“Have you seen Mr. Fluffy? I can’t believe I forgot about him. He’s not in my bedroom. I don’t know where he could be…”
He placed a hand over her mouth. “Over there.”
He nodded to the living room. Where Mr. Fluffy sat sleeping in front of the fireplace. The fire wasn’t on, but Spike had found an old rug and set it down there for him.
“Oh, thank goodness.”
“Heard him scratching at your door. Let him out. Fed him. Now he’s sleeping. Again.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear him. Thank you for looking after him.” She glanced around the kitchen. “Wow. You can cook?”
“Yep. Go get dressed. It’s nearly ready.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Don’t need to thank me.”
He set everything out and she returned a few minutes later dressed in an ankle-length skirt that was black with red poppies on it and a fitted black shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail and still dripping down her back. He shook his head.
“Sit.”
She sat on a stool and he left to grab a clean towel. When he returned, she wasn’t at the counter but was crouching, talking to that ridiculous dog.
“Come here.”
When she grew close, he lifted her back onto the stool.
“Oh. You need to stop doing that.”
He grunted. Seemed to him that the only way he could get her to do what he told her was to pick her up and move her around himself.
Grabbing her ponytail between the ends of the towel, he squeezed, drying it off.
“I can do that.” She tried to turn, to take the towel, but he held it out of her reach and gave her a look.
She sighed but turned around again, letting him dry her hair until it stopped dripping.
“Gonna catch a cold, going around with wet hair.”
“Pretty sure that’s just a myth. A cold is a virus. You don’t catch a cold from being cold.”
Another grunt.
“It was really nice of you to cook, but I don’t really eat breakfast.”
She would while she was here.
Without thinking, he leaned over her and started cutting up the toast and eggs into bite-sized pieces.
“Um, what are you doing?”
He froze. Shit. He placed the knife and fork down. With a sigh he sat next to her and reached over to grab his glass. He drank some smoothie down before replying.
“You’re a Little, aren’t you?”
Did he really just ask her that?
Her heart raced. Well, she guessed it might be obvious. At least to someone who knew about age play. She licked her dry lips, unsure about how to respond. Was he horrified? Upset? Happy?
Damn it! Why was he so hard to read? Why couldn’t he give her some clue here?
“You . . . I . . . it . . .” She took in a deep breath. “Should have just stayed in bed this morning.”
“I did tell you to sleep until at least nine.” He nodded over at the clock on the oven which said it was just before eight.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He gave a nod and took a bite of food. “Thought so.”
“Are you? I mean . . . you obviously know about . . .”
“I was a Daddy Dom. Once. My wife was my Little.”
She gave him a surprised look but didn’t say anything. She realized how little she knew about him. Especially considering she was staying in his house.
What was she even doing here? How long would it take for that asshole to forget about her?
Where was his wife now? Had they gotten divorced? The way he looked as he spoke of her though . . .
“She was?”
“Yep. She died. About ten years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” She wished she could give him a hug, but she was too scared of being rejected.
“Haven’t had a Little since. Haven’t wanted to be anyone’s Dominant or Daddy. Haven’t been in any sort of relationship since.”
That was so sad. She guessed he’d loved her so much that it hurt to imagine being with someone else like that. Tears welled in her eyes.
He watched her curiously then leaned over to brush away a tear. “You crying for me?”
She nodded.
“Don’t,” he whispered. “It was a long time ago.”
“You must have loved her a lot, though.” To not have been with anyone else for ten years.
He gave a nod. “Eat. Drink.”
She reached for the smoothie, taking a sip and barely refraining from wrinkling her nose. That tasted very healthy.
“Do you mind if I grab a coffee?”
“After the smoothie.”
He wasn’t serious? But the look he gave her told her that he was. Well, she guessed it was his coffee. But what if she didn’t want the smoothie?
He went to a lot of trouble to make breakfast, Millie. Don’t be a brat.
She wasn’t really a brat by nature. But she really did love coffee.
“Little girls shouldn’t drink coffee.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Just because I’m a Little doesn’t mean I can live without coffee. Coffee is life. It’s what gets me out of bed each morning. I can’t function without coffee.”
“Drink your smoothie and you’ll get one.”
She scowled. “Just because I’m a Little doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.”
“You’re right.”
Okay, that surprised her. She also sensed a but.
“I’d boss you around regardless.”
She sighed. She just bet he would.
Bossy, arrogant biker.
“I’m really sorry about losing it like that last night. I don’t usually cry.”
“You don’t?”
“Crying doesn’t make anything better, right?”
He just eyed her.
“You had a Daddy before?” he asked.
She picked up her fork, moving her food around on her plate and hoping that he was fooled into thinking she was eating it.
“Yes, but only online.”
“Online?”
“I had the same boyfriend since high school. After he broke up with me, I felt lost. Alone. I didn’t have many ways of meeting people. Not many eligible bachelors came through the doors of the library. Anyway, my ex had always been embarrassed by my Little needs. So I decided I needed to find a Daddy. I met him online on a BDSM dating site. He seemed really nice. Kind but firm. Protective. Polite.” And why was she telling him all this?
“What happened?”
“We talked for months online. But he lived in Texas. My Grandma wasn’t very well. She raised me and I was taking care of her. He wanted me to come visit him but I couldn’t leave her. I guess he got annoyed and found someone who lived closer to him.”
She glanced up to find him scowling. “Why the fuck didn’t he come to you?”
She shrugged. “He said it was my job to come to him. That he was the dominant. He made the rules.”
“Bunch of bullshit.”
“But . . . the Dom does make the rules, right?”
“Yeah, but you agree to them. They aren’t fucking forced on you. And you had a good reason for not visiting. He should have got on a fucking plane and come to you.”
“He said he needed someone with a less complicated life. That if I’d really wanted to be with him, I’d have found a way. Once he made me kneel on rice for two hours because I missed a phone call from him and didn’t call back for several hours. I’d had to call Grandma an ambulance. She’d collapsed. I was in such a panic; I left the house without my phone. I called him back as soon as I could. But he was so mad.”
“Mother-fucking bastard.”
“I should have remembered my phone. The rule was I had to call him back within an hour if he called me.”
“Fucker can make an exception for emergencies. Your Grandma was being taken away in an ambulance.”
“I was so sure she was going to die. I just wanted . . . I wanted him to tell
me it was okay. That everything would be all right.”
“Instead the asshole punished you.”
“You wouldn’t have punished your wife?”
“My wife wouldn’t have been going through that alone. If by some chance, we were apart, you can bet your sweet ass I’d be getting myself on a plane back to her. And then I’d hug her tight. And tell her everything would be okay.”
“I bet she’d have believed you too.” How she wished she’d had someone like Spike to help her. Someone capable and caring.
“All this time, I’ve thought I was the problem. That it was my fault things didn’t work out between us. That I should have made more of an effort.”
“Sounds like that’s what this asshole wanted you to think. Relationship goes two ways. Dom isn’t always right. The sub doesn’t have to do all the work. Doms make mistakes. Believe me.”
She wanted to ask more, like how his wife had died. But it didn’t feel like she had the right. It wasn’t like she was volunteering everything about herself.
Reaching over, he grabbed her fork from her hand and used it to pick up a piece of egg, holding it to her mouth.
She sighed. “I can feed myself.”
“Clearly not. Since you’re not eating.”
She took the mouthful, knowing he could out-stubborn her.
“I don’t like breakfast.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he chided in an almost absentminded voice.
She noticed he’d already eaten all his breakfast and drunk all of that way-too-healthy smoothie.
“I need something lighter for breakfast. Like cereal.”
“Muesli?”
“I was thinking of Lucky Charms or Fruit Loops.”
“That’s just sugar.”
She sighed. “I like sugar.”
He shook his head, forking up some more food. Was she really going to sit here and let him feed her? Maybe she was.
“Four more bites and drink your smoothie then you get a cup of coffee.”
Darn it. She might have been able to put her foot down if he’d gone all commando on her. But bribery worked all too well.
With a sigh, she took the next bite. For someone who claimed to no longer be a Daddy Dom he was definitely acting like one. She didn’t know what to make of it. Or how to ask him. Because if she pointed it out, maybe he’d stop.
And her Little was lapping this up like parched ground in a rainstorm. It felt like she’d been starved for affection.
Would he give her a hug if she asked?
That was likely taking it too far.
He fed her in silence and she managed to down the smoothie with only a few grimaces. He rolled his eyes at her dramatics but he made her a coffee afterwards.
“I’ll do the dishes,” she offered as he started tidying up.
“Stay.” He pointed at her.
She refrained from barking like a dog. Just.
“Starting to think you have some control issues.”
The look he sent her clearly said, well duh.
“Spike?”
“Hmm?”
“How is this going to help? Me staying here? Are we just outwaiting that Devil’s Sinners jerk, Corey? How long will that take? I have things to do. I can’t just stay here and twiddle my thumbs all day.”
He had made quick work of tidying the kitchen and now leaned back against the counter, facing her, his arms crossed over his thick chest. His T-shirt was tight around his biceps and she felt her heartbeat pick up.
“What things do you have to do?” he asked.
“Stuff.”
“Not going to tell me exactly why you came here?”
“I told you, I’m looking for someone.” It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the full truth, either.
He simply stared at her. She had to fight hard not to fidget. The man should have been an interrogator. He had the whole intimidating act down pat.
“This isn’t a long-term solution.”
“It’s not.” He leaned forward, placing his hands on the island in front of him. “Best solution would be you going home. Steele doesn’t want that until he knows who the rat is, but that’s his issue. You wanna go, I’ll get you home safe.”
“I don’t. Not yet. I can’t.”
“Then you stay here until I’m sure you’re safe.”
“Why? Why do you care?”
He stared at her for a long moment then turned away. “Gonna hit the gym then do some work. If you go outside, stay on the patio. Watch TV, there’s books and magazines. Help yourself.”
Her shoulders slumped as he walked off. He wasn’t going to tell her.
Then he stopped in the doorway, his shoulders tensing before he turned back. “Couldn’t save my wife.”
Oh, so that was it. He was helping her because of his wife.
“Am I like her?” she asked.
“Not at all.”
Ouch. For some reason that hurt. A lot.
He walked out.
“Wait!”
He turned again; his face shut down. She knew she wouldn’t get anything else personal out of him.
“Can I use your Wi-Fi? I have my laptop.”
He nodded and walked over to a drawer, drawing out a pen and paper. After writing something down, he left it on the counter. She looked over to read it as he left.
Jacqueline2010
Oh hell. Was that his wife’s name? Was that the year she’d died?
16
Millie frowned at her laptop screen. She’d tried searching for any information on Luther Franklin. His father. Even Jared Bartolli.
Sure, a few things came up. Especially around the murder of Luther’s father. But nothing that told her much that she didn’t already know.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes, leaning her head back. She’d been on her laptop nearly all day with nothing to show for it except a sore neck and aching temples. It didn’t feel like a migraine was developing but she knew she should probably take a rest for a while. Too much screen time could affect her and she wasn’t doing that well at managing her stress levels.
Perhaps she should take up yoga. It was meant to help with migraines. And that had to count as exercising, right?
“Come on, Mr. Fluffy.” She opened the sliding door and picked the puppy up, taking him outside so he could walk around and pee. When he’d done his business, she walked back into the house. She’d barely seen Spike today. He’d quickly popped in to grab a sandwich for lunch, making one for her as well. Then fled again.
Was he avoiding her? Worry sat like a brick in her stomach. She hated that she might be making him feel awkward in his own house. Deciding it might be better if she just went up and hid in her bedroom, she grabbed Mr. Fluffy and headed towards the stairs.
But instead, she found herself moving towards the other side of the house. The one he hadn’t shown her.
Yes, she was nosey as hell. But what was the harm? So long as she didn’t get caught.
There was a faint noise, like a bass. Did he have music playing?
“Just a small peek, Mr. Fluffy. Shh.” She walked down the corridor and knocked on one door. “Spike?”
No answer. She opened it and peeked in to see what looked like an office. There was a huge wooden desk, a chesterfield sofa and bookshelves along the back wall. This room had the most lived-in look of the whole house.
She wondered what he did for a job?
“We probably shouldn’t go in there, aye, Mr. Fluffy?”
“That would be a wise decision,” a deep voice said from behind her.
With a scream, she turned and gaped up at him, her free hand on her racing heart.
Mr. Fluffy wriggled to get down. She set him on his feet and he trotted off down the corridor.
Traitor.
Was he really going to leave her here? To face Spike’s wrath on her own?
“I . . . um . . . well, you could make some noise!”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re tell
ing me off for being too quiet when I move because you got caught sneaking around?”
“Well, I, ahh . . .” Shoot. When he put it like that, it sounded bad.
“I wasn’t sneaking around!”
“No? Then how come you look so guilty?”
“This isn’t my guilty face. This is my surprised face. You nearly gave me a heart attack is all.”
“Maybe if you weren’t sneaking around you might have heard me.”
“Don’t think so, you move around like a ballerina. All light and graceful.”
“Graceful?” he growled. “Ballerina?”
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like to dance?”
“No,” he snarled. “I don’t.”
Hmm, might be time to leave. “Is that Mr. Fluffy I hear? I think he needs to go out. Gotta go. Bye!”
She knew she looked ridiculous as she fled. But she needed to get away from him before she said something else stupid.
Suck a dork.
* * *
A knock on her bedroom door later that evening surprised her.
“Hello? Who’s there?” she called out then she whacked her palm against her forehead. Like there was more than one person who it could be.
Well, he could have a friend over.
A friend. Right.
Doofus.
“Spike,” he said dryly. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Oh, I’m not hungry,” she lied.
“Stop hiding and come eat.”
Nope. Not happening. She’d just stay in here, thank you very much.
“Your butt isn’t on a stool in five minutes time at the kitchen counter then I’m coming back up and carrying you down. Can tell you now, I won’t be in a good mood if I have to do that.”
Was he ever in a good mood?
But if this was him in a good mood, did she want to see his bad mood?
Hmm. No.
With a sigh, she forced herself to get up and walk downstairs. She grabbed Mr. Fluffy, carrying him. After giving him his dinner, she sat at the counter staring at the baked potato, with fixings to put on it sitting on the counter. There was also a green salad and a three-bean salad.
The back slider opened and Spike walked in carrying a plate with a steak on it.
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