She noticed his knuckles whiten as he gripped the counter behind him, leaning back against it attempting to look casual, but she knew it had to be bringing up some emotions for him. Some unresolved hope or anger.

“Not much, really. Just that she hadn’t seen your mother since she left Chicago. She went to Indiana, but—” Carissa weighed her next words. “She did say that your mother didn’t want to leave you. She thinks your father held something over her, had something to use against her in order to make her sign away her parental rights.”

His expression darkened as he thought over her words. “I won’t lie and say that didn’t occur to me over the years. He’s not exactly used to losing and losing a custody battle even one he didn’t really want to win would still be losing. Did she have any other information?”

“No. She said she thinks your mother went to Indiana, that she had distant relatives there?”

Jamison nodded. “I think I remember an uncle who lived that way. It’s been too many years.” He dragged his left hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “You did that for me?”

She nodded, still unsure of his reaction. She hadn’t found out much, and, in the process, had managed to open a few wounds. Did that count as a success?

He moved to close the space between them and pulled her into his arms, placing a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t get very far. But she did say for you to call her. I have her number for you.”

“You did a hell of a lot more than I ever did.” He kissed her again and held her tighter. “I think I know of someone who can help us do more searching. I’ll talk with Mrs. Newton then with him.”

She peeked up at him to find the darkness fading away and a warm smile cross his face. “I wasn’t sure you’d be happy about me poking around.”

“While I don’t want you contacting people you don’t know, I’m not mad about this. You did this for me and were somewhat safe. I mean—you didn’t meet her or tell her where you live, did you?” An eyebrow shot up.

“Of course not.” She giggled.

“Good, but no more poking around, okay? I think you’ve gotten a good start, and I agree, I don’t think my mother just walked out on me. I think there’s more, and I want to find out what it was. Our dinner is getting cold. Sit down, and let’s eat.” He gave her another kiss and a pinch to her bottom before letting her go.

If he had concerns, he wasn’t showing them to her, and he didn’t seem to be preoccupied in the least. It was the perfect time to bring up her next subject, since he seemed to be in such a lighthearted mood.

“I talked with Margaret today. She said the city sent her a letter. Looks like your father is going through with his threat of using eminent domain to make them sell.”

“I know.” He let out a heavy sigh and went to the dishwasher to grab plates. “I spoke with him today. Briefly.” His voice went tight, like any second it could break from the tension. A far cry from the happy place she’d just had him.

“She said they are planning protests. This weekend, in front of your father’s building.” Carissa kept her focus on slicing the meat loaf and placing it on the plates he held out to her.

“I doubt it will do much good.” He already sounded defeated. As though the battle was lost before the first firing of the cannon.

“You think they should roll over?”

He put the plated meals onto the kitchen table and gestured for her to sit. “I didn’t say that. But they are a non-profit organization that isn’t backed by the city or the state. Seeing as there are city and state shelters throughout Chicago, they are going to have a hard time convincing the city council that they are more needed than the others.”

“They aren’t competing against the other shelters. They are trying to save this particular one from being turned into a hotel!”

“I know that, Carissa, and watch your tone.” He lifted an eyebrow and pointed to her chair again.

Sinking into it, she stared at him while he took his seat across from her. They weren’t going to get anywhere. Baron Croft was Jamison’s father. He may have taken a big step in standing up to him at dinner days ago, but there wouldn’t be much else he could do.

“They want me to join the protest. I’m off on Saturday—”

“No. Absolutely not.” He shook his head. “Those protests can get dangerous. I’ve seen them, and my father isn’t going to idly sit by and let his building become a focal point of their campaign.”

“We have every right to protest peacefully,” she reminded him. Was he really going to let his father win?

“Yes, they do. What I’m saying is my father will have the police there to make sure nothing gets out of hand. And he’ll portray them as rioters, not protesters.”

“Rioters?”

“I told you, my father is ruthless, especially when it comes to his company. He won’t let them make him look bad.”

“And I bet he has just as many friends at the damn news stations as he does on the fucking city council.” She shoved the plate away from her and jumped up from the table. Not only had his mood soured, but her own withered up and died as well.

Jamison pushed his chair back, caught her wrist, and yanked her over his lap in one quick motion. She barely registered the action until her stomach made contact with his strong thighs.

“I told you about your language and your tone, young lady.” He flipped up the skirt she’d worn for him—which she now regretted doing—and laid a heavy hand on her upturned bottom. A finger traced the words on her panties. “I think we can take these off. You aren’t being a good girl right now.” He yanked down the panties and tossed them on the table.

“I didn’t do anything!” A moment ago, he’d been so pleased with her.

“Your tone of voice has been unacceptable, and now you’re cursing again.” He delivered one hard swat to the up-curve of her ass.

“You’re avoiding the issue.” She struggled against him, but he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her immobile.

“We’ll talk about the shelter after you’ve taken your spanking and we’ve dealt with this issue of your behavior.” His hand pulled away and crashed down on her again, and again.

She wiggled and pushed and tried to avoid his heavy hand. But he was relentless.

“You were just so happy!” She tried to appeal to her earlier win with him.

“You were a good girl then, now you’re being naughty. I told you Daddy will take care of you. I promised you that, and I still mean it. And right now, that means getting the attitude out of my baby girl.”

“No!” She bucked up at him, but he easily trapped her in place with one leg. The spanks rained down on her upturned backside. He didn’t spare an inch, peppering not only her bottom but her thighs as well.

“Yes. My bad girl will learn not to talk back, not to curse, and not to use that tone of voice with me. Just because you don’t like my answer doesn’t mean you get to throw a fit.”

The punishment stretched on forever.

Tears spilled over, dripping to the kitchen floor. He wasn’t going to stop, not until she submitted, not until she had learned.

She could have used a softer tone. She didn’t need to curse and push her plate like some insolent brat. It had started out so nice. He’d been happy, had been pleased with her surprise, and then she went and ruined it all. She’d thrown a fit when she didn’t get her way.

“I-I’m sorry, Daddy!” she cried, trying to block his hand with her own. Easily captured and restrained, he continued the spanking as though she hadn’t moved.

“Almost done.” He softened the blows, but the slaps continued.

“I’ll be a good girl now.” She sniffled and yanked her hand back from his grip to brace against the floor to steady herself.

He delivered a sharp slap to each cheek then stopped. The tears didn’t, and she realized she was sobbing softly. All the anger she felt moments ago seemed lighter, nearly gone, even with a throbbing-hot backside.

She was lifted up from his lap, only to be put right back on it, though her bottom was seated on his thighs instead of her tummy. The rough denim of his jeans rubbed her, and she tried to find a comfortable spot. There is no comfortable spot for a freshly spanked bottom.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her forward until she was resting her head on his shoulder. She continued to cry, but silent tears.

“Shhh, Carissa-girl. Daddy’s here. It’s going to be okay.”

“You’re going to let him take away the shelter. You can’t stop him.” She sniffled but didn’t pull away from him. She’d been angry with him. Not his father, but him for seeming powerless.

They were facing a situation that even her daddy couldn’t fix. What could be worse than knowing he couldn’t help.

“No more about the shelter tonight,” he decreed.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed. He may not be able to fix everything, to make everything all bright and better, but in that moment, in his arms, she felt safe from everything outside of them. Daddy would take care of her.

“My butt hurts,” she whispered into his ear. “Can you rub it for me?”

He pulled back, studying her face. “I think something can be arranged.” He stood from the table, carrying her as though she were weightless.

Only when they were in her bedroom did he put her down onto her feet. He worked the buttons of her blouse, one by one, until he’d undone the entire row. She watched his face, watched the concentration and the arousal flash across his features as he unwrapped her body.

He pushed the blouse over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek as his hands cupped her breasts.

“Bad girls don’t get to have their pussies played with. Isn’t that what I said to you before?” His voice came out choked, as though the idea of not fucking her in that moment was as painful to him as her.

“Yes, Daddy.” She remembered, and she hated that he never let her come if she earned a punishment.

“And if I tell you tonight is no different. That tonight I’ll take what I want from your body, fuck you until I come and leave you completely void of any release, what will you do?”

Do? He wouldn’t, couldn’t do that to her. Would he?

“Nothing?” She tried to ignore the sensations his fingers were bringing her while he played with her nipples through the lace of her bra.

“That’s not an answer.” He chided, clearly amused by her worry.

“I’ll let you. I won’t argue,” she said with more confidence. She could try to manipulate him, could maybe steal her own orgasm, or take one later after he’d fallen asleep, but she wouldn’t. No, if Daddy didn’t give it to her, she wouldn’t take it. She trusted him to give her what she needed, even if it wasn’t what she wanted.

“There’s my good girl.” He slid his fingers into the cups of her bra, pushing them down until her breasts popped free. Taking her nipples between his fingertips, he rolled them.

Her heart raced, and her breath became shallow, but she kept her eyes on him.

“I love your tits.” He leaned down and suckled her right breast. As he did so, he reached behind her and unclasped the bra. He dragged the straps down her arms and let the lacy fabric fall to her feet.

He pulled back, bringing his nose to gently rub hers. “I want you to offer your tits to me, Carissa-girl. Cup them and serve them to me.”

She swallowed. If she had still been wearing her panties, they’d be soaked already.

Cupping her breasts, she pushed them up, holding them steady as he brought his mouth back to her chest. “Good girl, feeding Daddy like you’re told.” He suckled the left breast, flicking his tongue over the peaked nipple.

He bit down hard and released, moving back to the right breast. Her hands tightened. Her nails bit into her flesh as she held her breast to his mouth, rubbing his bottom lip with her nipple.

His grin showed his pleasure. “Do that again,” he ordered while sticking out his tongue. Her clit pulsated, begging for attention, a little touch, a caress, hell, a smack would do, just so long as there was connection.

Ignoring her wants for the moment, she ran her nipple up and down his tongue, feeling the roughness of it. Without warning, he closed his mouth over her breast and sucked. Hard. She squealed a little and had to take a small step toward him. She dropped her breasts and steadied herself by holding his shoulders.

When he pulled away from her again, her nipple was wet, the cool air of the room sharpening the peak. He licked his lips. “Get on the bed,” he instructed while undoing his belt.

She scrambled onto the bed on her back, watching him as he pulled the strip of leather this way and that before pulling it free from the loops.

“Spread your legs,” he demanded holding the belt in one hand, already doubled over.

She wanted to protest, to ask what he was going to do, but his eyes told her it would be best for her to be obedient, to express the trust she finally admitted to herself she held for him. Her legs spread apart; her wet pussy was on display to him.

He didn’t strike her as she had anticipated. He draped the belt over her mons and left it there. The leather touched her sensitive, wanting, hungry clit while he stripped out of his clothing.

Damn he was powerful. His sculpted chest, chiseled abs, all of this physical strength made him a beauty to behold, but it was his concentration on her, his self-discipline that made her body ache for his.

He climbed on the bed, never taking his gaze off of her. Lifting the belt from her pussy, he unfolded it. “Hands,” he ordered.

Shaking, but otherwise obedient, she put out her hands to him. The leather was wrapped around both wrists several times.

“Over your head,” he ordered again, his voice as raw as his expression.

She moved her arms to where he wanted them, and again he shifted. He worked the small end of the belt through the slats of her headboard and closed the buckle, effectively binding her to the bed.

He looked over the length of her, his lips wet and parted, and his cock pressing against her arm. His hard cock.

“Keep being a good girl,” he said in a much softer tone, and trailed his hand along her collarbone. An electric spark ignited when he dragged his fingers through the valley between her breasts, down the length of her belly, and stopped right at the spot over her clit.

“Please.” She whispered her plea, but the desperation was there all the same. If he didn’t touch her soon, she would shatter.

His middle finger pressed on her clit, and she arched her hips, unable to stop herself. Completely lost in her own desire. Lower he moved, until his finger toyed with her entrance, circling the rim.

“Oh, please!” she begged again, spreading her legs wider.

“Please what, Carissa-girl? Tell me exactly what you want right now.” He wasn’t watching her face. He had his gaze locked on his own hand, her pussy.

“Please put your finger inside of me—two, three. Please!” She could hear her own desperation, but it didn’t matter. She was desperate. Completely at his service and at his whim.

“Remember, I haven’t said you can come. I could toy with you like this, fuck you with my fingers like this—” He thrust two fingers into her pussy, and she moaned at the suddenly full sensation. “I could fuck you like this and never let you come.”

“Yes, I know.” She nodded. He would, and he could. By the determination in his eyes, she worried part of her punishment would be to hold her orgasm just out of reach. But she would be able to bring him his joy. He would have fun playing with her, and he’d find his own fulfillment, and even that—even being used in that way—would bring her a sense of completion.

His fingers continued to work in and out of her while the heel of his palm brushed her clit.

“You are so beautiful being fucked like this. Tied to your bed, waiting to see if I’ll give you what you want. Wondering if I’m going to stop finger fucking you and instead fuck you with my cock. Wondering if I’ll let you come, or if I’ll leave you wanting.”

“Please.” It was the only word her brain seemed to be able to handle.

He laughed.

“Clean my fingers.” He pulled out of her pussy and brought his glistening fingers to her mouth, shoving them in before she was ready. Licking her own juices from his fingers made her want everything even more.

“Good girl.”

He pulled away and moved to kneel between her legs.

Again, his fingers touched her sex, pulling her lips apart, almost too far apart, before using the fat of his thumb to play with her clit.

She nearly shot off the bed with the sharp peak in pleasure, and he laughed again.

“I think my girl likes when Daddy’s completely in control. I think you like being tied down and used.”

“Yes!” She nodded, hoping he would touch her again.

He shifted his weight and grasped the base of his cock, pressing the head against her pussy entrance.

“Lift your legs onto my shoulders,” he instructed, and she did, moving more quickly than ever before.

With no other words, he thrust into her. The positioning made her tighter for him, made his cock feel impossibly large. The stretch was nearly painful but instantly brought her to the brink of an orgasm.

He wrapped his arms around her legs, pulling them together and resting her ankles on his left shoulder.

“Oh. God,” she moaned, biting down on her own lip. So full, so impossibly full, and yet still needing more.

He thrust. Hard and unyielding. He wasn’t being soft with her. She didn’t want gentle, she wanted—this. She wanted harshness, and purpose.

A slap to her ass renewed the fire from her earlier spanking.

A hard thrust, another smack.

“I have you right where I want you. Tied up, ass in the air, and my cock buried in you.” He held tight to her legs and pounded his cock into her.

“Please! Please, I have to!” She could feel the eruption building.

“Need to what, Carissa-girl? Ask for what you want. Ask for permission.”

“Please! Please, may I come? I have to come. Please, may I?”

He plowed into her again. Growling and nipping at her calf.

“Yes, Carissa-girl. Come for me. Come all over my cock, and I want to hear it. I want to hear you scream.” He bit down on her calf again.

She couldn’t have kept her voice down even if there had been a gun to her head. The orgasm stole all coherent thought or action. Her eyes squeezed closed, her mouth opened, and she screamed. She yelled out with each wave of the powerful release he’d driven her into.

He held tight to her legs, and his strokes became more forceful. The bed banged against the wall, but she didn’t care. He didn’t seem to either.

Two more thrusts, and he stilled. His cock felt thicker, filling her more, and then his orgasm took him away from her. He was lost to his own pleasure, and she was lost in him.

When he came back to reality, he gently parted her legs and brought them down to the mattress. He leaned over her, pressing his chest to her and kissed her nose then her lips. A seductive, sensual kiss.

“You can make me break my own rules,” he kissed her again. “But there’s a price for such power, Carissa-girl.”

She looked up at him, the leather biting into her wrists. “What’s that?”

“You don’t own your orgasms anymore. They all belong to me. No more touching yourself without my permission. Not even to pet your pretty pussy. It’s mine, and I’m not that good at sharing.”

Another kiss and he went about unbuckling the belt before bringing her arms back to her sides, rubbing them and checking to be sure she was okay.

No touching? At all?

Such a demanding daddy.

Such a dream.

Chapter 15

Saturdays were meant for sleeping in and spending the day making love to the woman who’d captured your heart.

Except the woman who held his heart captive still couldn’t admit how strongly she felt for him. Putting that damn time stamp on their relationship had been stupid. Fucking stupid.

It had been a way for her to ease into the idea of a real relationship, but he hadn’t thought it all the way through. She was warming to him, really coming to trust him and give over to him, but she still fought against the idea they could last. That she could be his baby girl for more than a month.

He cursed himself for allowing it.

So, instead of sinking himself into the warmth and wetness of his girl, he stood at his office window watching the city come to life.

She was spending the day at the clinic. The regular nurse had an emergency, and they needed Carissa to lead a discussion group on healthy children habits, or something like that. He’d been disappointed when she’d said she couldn’t meet him until the evening, but he understood.

They had only one week left. Not long enough, especially since her shifts at the hospital were longer this week. She’d taken some doubles to help out a few co-workers, and the shelter was having a booster day or something, and she needed to be there to help give flu shots.

He could call off the time stamp.

But he wouldn’t. Forcing her wouldn’t get them anywhere. No, he’d have to wait the next week out and have the conversation. Until then, he needed to stop focusing on the possibility of losing her. How could he lose her?

Instead, he had to focus on his father.

He’d spent the week looking for a new location. Somewhere his father could build his hotel and not have to take down the shelter. But he was being a coward.

An absolute coward.

His father shouldn’t have so much hold on him. He’d worked hard to get out of his grip, but it seemed some small part of him still wanted a connection, wanted his father at least to value him as a son. Shouldn’t the fact that keeping the shelter protected was important to him mean something to his own father? Was money so much more important than him?

“Hey. I wasn’t expecting you in today.” Garrick’s voice pulled Jamison from his thoughts.

“Yeah. Carissa’s going to be at the shelter most of the day, and I should start looking at a new project. Dark Lace wants to expand already. The other partners want to open another club out in the suburbs. The BDSM community is pretty underserved out there, so it’s not a bad idea.”

“I heard about that. It might be the perfect thing to really sink ourselves into. You know, not only invest, but actually run.”

“What? You? I thought you wanted to just cash distribution checks.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like Jade working at that ER. I never did. Some of the shit that goes on there during her overnight shifts makes me want to send an armed guard to follow her around. But, unless we move out to the burbs, it won’t matter if she switches hospitals. She’ll still be around all the crazy shit I want her away from.”

“You’re talking like someone who’s going to get married and start popping out babies.”

“Fuck you.” Garrick laughed. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing, leaving the city.”

“No. It wouldn’t.”

“Carissa still being evasive?”

“She’s as stubborn as you predicted.” Jamison opened a bottle of water from his fridge, handing one to Garrick as well.

Garrick had the decency to keep his chuckle low as he dug out his phone. Swiping his screen his brows furrowed. “One sec.” He turned his back and put the phone to his ear.

Checking his watch, Jamison reached for his phone. It was four o’clock. Only a few more hours until Carissa was done at the shelter and would meet him at his place. He wanted to text her, see how her day was going, but he didn’t. She’d be busy, and the sooner she finished her work, the sooner he’d get to see her.

“What? No. Absolutely not. She got herself in there, she’ll have to get herself out.” Garrick’s firm voice caught his attention. “I will not, and neither will you. I’m serious, Jade, you are not to help. She will have to call Jamison.”

Now, his attention was completely grabbed. He didn’t interrupt the call, instead watched his friend tense and pace the room.

“If you do anything, it won’t be just a sore ass you’ll get. I’m not kidding.”

A few more words were exchanged, and when Garrick finally hung up, Jamison had a good idea of what had happened.

“She went to the protest and got herself in trouble,” Jamison stated flatly.

“Arrested. The idiot got herself arrested with about half of the other women down there. It seems they were in front of your father’s building when he arrived. He demanded to see their permit. I guess the organizer wasn’t there yet, and he had them all arrested. He came with police, Jamison. He arrived with them right behind him.”

“Of course, he did. And did the organizer ever show?”

“She did, but they’d already arrested a few dozen women.” Garrick stuck his phone back in his pocket. “According to what the flower child told Jade; she’s being charged with unorderly conduct. Since the permit wasn’t on the premises at the time, they can go ahead and charge them.”

Jamison looked at his watch again. “How long ago did all this happen? The protest was set for three.”

“They showed up early. She was arrested about an hour and half ago.”

He wasn’t sure where to put his anger. At his father for being such a greedy asshole or his girl for being so damn disobedient.

Since the second was at least someplace where she couldn’t run off and hide, he decided to deal with the bigger fish first.

* * *

No protesters were in sight when he crossed the street from the parking garage to his father’s building.

Garrick had gone to pick up Jade. Mostly to keep her from going to Carissa’s aid. They would be heading to the police station to talk to who worked as a detective for that precinct. Carissa wouldn’t be getting out until Jamison got there, but he wanted to be sure she was treated respectfully and safely until then.

“Father.” Jamison barged into the office, letting the door bang against the wall. “What the hell happened? Do you know you had Carissa arrested?”

His father, who had been studying papers on his desk, looked up. The cool demeanor Jamison had recognized as a child, chilled even more.

“Yes. I do. In fact, seeing my son’s girlfriend as one of the protesters only convinced me further I was doing the right thing.” He dropped his pen on the desk and stood up. “Do you really think she’s going to stick around with you after this whole thing? She was using you to get to me, Jamison. She wanted you to save her precious shelter.”

Jamison’s hands clenched at his sides. “Neither of us knew about your damn hotel plans until after we were seeing each other.”

“Well, if that’s true, then she is merely using you now.”

“Why? Because it’s impossible to believe she’d want to be with me?” The vulnerability of his child-self surfaced.

“No woman wants a man for himself. It’s always for what he brings to the table. In your case, wealth and power. I know she lives in that three flat on the north side. You think she doesn’t want to get out of that place and move into your condo? Instead of a back alley, her bedroom would overlook Lake Michigan.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Baron laughed. “I’ve had four wives; I’m well versed in the selfishness of women.”

“Selfishness? Because they wanted you around? Because they didn’t like being married to man who thought because they dared to be female, they weren’t worthy of his time or effort?”

“Every one of them used me. They wanted my name, my bank account, but when it came to following my rules, they wanted their own way!” His father’s nostrils flared; his eyes widened.

“What rules? Let you sleep with any other woman you wanted? Never make you commit to being faithful to them?”

“They got what they wanted out of the marriage.”

“I’d say that’s wrong, considering every one of them left you.” The tension he usually felt when disagreeing with his father wasn’t there. Nothing remained but energy to push forward.

“Don’t forget, Jamison, that one of them left you, too!” Baron pointed a finger at him.

“Mother? Tell me again, what happened with Mother. How did you convince her to leave me behind? Never to return again?” Jamison hadn’t spoken with the Newton woman yet, but he had a good idea of what she would tell him when he pursued that avenue.

“I did nothing. She simply walked out.” A red blotch formed on his father’s cheeks.

“Really? Just left? You didn’t do anything?”

“We’ve been over this! Your mother didn’t know how good she had things. Always asking for vacations, demanding time when I didn’t have any. And with you—she used you against me. So, when she wanted to leave, I let her. But she wasn’t taking you. She wasn’t going to have you to use against me anymore.”

“Use me against you? How, by making you pay her child support, making you take a minute to spend with me?” A dam had burst. Words flew from him with little filtering.

“Pay her child support? Do you know what it took to get her to leave you with me? One settlement check. I basically bought you from her. She sold you, Jamison. Your mother sold you.”

Jamison took a step back, as though the words had morphed into physical hands and had smacked him hard.

“You paid her to leave?”

“Paid her to leave you. She was leaving me all on her own.” Baron rounded the desk and came to stand in front of Jamison, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Your mother was like the rest, Son. The highest bidder wins their hearts. She gave you up for money, and she left me for a man who was wealthier than myself.”

“She left you for someone else?” He remembered his mother, the soft smiles, the easy singsong of her voice. He remembered her putting him to bed every night, spending all her free time with him. Why would she have left him so easily, and for what other man?

“Just like Carissa will do to you. Mark my words, Son. I’ve seen her type. Whatever she needs for her cause. If you don’t succeed in getting this shelter under protection, she’ll walk too. And you won’t succeed.”

Jamison shook his head and jerked his shoulder away from his father, taking several steps back to put much needed space between them.

Carissa had had no idea the shelter would become a focus for his father until after they had started dating. And she wouldn’t use someone, not the way his father portrayed. She didn’t have it in her.

“You don’t have to build that hotel there. You’re hurting the community. Not my girlfriend, but hundreds if not thousands of women who need a safe place for themselves and their children. That place makes a difference, you don’t—your hotel won’t. I’m asking you—as your son, I’m asking you to find another location.”

His father stared at him. The deep disapproval he’d always seen lingering behind Baron’s eyes came forward now, blaring at him.

“I have friends in this city, too, Father. I won’t let you take the shelter. And not only for Carissa, but because I need to do something that means something. Buying and selling real estate, owning shares in nightclubs—none of that means much.”

“You’re going to go up against me?” Baron laughed. “You’re as dumb as your mother if you think that will work.”

Jamison clenched his fist. The idea to throw it into his father’s face struck him, but he managed to calm his anger. It wouldn’t solve anything, and his father would still be as much of an ass as when he arrived. “At last, the full truth of it comes out. So many years I’ve wasted balancing your disapproval with my life choices.”

“My approval would be won easily enough if you’d simply follow me. Take over my business.”

“If I took over your company, I’d break it off in pieces and sell it to the highest bidder. Your name would go down in ashes. That’s what I would do with your company. Father.” The words tasted sour, leaving a bitter nastiness behind.

“Don’t be a fool, son!”

Jamison was already at the door, walking through it and ignoring the demands his father yelled from his office.

He had to get to the police station. Then he needed to call his attorney.

Chapter 16

Someone had urinated on the floor. Carissa could smell it. The holding cell housed a dozen women, most of whom had been picked up with her at the protest. She didn’t know why the others were there, and she didn’t care. She only wanted out and to go home.

Where the hell was Jade? She’d called her almost an hour ago, but she still hadn’t shown up. About forty minutes ago a police officer—he wore plain clothes but had a badge on his belt—had come to the cell calling her name.

She’d thought it was time and she was getting out, but once she got to the door, he looked her over and shook his head.

“You’re Carissa McAlister?” he’d asked with little interest.

“Yes, sir.” She nodded, giving her best submissive smile.

“My name is Detective Grant Warner. If you have any trouble in here, you tell that guard over there you want to see me, and he’ll get me. Understand?”

She had been given her own personal detective? For disorderly conduct?

“I-I don’t understand. Am I not free to go? A friend was coming to post bail or whatever she needed to do.” Carissa had pressed her face against the bars, looking down the narrow hall hoping to see Jade walking toward her.

“No one’s posting anything yet. You sit tight and, if you need me, you call for me.”

Carissa didn’t get a chance to agree or ask any more questions. The detective left her standing there and went to the guard. Probably to give him the same instructions.

She’d watched him walk back out toward the main room, whistling. He’d been whistling!

And there she still sat. No Jade. No money. And no freedom.

Jamison would be expecting her soon. It was nearing six, and she needed to get home, shower off the scum of the police station, and get to his condo.

He’d probably heard about the protest already, that there had been arrests, but he wouldn’t know her involvement. As far as he knew, she was at the shelter, covering for the scheduled nurse who’d wanted to participate in the protest.

Another twisting ache pulled at her stomach like it did every time she thought about Jamison that day. Lying to him hadn’t been easy, and she didn’t like doing it, but he wouldn’t see her side.

He had said no the one time she brought it up, but they hadn’t talked about it again. Maybe she should have brought it up again. Maybe she could have convinced him.

“Carissa McAllister?” A uniformed officer unlocked the door.

She pushed through the other women in the room, recognizing most of them as she passed. They’d all called friends or family and were waiting to be picked up, too.

“Yes. Here I am.”

The officer eyed her and gestured for her to follow him. She was nearly skipping as she followed him down the narrow hallway and through another door.

Her happiness was short lived, however.

Jamison stood at a desk not five feet away from where the officer led her, glaring at her.

Not a disappointed look, not even an irritated one like he normally cast her way when she’d gotten herself in hot water. He was angry.

“Uh, maybe I should wait until my friend comes.” She took a step back, but the door had already shut.

The officer gave her a disgruntled look. “He’s right there.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

She didn’t move. She tried to, tried to run away actually, but instead she kept staring at him. The detective she’d talked with earlier was telling him something while jotting things down on a pad of paper, but Jamison didn’t seem to be listening.

He crooked a finger at her, beckoning her to him.

She swallowed hard but still didn’t move.

He raised an eyebrow and bent his finger again.

One foot moved then the other. Before she could convince herself it wasn’t a bad dream, she stood in front of him.

“Jamison, I—”

He held up a hand to stop her. “Not one single word. You stand right there until I’m done then I will take you home.”

So, cold. His voice chilled the air.

“I’ll get more information for you within a few days, but do you think you can do it?” Jamison addressed Detective Warren.

The detective looked up, glancing at Carissa then at Jamison. “Yeah. I think I can. Might take some time though.”

“That’s fine. I’ll call you tomorrow, Grant.”

“Jamison—” she tried.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Talk to you later, Jamison. And good luck to you, Ms. McAllister.” The detective didn’t look very much like he wished her luck. In fact, Grant looked almost as stern as Jamison when he took her hand.

“Let’s go.”

She didn’t try to pull back from him.

Carissa let him drag her to his car without a word of complaint. She’d known this would happen. Known he’d be pissed if he found out. Jade shouldn’t have called him!

Once they were in the car, buckled and driving, she chanced a look at him. His knuckles were nearly transparent from the grip he had on the wheel, but it didn't compare to the fierceness of his expression. With intense focus, he stared at the road ahead of them with a clenched jaw.

“Is something wrong? I mean, besides the obvious?” she asked.

“When we get home, you’ll put on your bad-girl panties.” That was it? Nothing else?

“Jamison, Daddy, I didn’t mean to get you so angry.”

He shook his head. He wasn’t looking at her. Even at red lights, he continued to stare out the window. Something had happened. Something that had nothing to do with her.

“But you did. You blatantly disobeyed me. You lied to me!” His voice rose. Daddy never raised his voice.

“It was important.”

He huffed. Not a real laugh, or a chuckle, more of a sound of annoyance.

She left it alone until he parked outside her building. He didn’t unbuckle her. He didn’t tell her to stay put so he could open her door. He did open it, though, with a quick yank and a jerk of his thumb, telling her to get out.

She swallowed hard. It didn’t feel the same as when she’d walked toward a punishment before. This, this was different. Permanent in some way. Like a heaviness pressed down on them, and she wasn’t sure a simple spanking would break it up and clear it away.

Maybe she should tell him. Maybe if she didn’t make him wait the week to tell him she’d decided to ignore the expiration date, he’d lighten up. The cloud would dissipate, at least a little.

She unlocked the door to her apartment.

“Saw you on TV a few minutes ago. Got yourself into some trouble, huh?” Mr. Buschmann called over the railing.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. He could not have picked a worse time to be his nosy self.

“Yes, she did,” Jamison answered and pushed the door open.

Before any other retort could be uttered, she was inside, the door closed and locked behind them.

“Do you want something to drink?” She walked to the kitchen. He needed to calm down; he was too angry.

“You knew all week you were going to go today, didn’t you?” He followed her into the kitchen.

She paused at the dishwasher. “I—I had thought about it, yes. But I wasn’t sure, not really sure until yesterday.”

“And you thought what, that if you went, I probably wouldn’t find out, so no big deal?” His voice was cold. Frozen, really.

How could she even begin to explain herself when there was no acceptable explanation.

“I know it sounds bad; it looks bad. It’s just, it was important to me, really important.”

“And keeping you safe is important to me, but that didn’t matter to you, did it? Only what you wanted counted.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” It was coming out wrong; the whole day was happening wrong. Her throat closed up, but not because she was in trouble. No, the look on his face didn’t suggest a spanking was coming. It was worse. Darkness lurked there. She knew that expression, knew what feelings boiled beneath it.

“I’m sorry.” She leaned against the counter, remembering what she wanted to tell him, remembering what she’d decided that morning. But when she looked at him and saw the distance, the gap she’d put between them, the words couldn’t form.

“You’re sorry I found out. You’re sorry I had to bail your ass out of jail. You’re sorry about all of that, but that’s it. You had no intention of ever taking our relationship seriously.” His words cut her.

“No, that’s not true!”

He took a deep breath and looked around. She could sense him drifting away. He was still standing there, in her kitchen, but some decision had been made, some horrible, irreversible decision.

“Daddy—”

“No. I think maybe you were right. Maybe these relationships don’t last, they aren’t meant for people like you. Or me.”

“What? No. I was wrong, no, Jamison. I fucked up—sorry, messed up—badly. I get that, but you can’t throw away everything because I was bad one time.”

“You never had any hope for this to last. This has just been a month-long ride for you, and you were going to get off next week anyway. So, let’s cut through the bullshit and finish it now.”

“Jamison. Please.” She fisted her hands at her sides. She needed to get a grip because soon she was going to throw herself at his feet, and she wasn’t that person. She didn’t beg people to stay where they didn’t want to.

His gaze was hard. Maybe she was as much of a game to him as he accused her of playing.

“No need to delay the inevitable. We’ll consider today the expiration date,” he announced, his voice as hard as his eyes.

The wall was there, fully erect and unclimbable. He’d made the call. He’d ended them.

She swallowed hard, bit back the tears threatening to fall and stood straighter.

If he wanted to go, fine. She wouldn’t beg or cry for him. No. If he wanted out. There was the door.

She stood in her kitchen while he quietly turned and walked out of her apartment. He didn’t even slam the door. The quiet click of it latching was worse. So much worse than an impassioned leaving.

He was gone.

She blinked, letting the tears fall and not stopping them.

He was gone.

Chapter 17

“I don’t understand you,” Garrick leaned over his cheeseburger.

Jamison popped a fry into his mouth and chewed slowly.

“What’s to understand? I told you, we had a deal. One month.” He shrugged, lifting both shoulders. The energy it took to act as though walking out of Carissa’s apartment three days ago hadn’t torn him in pieces was exhausting.

“Bullshit. I know you said that, I know you told her that, but I also know that you weren’t looking at that as a real end date.”

“Maybe you don’t know as much as you think.” Jamison popped another fry into his mouth. Grease and salt, but it didn’t matter. Everything had lost its taste as soon as he closed the door behind him at her apartment.

Garrick leaned back in the booth, glaring at him. “So, you’re not even interested in knowing how she’s doing?”

Of course he wanted to know. Not for one second had she left his mind. It was torment.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me either way.” He forced a casual tone.

“Jade has all but moved in with her. Oh, she’s playing like she’s fine. Much like the idiot you are being, but she’s not fine. For Christ’s sake, Jade had to remind her to shower before going to work this morning!”

Jamison wouldn’t let it get to him. She’d made the decision. She’d broken the rules, completely disregarded them. She’d taught him she’d been right. Relationships didn’t work. People lied. People had their own agendas, and they couldn’t get around that.

“She’ll be fine,” he reminded himself. He was not going to her apartment. He was not going to save her from her own misery or him from his.

“You’re an idiot. I swear. What happened with Baron? He called me yesterday to see if I was still considering the deal. I told him the same as before, not unless the location changed—but he didn’t even get frazzled. He laughed and said my loss and hung up.”

“My father and I aren’t speaking, and, if I have my way, probably won’t again.”

“Does this have something to do with what you talked with Grant about?”

Jamison broke a fry in half and squished it, watching the soft potato center ooze out of it. “Yes. I’ve hired him to find my mother. Apparently, she didn’t abandon me. My father paid her to leave and never come back.”

“What?” Garrick dropped his burger back onto his plate. “He paid her off?”

“Yeah. I was pissed at first, but it’s my father. I have no doubt she had little choice, or at least thought she had none. He also said she left him for another man, but I don’t believe that. Once I find her, I’ll know for sure.”

“When did you find this out?”

“Saturday.”

“Right before you went to get Carissa out of jail? Jamison. You broke up with her because you were pissed at your father?”

The contempt in Garrick’s voice turned Jamison’s stomach.

“No. I broke up with her because I got tired of playing the waiting game. What was the point of taking a step in the right direction when, in the end, she was going to walk away? Going to that protest was more important than obeying my instructions about it because in a week, she’d still be dealing with the shelter and not be dealing with me.” Jamison dropped the fry he’d been twisting in his fingers and grabbed his napkin, his appetite lost.

“You don’t know that. I don’t think that’s true at all.” Garrick shook his head. “You need to talk to her, sort all this out.”

“There’s nothing to sort out.” Jamison took a deep breath and stretched his arms out. Sleep had been an elusive bitch the past few days. “I have to head out for a meeting. I’ll be in the office this afternoon, though. I want to move forward with the Dark Lace expansion.”

“You’re being as stubborn as she is,” Garrick chided.

“Yeah, well, I’ve earned it.” Not much of a retort, he’d grant that, but his mind wasn’t working on all cylinders just yet. He tossed bills down on the table and left Garrick to finish his lunch.

* * *

Carissa stepped off the bus onto the pavement outside the shelter, still in a haze. She couldn’t shake the lost feeling that had taken over her since that click. That resounding click that signaled the finality of his goodbye.

She’d fucked it all up so beautifully. Her resistance, her reluctance had worn off on him. No wonder he didn’t think she’d taken him seriously. She’d put a damn expiration date on their relationship. You can’t be taken seriously if you already plan to end it.

Smart. She’d been so damn smart.

Ugh.

The February air whipped around her, crisp and cold, but she didn’t care. She’d left her scarf and her hat in her bag. Stuffing her ungloved hands into her coat pockets, she climbed the steps to the shelter.

Having spent the entire day at work watching new parents fawn over their babies, kissing each other and oozing love all over the place, had left her drained. Love like that didn’t happen for her. Wasn’t that what she’d told herself?

But she’d had it, or at least close to it. So close that she could almost taste it, and now it was gone.

“Carissa?” Margaret walked up to her as she turned down the hall leading to the clinic.

“Yeah.” She pushed her hair away from her face and tried to smile.

“Oh. Honey. You look.” Margaret grasped her by the shoulders and turned her. “You look exhausted.” Although she’d been turned, Carissa caught his figure walking down the same hall, in the opposite direction to the front doors.

“Is that, was that Jamison?” she asked, pulling free from Margaret. Had he come looking for her? Was he ready to forgive her?

“Yes.” Her voice didn’t sound like someone who was about to tell her her hot hunk of a boyfriend was looking for her. No, that upbeat tone she’d had previously was gone. “He—uh, he mentioned you two weren’t seeing each other any longer.”

And the bricks just kept falling. Her head pounded. “Oh. Yes, right.”

“He’s, well, he’s buying the building, Carissa.”

Carissa took a step back. “What? Why? For his father?” Had he really gone off to the dark side because she’d convinced him love wasn’t real?

“No! No. He’s buying the building, not the shelter. We’ll be renting the space from him. He’ll be able to better protect the shelter from his father sweeping in and ripping it from us.”

“Because he has friends in high places, too. And can’t have the richie-rich fighting amongst themselves.” Carissa tried to sound sour, but Jamison never acted that way.

“He completely outbid his father, and, with the money, we can remodel the place and add more programs. He even wants to expand the housing area, put a second floor onto the place.”

Carissa tried to look happy for Margaret. It sounded perfect. But Jamison hadn’t stuck around to tell her himself. He’d left. He’d just walked out. “That’s great, Margaret. Really.”

“Hon, you need to go home. Sink into a hot tub, pour some wine, and cry it out. And when you’re done crying, you need to call him. He looked as close to death as you do right now.”

Cry? Wasn’t she already cried out?

“I have to get the program stuff ready for this weekend.”

“It can wait. Now, bundle up and go home.” Margaret hooked her arm through hers and all but dragged her to the doors. Not that she gave her much of a fight.

Carissa felt more dead than alive at the moment anyway.

Chapter 18

“I got some of your mail!” Mr. Buschmann called down the stairwell. “Got mixed up with mine.”

“Thanks, Mr. Buschmann.” Carissa jogged up the flight of stairs to meet him and get the envelopes from his hand.

“Looks like Mr. Croft might be back, eh?” He gave her the most sympathetic smile she’d ever seen from him.

“What?” She flipped through the envelopes and found one addressed to her from Jamison. Her heart picked up speed while her stomach fell into her shoes.

“Be gentle on him, now. Men do stupid things when they are in love.” He gave her a toothy grin.

“I never would have taken you for a romantic.”

“Ah, I’m not. But I liked that fella.” The man put his sour expression back on, but she could see through it much clearer now.

“Thanks, Mr. Buschmann. I liked him too.”

She ran down the stairs and into her apartment. Dropping the mail on her couch, she stripped off her running jacket. Spring was starting to warm up the chill outside. March had come and, with it, the sun.

She eyed the envelope sitting on top of the pile.

Jamison.

He’d been at the shelter a few times, working with Margaret on changes and remodeling stuff, but she’d stayed out of their way. Even when Margaret tried to pull her in for a conversation on the clinic, she’d bowed out. The staff nurse had it handled. She wasn’t needed.

Jade had invited her to dinner, but after Carissa wrangled the confession that Jamison would be in attendance as well, she cried off. There was no need to see what she couldn’t have.

He’d moved on already. Probably had a new girlfriend.

She needed a change, too. She hadn’t been to Dark Lace since he brought her there last. Just because he owned it didn’t mean she couldn’t still enjoy herself there.

It was Friday night. A perfect time for that change!

Chucking the running gear, she jumped in the shower and pulled out the shortest skirt she could find in her closet. She was going to get back in the saddle.

After spending an hour on her hair and makeup, and another half hour on finding the perfect shirt to go with her skirt she opened her underwear drawer to find some panties.

The white cotton panties were exactly where she’d had them over the past three weeks. Good Girl blared up at her from the top of the pile. She traced the words with her fingertips. She didn’t have the courage to throw them away yet, but she’d stopped wearing them.

Her thongs didn’t feel the same as they used to. They felt wrong, but she wouldn’t put on those panties. She needed to get rid of them.

She grabbed a pair of purple bikini underwear and finished dressing. On the way out the door, the mail caught her eye again.

“Fine,” she said to the furniture and grabbed his letter, ripping it open.

She pulled out the folded stationary and opened it up. Two tickets fell out into her hands.

The Pink concert.

She read the short letter.

Carissa,

Found these in my drawer. I know how much you enjoy Pink. Go to the concert. Have a good time but be safe.

Jamison

Be safe? That was that?

Hadn’t he said they could go as friends? Isn’t that what he told her when she reminded him their time would be up by March thirteenth?

The light from her apartment reflected in the window gave her a clear view of herself. All decked out and ready to go to the club to catch—what—another man? Another daddy?

No. She had a daddy, but more than that she’d had a friend and a lover. She wasn’t giving up yet.

She opened the drawer of her writing desk and scribbled a note, stuffed it in an envelope along with one of the tickets, and sealed it before she could talk herself out of it.

Carissa grabbed her coat and ran down the steps toward the nearest mailbox. It had to get in the next day’s mail, the sooner the better.

She found the box, pulled the blue door down and threw the letter inside then let go of the door. She stood there, on the corner, staring at the mailbox.

Would he go?

Could he forgive her?

She had an entire week to stew about it before she found out.

* * *

Jamison sat in his car, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

He’d received Carissa’s letter two days before. The concert was in two hours. He had a decision to make. Could he go? Could he see her again, so soon?

She mentioned two friends going out, but he didn’t want friendship.

The last few weeks without her had been fucking hell. One of his own creation, but it burned just as hot. He wasn’t sure he could see her and not want to touch her, devour her.

But it was an olive branch. He’d sent her those tickets because he wasn’t going to use them, knowing she’d love to go. He didn’t expect her to send one back to him and ask him to meet her.

But he never expected to have walked out on his baby girl, either. Could she ever forgive him for that? For taking his anger out on her and walking out on her when she had needed him?

So many things had happened in the last few weeks that he wanted to share with her. Every time Grant called him with news on his search for his mother, he wanted to call Carissa to talk to her about it. Grant was getting closer. Her friends in Chicago finally started divulging information. His leads took him outside of Chicago, and he was headed to Indiana to track down her relatives.

His father had lied straight through his fucking teeth. He didn’t offer her money when she said she was leaving him. He had sent her away. He’d controlled every minute of her day, her time, and when she tried to fight back, tried to get some breathing room, he’d kicked her out. As far as her friends knew, there was no money, no offer, only threats that if she tried to come back, he’d make sure she regretted it—and Jamison would suffer, too.

Baron Croft stopped even trying to contact him, and he preferred it that way. Jamison’s attorney was working on selling off his shares in the company. He supposed he should feel grief over losing his father, not only the current relationship but the memories of him. He’d never really been a father, Jamison could see that clearly now, more so than he had already. It was one thing to admit something but entirely worse when you felt the truth in your bones. And he felt the truth now.

His phone beeped, and he swiped the messenger.

Sure. Why would I turn down a ride?

Guess his decision was made. He’d texted Carissa that morning before his mind was clear enough to stop him, offering to pick her up for the concert.

On my way

He turned on the ignition. They could get a quick bite first. It would be fine.

Not awkward. Just friends. They could do that.

He could do that.

The door to her apartment was ajar when he got there. He knocked, the door opening wider when he did.

“Carissa?” he called, but when she didn’t answer he shoved the door open and ran inside “Carissa!”

“Yeah! Yeah! I’m here, what’s wrong?” She bounded into the living room, her hair half flat and half curled, her white lace bra on and white cotton panties.

He took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Your door was open, not unlocked, open.”

He shut it and turned the bolt.

“Oh. I must have forgotten to close it after the Peapod guy came.”

“I didn’t see an order put through,” he said, trying to keep his eyes from wandering over her exposed body.

“I opened my own account.”

It didn’t feel right, having her on her own like that. But he was her friend. He couldn’t say anything, and he sure couldn’t make her let him have a say in her grocery shopping.

“All Twinkies and ice-cream?” he asked, hoping to sound playful.

She shook her head. “I sprinkled a few veggies here and there.”

“I—uh—I interrupted you getting ready.” He motioned at her standing in front of him in her underwear.

“Yeah. I was doing my hair.”

He looked at his watch. “I’ll wait out here.” He motioned toward the couch and took a seat.

“Okay. I’ll just be a few more minutes.” She took a few steps backward and turned as she came to her door. But he’d seen it.

Her panties.

Bad Girl

Was it a sign? Did she want him to see that?

Being unsure of himself wasn’t his thing. He didn’t need signs or flashing symbols to tell him what to do. She was wearing the panties he gave her.

He decided he wasn’t going to wait in the living room. He marched down the hall to the bathroom where she was now wearing a pleated black skirt and was working on her hair again.

“Got bored,” he said when she looked at him in the mirror. “So, how’s work been?”

“Same as usual. Jade’s leaving. She and Garrick are starting to look for houses out in the burbs.”

“Yeah, I heard.” He kicked the doorframe lightly. “Dark Lace is going to open up out there. Garrick is going to manage it.”

“Jade did mention something about that. It’s good. Opening a club out there.”

“Yep.”

“You buying the shelter.” She put down the hot iron after unplugging it. “That was good, too.” She turned to him, leaning back against the sink. “Your father has moved on, I understand.”

“My attorney was able to get him off the idea of going up against me with his eminent domain garbage. Yes.”

“Good. That’s got to be really hard for you, going up against him like that.”

“Not as hard as I thought it would be.” He went on to explain the situation with his father, and about his search for his mother. She stood, gripping the countertop of the sink, listening. Intently listening. He saw the rage in her when he explained the lies his father had told about his mother, and the sincere hope in her eyes when he talked about Grant’s work in trying to find her.

“I’m really sorry all that happened.” She didn’t move, but she looked ready to pounce.

“I’m really sorry, too. I’m sorry that instead of sticking around to explain it all, to let it all settle in my head first, I let it ruin us.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t make a sound.

“I was so angry, so confused about what to do next, that dealing with you and that at the same time mushed into one thing. I should have waited. I should have dropped you off and gone home to get my head on straight before talking with you. I never should have come up here and taken my anger out on you like that.” He raked a hand through his hair. Could she forgive him for that?

“I didn’t exactly make things easy for you. I reminded you too many times about our deal. When the truth was—I didn’t want the month to end, I didn’t want to walk away. And it terrified me. Instead of telling you, instead of bringing you my worries I held them in and made a bigger mess. How could you possibly think anything other than what you did about me?”

“We did a great job at doing everything wrong that day, huh?” His lips tugged into a smile.

“Yeah, we did.” She let out a long breath. “Do you think I can confess one more thing?”

“Sure, why not.” He chuckled.

“I don’t want to go to the concert tonight. I want to stay here. With you. I want to clear the air and start over. I want my daddy back.”

His chest could have exploded, his heart expanded so quickly from her words.

“I want my Carissa-girl back.” He nodded. “No expiration dates.”

“No, no time stamp.” She shook her head.

“And no more hiding feelings. We deal with them head-on, both of us.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

His knees just about buckled. God damn she knew how to pull his strings.

“And the next time I see you get off that bus at the shelter without proper clothing, I’m going to paddle you right there. Don’t think for a second I didn’t see you without your hat and gloves at least a dozen times over the past few weeks.”

She lowered her eyes, and a rosy blush covered her cheeks.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Lift up your skirt for me, Carissa-girl.”

She turned around and rolled up the hem until he saw the words he’d seen before.

“Bad Girl, huh? What did you do that was bad?”

“I got arrested, for one.” She laughed and looked over her shoulder at him.

He laughed, too. It felt so good.

“You did a lot more than that, little girl. But we can start there.”

He closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair. “I missed you. So much I missed you.”

“Please don’t leave me again.”

“Never, Carissa-girl. Never. I swear it.”

Before she could respond, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

Chapter 19

The moment Jamison touched her, lifting her off her feet, she crumpled inside. So much tension had built all week, while she hoped she’d be able to see him at the concert. She hadn’t thought he would offer to drive her, but when the text had come in, she’d felt a surge of hope. Always cautious with her optimism, she didn’t let her mind spiral off into all the fantasies that could happen when she saw him.

But there he was. In her apartment and wanting to start over again.

All the emotion she’d shoved away for weeks flooded her, and tears spilled over her lids and down her cheeks. He immediately jumped into action, gathering her back in his arms and cradling her in his lap on her bed.

“It’s okay, Carissa-girl. It’s okay.”

“I know.” She sniffled. “I’m so tired of trying not to hurt, and now I don’t have to hurt anymore.”

He flinched but didn’t let her go. “I’m sorry you had to hurt at all.”

“You hurt, too,” she reminded him. He’d gone through so much, and she hadn’t been there for him. She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, and she didn’t try. She didn’t need to.

“We both hurt because we weren’t with each other. But now that we are here, we can heal.”

She’d missed him so much. How easily he could soothe her with a hug, a kiss, hell, a wink. She tried telling herself she could get over him, but she’d been lying to herself. She’d never be able to get over him.

“Aren’t you going to paddle me?” she asked when several minutes went by and he still held her.

“I think the last few weeks are punishment enough for both of us,” he said.

She looked up at him, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Do you still—” She swallowed. “Do you still want me?”

“Want you? Carissa, if I don’t have you in the next ten minutes, I will probably die a horrible death. Outside of the physical need I have for you, I want you in every other way, too. I always did. I love you, Carissa. And if that scares you, I’ll hold you tighter—”

“It doesn’t scare me, I mean, it would have a while ago, but seeing as I love you, too, it only makes good sense.”

He looked down at her, a warm smile spreading across his features.

“Still such a smart mouth.”

She giggled and snuggled closer, enjoying the warmth of being in his arms.

“I know how to cure that.” His hands wandered down her body, feeling her and pinching her. She didn’t wiggle away or try to stop him. Instead she gave him free rein.

It felt so good to have his hands on her again, to have her daddy back with her.

“I think we can do without these panties,” he said. She scooted off the bed, rolled the cotton panties down, and stepped out of them.

“Your pants might get in the way, too.” She gestured at the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re right.” He hopped down and made quick work of getting as naked as her. He grabbed her and tossed her down on the bed, shoving her legs apart and pressing his hard cock against her.

“I’ve missed this, too.” He reached between them and petted her clit. She hadn’t touched herself in weeks, not feeling the desire to do anything without him. His little touch had her on the brink already.

He eased two fingers into her, his mouth agape as he watched her. “My girl is wet and wanting. You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She nodded, gripping his shoulders.

“I’m afraid this isn’t going to take very long.” he poised his cock at her entrance.

“I don’t care,” she all but yelled.

He laughed then removed his fingers, quickly replacing them with his cock. “Oh fuck.” He gripped her hips and ground his pelvis into her.

She arched her spine, trying to get closer to him, to pull him deeper inside.

“I have to.” She panted, meeting his thrusts with her own

“Go,” he ordered, his voice gravelly and raw.

He captured her scream with his mouth, kissing her hard. Her breaths came in little gasps as he fiercely rode her toward his own release. As his body unleashed, whipping his mind this way and that until the last pulse of his orgasm slipped from him.

“Holy hell,” he whispered against her lips. “That had to be a record short fuck.”

She laughed. “That’s okay. We have all night.”

“No, Carissa-girl. We have forever.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Epilogue

“Where is he?” Carissa asked, checking her phone again for the time. They’d been sitting in the crowded coffee house for almost an hour and still no sign of Detective Warner.

“He’ll be here, don’t worry.” Jamison sipped the last of his latte.

“Maybe you should have used a different detective,” Carissa said.

“You only say that because you think Grant doesn’t like you.” Jamison grinned.

“He thinks I’m trouble.” She shrugged.

“That’s only because the first time he met you, you were sitting in one of his holding cells.” Jamison reached over the table and squeezed her hand. “He’s a good detective and a friend. I trust him with this.”

Carissa nodded. Trust was important. Especially with this task.

“Hey, sorry I’m so late.” Grant appeared at their table and shook off his coat. Light flakes of snow dropped to the floor around them.

“No problem.” Jamison greeted him.

“Did you find her?” Carissa burst in before Grant took his seat.

Grant paused; his gaze flicked to Jamison. “Sort of.”

Carissa held Jamison’s hand.

“And?” she forcibly pressed when he didn’t speak right away.

“Carissa,” Jamison warned. “Let him sit before you start your interrogation.”

“It’s okay.” Grant gave a small nod. “I did find her. Unfortunately…shit…I’m sorry Jamison. She passed away two years ago.” Grant placed a folder on the table. “Her death certificate.”

Carissa’s gaze snapped to Jamison. His jaw went lax, and his shoulders drooped. All the waiting, the hoping- dashed with one sentence. He’d never meet his mother.

“There’s something else,” Grant said, opening the folder and pulling out a slip of paper. “A birth certificate. For a baby girl.”

Carissa snatched the paper. “Jamison, this girl is younger than you…shit- I think she’s your sister.” She brought her gaze back to him.

Grant took the paper back. “Yes, that’s what I think as well. Your father is listed on the certificate. This girl- well woman now- is your sister. Full sister. Your mom was pregnant when she left Chicago.”

Jamison sat back in his chair. His brow wrinkled with thought.

“Jamison?” Carissa said softly. “I’m sorry-”

“No. It’s okay.” He turned his attention back to Grant. “Did you find anything out about my mother, how she lived, died? Anything?” Jamison asked.

Grant nodded. “She remarried about ten years ago. They were in a car wreck. Died instantly.”

Jamison’s jaw clenched, and he dragged in a long breath. “My sister?”

“I didn’t do any digging on her. She wasn’t listed in the area, and I wasn’t sure how deep you wanted me to go,” Grant explained.

“Okay,” Jamison nodded. “Well, thanks, for finding this all out for me.”

“Not a problem. I can keep digging,” Grant offered.

“No, not now. I think I need to wrap my brain around all this first.” Jamison crossed his arms over his chest.

Grant stared in silence for a long moment. “Okay, well. Then I’ll see you at Dark Lace this weekend?”

Jamison nodded. “Of course.”

Grant left the folder for Jamison and grabbed his coat from the chair. “I had the maintenance guys do that thing you wanted in the nursery. It’ll be ready this weekend,” he said while he buttoned up his coat.

“Thanks,” Jamison said with a slight nod.

Carissa waited until Grant walked away from the table before scooting over to the next chair and hugging Jamison.

“I’m so sorry, daddy,” she whispered.

“It’s really okay,” he said with a kiss to her forehead. “Really. I won’t have the answers I wanted, but I know she didn’t abandon me. I can feel it.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her against him.

“What about your sister?” Carissa asked quietly.

“I need some time, then maybe Grant can find her, reach out for me. But right now, I think I’m just going to enjoy having my little girl with me. The movers will be at your place tomorrow morning.”

Carissa’s heart would break a rib if it expanded anymore. Six months ago, the idea of moving in with Jamison would have had her running for the hills. But now, after everything they’d gone through, all the heartache and loving, she couldn’t wait to get finished with the move.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

He cupped her chin, tilting her head enough to bring his lips over hers.

“Absolutely, Carissa-girl.”

“What was Grant talking about? What did they do in the nursery?” she asked. She suspected Jamison needed a little time to accept the news, and once everything sunk in, he’d talk to her about it. He wouldn’t hide from her any more than she was allowed to hide from him.

Jamison’s mouth split into a wide toothy grin.

“Just brought in a few more pieces of furniture.” He got up from the table and grabbed her coat. “Let’s get back to your place. We still have one more room to clean before the movers come tomorrow.”

“But what equipment?” She stuffed her arms in the coat he held out for her.

He zipped her coat then handed her the scarf.

“Jamison?” she pressed when he kept quiet.

“Gloves,” he said sternly with a pointed finger at her pockets.

She huffed but dug out the knit gloves and wiggled her fingers inside. “There. Now will you tell me?” she asked, but he was already half way to the exit.

When she caught up to him, he had his hand open for her to grasp and pulled her closer to him.

“Tell me?” she asked again with more whine to her tone.

He laughed. “I asked them to put two more rocking chairs in like the one we used the first night, an extra spanking bench, and to add a St. Andrews Cross.”

“The cross?” She stumbled over her footing but righted herself before bumping into him. “Why?”

“Because sometimes my Carissa-girl needs some help keeping still while I flog her ass and her tits. This way, you can be bound and helpless, and we don’t have to be in the main dungeon. You can scream for your daddy all you want.”

Carissa headed up the stairs to her apartment in silence.

“You did that for me?” she asked once inside.

He bolted the door and stripped off his coat.

“I did it for us. Everything I do is for us.” He started unraveling her scarf. “But I don’t want to talk about dungeon equipment, or Grant’s findings right now. What I want, is you naked and in your bedroom.”

“What about cleaning the kitchen?” she asked with a coy grin, walking backward to the hallway. If her daddy wanted her naked, she wouldn’t disobey him.

“We can get up early to deal with it.” He stalked her.

Once in her room, he grabbed her arm and yanked her against him. He placed warm kisses to her cheeks. “I can’t imagine not having you with me, Carissa. You’re everything to me. Everything,” he said between kisses.

“I love you, Jamison. So much I love you,” she whispered.

He stopped kissing her and brought his gaze level with hers. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever find someone like you, someone to love forever.”

“I was sure I wouldn’t,” she said, touching his cheek.

“Until you, daddy.”

* * *

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VALOR

Chapter One

Dustan

Smokers huddled around each other the required fifty feet away from the doors to the bar, puffing away on their cigarettes and electronic nicotine dispensers. I hated the smell of smoke, it reminded me of dirtier times of my life. Times best left smashed at the bottom of an ashtray.

I walked past them, turning my head to breathe fresh air, and headed up the two steps into the bar. A local joint. Music blasted from the digital jukebox in the back corner, pool tables crowded with what were probably the usuals, but I wasn’t interested in any of that. What I had my eye on hadn’t arrived yet.

But he would.

Like clockwork, Antonio Merde would walk through the front door and find his stool at the bar. He’d order his usual bourbon on the rocks and sip it while he eyed the sweet candy walking around the bar.

I knew this because it’s my job to know. Every move Antonio had made in the last week had been categorically noted in my head. It made it easier that the man was an idiot and never varied his routine. He did the same shit every single day. No changes, no variations. It made my job a little too easy.

Which put me on edge because it shouldn’t be so fucking easy. Antonio had connections. Strong ties to bad men. He should have known better. But he was also a second cousin, making him far from the head of the family. Maybe he didn’t have the brains his uncle hoped he’d have when he put him in charge of distribution on the East Coast.

Not completely in charge. I found that out, too. Antonio shared his power with his younger brother. A kick in the nuts, probably, but that wasn’t why I was sitting in the bar, waiting. I had something else altogether to discuss with him.

A few of the smokers filed in, admitting the chilled air from outside. Winter hadn’t settled in completely, but fall had been a real bitch. If it wasn’t raining, it was balls cold, but since I was on site doing my job, the weather wasn’t really taking up much of my focus.

The guys cleared past me, reeking of smoke or whatever flavor vape shit they’d just ruined their lungs with, and I caught sight of someone worth a moment of my time. At least a quick look.

Most of the women in there were partnered up with someone, or at least openly on the prowl. They’d put on their warpaint and doused themselves in their favorite scents. Perfect curls or tight buns were placed, and outfits I’m sure they took more than an hour choosing donned. But not her—she was different.

She walked behind the smokers, but she wasn’t with any of them. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail at her nape. Strands had fallen out, framing her delicate features. She had curves. I could see them despite the loose-fitting blouse and flowing skirt. Fuck, if I had a thing for schoolgirls, this girl would be right on the money. Give her a pair of thick—rimmed glasses, and she’d be textbook school—girl.

I gripped my glass of whiskey and took a sip just as her eyes caught mine. I hardened my stare. As fuckable as she seemed, I didn’t have time tonight. I had a job to do.

But unlike most girls who took the sign to turn away and keep moving, this girl smiled. I swallowed my sip, letting the burn of the whiskey become front and center in my mind. Because she headed in my direction.

She wiggled her way between me and the stool beside me, her elbow perched on the bar and her face turned up. I had at least a full head on her. If I stood up, would she even reach my shoulders?

“You look like you don’t want to be bothered,” she said softly, her gaze roaming my face and down my torso.

“And yet, here you are.” I tried to present a firm expression, but she was already giggling at my words. The sound didn’t fit her. Like she’d forced it from a mental script.

“I don’t really want to be bothered, either.” She turned full frontal to the bar and waved down the bartender, rising on tiptoe until her breasts rested on the bar. “Can I get a whiskey sour, please?” she asked in the sweetest voice I’d heard in too long. But it was fake. What game was she playing at?

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” The bartender didn’t even try to hide his assessment of her breasts on his bar. With a quick swipe of his tongue over his lips, he darted off to make her drink.

“If you don’t want to be bothered, you probably shouldn’t be so—up front,” I pointed out, sipping again. If I finished my drink too fast, I’d want another one. And it was a one—drink sort of night.

“His attention is fine. He’ll be heavy-handed with my drink, and he’ll use the good stuff. But all these other assholes?” She waved a hand at the rest of the bar. “I’d rather they just stay where they are.”

“So, you’re using me as a shield.” I couldn’t help but smile. It was a first for me.

“Yeah. You have that scary sort of look. These guys aren’t going to mess with me if they think I’m talking to you.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. Her fingers trembled on the bar top, and her eyes didn’t quite meet mine.

“Here you go.” The bartender put a small napkin on the bar then placed her drink. “Eight fifty,” he announced, leaning closer to her than I liked. He was trying to get a glimpse down her blouse. Prick.

She twisted her little black purse from around her neck and pulled out a ten. “Here you go. No change.” She waved the bill at him then handed it off. The bartender winked and headed back down to other patrons not as patient for his attention.

She took a sip of her drink and smiled up at me. “See? Not watered down, and top shelf.”

I started to say something, but my guy walked in. I checked my watch. He was a few minutes early. He made his way to his usual stool, and the guy already sitting there got up and wordlessly moved to another seat.

I knew his routine. He’d order and then hit the head. I had at least fifteen minutes before I needed to get up. So, I sipped my drink and watched the woman enjoy hers.

“I know why I don’t want to be dealing with all these jerks, but what about you? Just hiding out after a long day at the office?” Her fingers flicked over the lapel of my suit jacket. I was overdressed for the atmosphere. I knew it but didn’t give a fuck. Traditions needed to be kept. And when on a job, I dress for work.

“Yeah, something like that,” I acknowledged and swung my gaze back to Antonio. He had his glass in hand. Not too much longer.

“So, what do you do? This part of the city, I wouldn’t expect to see a financial guy.” She forced another giggle and sipped again, her gaze roaming over me again. Assessing. This woman searched me for something.

“Market’s not my thing.” I shook my head, checking my watch. Just another minute and I’d have to get up from my stool.

She sipped again, and I watched her thick lips as the liquor slipped past them. I wondered for a quick beat if her lips were warm, or would they be frigid if I kissed her?

“What about you?” I turned the topic on her. I couldn’t exactly go into details of my work, and I was actually curious what this beauty did during the day.

“Oh, office work.” She shrugged again, brushing off the topic, too. Fine. I’m good with a little mystery. It’s not like anything was happening there, or later.

Antonio got up, laughing at something the guy next to him said. He slapped the guy on his back and waved to the bartender, calling for another round. After his second glass, I knew he’d slip out the back and head home. Antonio never left through the front. Probably convinced someone watched his moves, but he was probably thinking more the FBI than me. I’m not FBI. I’m not anything that can be traced.

I kept my eyes on the girl but my focus on Antonio’s movements. After he made a stop at the bathroom, he’d meet his contact in the back room for five minutes, make his collection for the week, and get his ass back to his stool. The collections happened every Friday night. I didn’t give a shit about that, though. I just needed the timeline to stay the same. If he stayed on schedule, everything would go off without a hitch.

“You need another?” she asked, pointing at my drink. I only had a sip left.

“I’m good,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “You?” I asked when she downed the rest of hers.

“Yeah. I think so. It’s been a rough day.” She nodded, but the tremor from her hands showed up in her voice. She wasn’t drinking off a stressful day; she was gulping down courage.

“Oh yeah?” I said with a raised hand. I couldn’t imagine her having a rough day, not with the sweet composure she’d walked in with. If she was going to lie, she needed to get better at it.

“Another?” the bartender asked, his expression a little less enthusiastic now that I was the one calling him over and not her breasts.

“Sure. Thanks.” She smiled at him but without all the promise she had before. Maybe she was looking for the watered-down drink now.

I pulled out my wallet just as Antonio brushed past us and headed back to his stool. I tossed a ten on the counter, and the bartender swiped it up in his palm.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said but didn’t reach into her purse. I lifted the corner of my mouth and nodded.

“Not a problem.”

“I’m Cherry,” she said with a bright smile, but it didn’t quite light up her eyes. Her hand thrust out at me, and I found myself wrapping my fingers around it.

“Cherry?” I asked holding back my laugh. Of course, it wasn’t, but she stuck to her game plan. Give her some pigtails and a lollipop and we could have ourselves a real old-fashioned porno.

“Yeah. Silly, I know.” Her thumb rubbed against mine, and I realized I was still touching her. She was warm and smooth. Her grip wasn’t as firm as mine but not weak. She was no pushover. “And yours?”

Mine. She wanted my name.

I glanced over at Antonio as he downed his drink and checked his watch, not in the social mood tonight. He was making to leave.

“Dustan,” I said, slipping my wallet back in my pocket and touching my hand to the handle of my Glock. Antonio was up and saying his goodbyes. It was a fast night for him.

He slapped the back of a few more guys, pointed and laughed at one of the men, and fidgeted with his coat. He ran his hand through his hair, like he was getting ready for a date, but that wasn’t happening. Not tonight.

Or any other night.

Cherry started talking again, and I nodded along, keeping eye contact but focused on Antonio. He would be out the back door in a few moments. I had to get gone.

“I’m gonna take a piss,” I said, standing. Cherry stepped back, her jaw slack, but she didn’t grab for me, though for a split second, I thought she was going to. I headed down the corridor toward the bathrooms and walked right past them, past the offices, and through the back door into the crisp night air.

I walked a ways down the alley, toward the end that intersected with another. Antonio had an odd way about him, and he really shouldn’t be walking through dark alleys alone when he had so much betrayal weighing on his head.

Finding the spot I’d picked out, I pressed myself against the building. Antonio would walk to the end of the alley and make a right turn. His car was parked on the other side of the last building. He took the same walk every time he made his collection. Maybe he liked the threat of being jumped. A little adrenaline rush after pocketing his skim of the take.

The back door of the bar opened, and he stepped out. The overhanging lighting was out, but I could make him out fine. His cough signaled his proximity, and I was ready for him. It would be clean and over within a second; he just needed to take a few more steps.

His phone fucking rang, and he stopped to answer. I managed to keep my annoyance to myself. I couldn’t take care of him while he was on the fucking phone. I needed him to hang up. He got closer, still chatting away on the line. A date. He was making plans for a fuck fest on my time.

My jaw ached, and I forced my muscles to unclench. Being tense wouldn’t help the situation. This wasn’t a hard task. Probably the easiest I’d had in a long time. Arthur could have given this job to anyone with less experience, but I had the time. Plus, I fucking hated thieves. Stealing for survival was one thing, skimming off the top from your own family was stomach turning.

Antonio hung up but was in the middle of tapping on his screen when I stepped out of my cloaked space. He paused, looked up with surprise. The alley was almost always empty. It wasn’t exactly a shady part of town, and a lot of his associates hung out in the surrounding businesses. Common criminals didn’t linger trying to take down these guys.

But I wasn’t a common criminal.

“Who the fuck—” His question wasn’t finished before the bullet cracked through his skull. He crumpled, knees hit the concrete first then facedown into a puddle.

A sound from behind me pulled my attention. A sharp click of heels moved along the ground. My eyes adjusted to the lack of lighting in the alley, and I saw her.

Cherry.

She took small steps backward, back to the bar door.

Fuck.

Loose ends don’t work for me. And she was a very loose end.

I left Antonio. Someone else could deal with him. Man like him ended up dead in an alley, there would be questions but quietly ignored. My problem was in front of me, making her way back to the bar.

Her wide eyes were aimed at me, but she wasn’t meeting my gaze. Probably had something to do with the way I stalked after her, my gun still in my hand, ready to finish what she’d started.

A shame, really.

She was gorgeous.

But that changed nothing.

“Cherry.” I raised my gun, pointing it at her. “Come back here, Cherry,” I ordered, keeping my voice soft but commanding.

She reached behind her, fumbling for the doorknob.

“I just came out for some fresh air,” she lied.

“Come here,” I said again, lowering my gun a fraction.

She used the moment to yank the door open. I lunged forward as her purse snagged on the knob. She moved too fast, and the strap broke. I didn’t follow her inside. She’d be too frightened to stop and tell anyone what she’d seen—at least right then. So, I didn’t pursue. Too many of Antonio’s friends were in there anyway. I had kept a low profile, so far. Chasing a girl through the bar—that would have sparked some memories later on if questions were asked.

I picked up her abandoned purse. It was heavy in my palm. After I inspected the contents, my heart slowed back down. Her wallet was not inside, but her phone was.

Cherry could run for now.

I’d find her easily enough….

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Also by Measha Stone

EVER AFTER

Beast

Tower

Red

GIRLS OF THE ANNEX

Daddy Ever After

Obediently Ever After

DARK LACE SERIES

Club Dark Lace (Boxset)

Unzoned

Until Daddy

DARK ROMANCE STANDALONES

Valor

Kristoff

OWNED AND PROTECTED

Protecting His Pet

Protecting His Runaway

His Captive Pet

His Captive Kitten

Becoming His Pet

Training His Pet

BLACK LIGHT SERIES

Black Light Valentine Roulette

Black Light Cuffed

Black Light Roulette Redux

Black Light Suspicion

Black Light Celebrity Roulette

WINDY CITY

COMING OCTOBER 2019