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.
Until Daddy: Dark Lace Series Page 15