Protector Daddy

by Roberts, Laylah

  Spike snorted. “If I was going to have an affair it would be with someone much prettier.”

  “Shot down! Damn. We’d make such ugly babies together too.”

  “Can you be serious?”

  “What’s going on?” Hack asked immediately. “You shot? Run over? Stabbed? Kidnapped?”

  Spike sighed. “Why did I call you?”

  “Can’t answer that, my man.”

  Millie. He needed to remember Millie. “What can I do for someone with a migraine?”

  “Migraine?” Hack’s voice became more businesslike. “How bad is it?”

  “Pretty bad. She vomited. Can’t really talk. She’s whimpering in pain.”

  “Has she taken some medication? Has she had migraine’s before?”

  “Yeah, she took these.” He rattled off the name on the medication bottle. “It’s half empty.”

  “Right. That’s a prescription drug. She might get these often. She’s lying down? In a dark, quiet place?”

  “Yep.”

  “Best thing you can do is just keep an eye on her, but don’t bother her too much. Try to keep her hydrated if you can. Although sometimes caffeine can also help. Some people react well to a cold compress or a heat pack. It all depends on the individual. Since we can’t ask her, I would just try to keep her comfortable. She’s staying with you?”

  “Yep.” He knew it would kill Hack not to know more. The guy was as nosey as they came.

  “Huh. That really all you’re gonna say?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is she a Little?”

  He wasn’t sure that was Hack’s business. So he didn’t say anything.

  “Say no more. I get it. If she’s experienced lots of these, she likely knows her triggers. It can be certain smells or food or stress. I’ll send you some articles. I mean, that’s assuming she’s going to be around for a while?”

  Spike didn’t answer that either.

  Hack sighed. “You’re no fun. I’ll send the stuff anyway. Along with my bill. Let me know if you need my help, nothing I love more than making a house call.”

  Spike ended the call. Then he walked back to the bedroom to check on Millie, who appeared to be asleep.

  Time to do some reading. And decide if taking care of her was something he could do . . . without developing anything more.

  19

  Migraine hangovers sucked.

  The excruciating pain in her head was gone. Drugs and sleep had taken care of that. But her body felt like she’d been run over by a truck. Drained and exhausted.

  But at least she could open her eyes and move without feeling like her head was being drilled or wanting to vomit.

  So, yay her.

  Glancing around, she realized she wasn’t in her bedroom. Was this Spike’s room? Why was she in here? Memories rushed back at her and she groaned. Had she really vomited in her bed? Oh no. And he’d had to take care of her. She ran her hand down her side, realizing that she was now dressed in her onesie.

  He’d undressed her.

  He’d seen her rolls. Her stretch marks and cottage cheese thighs.

  This was beyond embarrassing.

  She groaned loudly. The door opened and then the man in question walked in, carrying Mr. Fluffy.

  “Morning,” he said to her.

  “Morning,” she croaked, knowing she was bright red.

  He came over to the side of the bed where an armchair had been pulled close.

  Mr. Fluffy basically jumped from his arms, landing on her chest. She let out a whoosh of breath.

  “Easy, dog,” Spike muttered as the puppy enthusiastically licked her face.

  Urgh. Puppy breath. Lucky he was so darn cute.

  “Morning, Mr. Fluffy,” she crooned. “Did you miss me, baby?”

  “He chewed his way through a pair of my socks and left one of his slobbery chew toys in my boot.”

  “Oh no. I’m so sorry.” She had to bite back a grin.

  “Didn’t find it until I went to put my boots on this morning.” Spike gave Mr. Fluffy a look.

  He just settled on her chest with a yawn, looking unworried.

  She bit her lip to hold in her giggle.

  Spike turned that warning look on her. “Are you about to laugh?”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” she told him.

  He grunted and picked up the dog who let out a low grumbling noise that sounded suspiciously like the one Spike had just made.

  He settled Mr. Fluffy in his dog bed, which he’d obviously gotten from her room and put in here. That was so thoughtful.

  She tried to push herself up as he turned.

  “Here.” He came closer and arranged some pillows behind her back. His scent surrounded her and she felt her body heating at his closeness.

  It wasn’t until he drew back that she managed to take a full breath. He was potent.

  “Thank you for taking care of me,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry about everything yesterday. Is the smell of the smoke gone?”

  “Yep.” He sat on the armchair and studied her. “You’re still pale.”

  Great. No doubt she looked like crap. Had she been drooling again? Please don’t let her have been drooling.

  She ran a shaking hand over her face. “Migraine hangover. I get them sometimes. Just means I feel kind of tired for a day or so. I’ll be fine.”

  “You get migraines a lot?”

  “Ah, it all depends. I’ve gotten them quite a bit these last few months.”

  “There a reason for that?”

  She shrugged. She didn’t really want to go into it.

  “Let me check on your foot.” He drew the blankets back.

  “It’s fine. I don’t even feel it.” Which was kind of a lie. And the look he gave her told her that he knew it was.

  Gently, he peeled back the bandage. Be brave. Be brave.

  Then he grunted. She wondered if that was a good grunt or a bad grunt. He stood and grabbed something off the bedside table. Burn cream. Slowly, gently, he ran it over the burn, leaving tingles in his wake. Then he replaced the bandage.

  Yikes.

  “Need to get you some breakfast.”

  “Oh, I can do that.”

  “Stay where you are,” he commanded as she tried to get out of the bed.

  She froze. “Oh, you don’t want me in your kitchen? That’s fair enough. Are you sure you got the smoke smell out? Maybe I should replace the curtains? They’re hard to get smoke smell out of.”

  Millie felt terrible about yesterday. Not only had she set off his smoke alarms, stunk his house up with smoke and dropped a frying pan on her foot, but he’d had to spend all afternoon at the emergency room then take care of her.

  She had this feeling that he hadn’t just let her sleep it off alone, either. No, she had this vague recollection of opening her eyes at one point and seeing him sleeping in the armchair.

  Not that she was going to ask him about that. It would be embarrassing if it was just a dream. And she didn’t want to know if it was. Because the idea that this muscular, scary-looking biker might have slept in her room, watching over her . . . well, that was a thought that would keep her warm at night for a long time to come.

  So yeah, even if it was made up, she was going to keep that memory close to her heart.

  “For the last time, don’t give a fuck about the kitchen, the curtains, the flooring, any of it. But you also won’t be trying to cook again. The stove is off-limits to you.”

  Chagrined, she bit her lip.

  “Little girls don’t cook.”

  Her eyes widened. Why did he say that? Did he mean that he wanted to . . . no, that wasn’t right?

  “Read that stress can trigger migraines. So can skipping meals and not getting enough sleep.”

  He’d . . . he’d read all that? Why?

  So he can take care of you better? That was silly, though. He barely knew her.

  “You read up on migraines?”

  He frowned “Was worried about you.
Didn’t know how to take care of you. Called a doctor I know. He sent me some stuff on migraines. Told me best idea was to keep you in dark and quiet.”

  “Thank you. That really was the best thing. I’m so sorry I vomited everywhere. I should go clean that up.”

  He gave her an incredulous look. “Do you think I left it?”

  “Oh no. Of course not. I’m sorry. I’m not thinking entirely clearly. You must think I’m an idiot. Bet you’re regretting bringing me here now huh? I understand if you want to—”

  He sighed and leaned forward, taking her nervous hands in his. “Stop.”

  She ceased her babbling. It was a relief to have him stop her before she said something truly idiotic.

  “Do you remember what you called me last night?”

  What she’d called him? No, she didn’t. “No. It wasn’t something rude, was it?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Something rude? You been calling me rude names in your head?”

  “What? No!”

  Amusement warmed his eyes. He was teasing her! She gaped at this more playful side of him. She hadn’t realized it existed.

  “Easy, baby doll,” he soothed as she tried to pull her hands free. “You called me Daddy.”

  Oh God. Would the humiliation never end? Seriously, how much could one woman take?

  “I’m so sor—”

  He leaned over and covered her mouth with his hand. “Swear to God, every time I hear you say sorry, I’m gonna give you a spanking.”

  Her eyes grew wide. Spank her?

  She tried to speak; the words muffled by his hand. Without thinking, she licked his palm. His gaze heated.

  “Did you just lick me?”

  She shook her head. He grew closer, moving his hand from her mouth to whisper in her ear. “You did. If you’re not careful, I’ll give you something else to lick.”

  A shiver washed through her body.

  “Are you . . . are you saying that you’d . . .”

  She couldn’t seem to get the words out. He leaned back. “I want you, Millie. Tried to ignore it. Look where it got me. You in my house, my bed. Feel protective of you. Want you in my bed, under me, riding me, my mouth buried in your pussy, my cock in your mouth.”

  “Right. Well. You could have just said you wanted sex.” She was pretty certain that was the most she’d ever heard him say.

  “Could have.”

  She licked her dry lips.

  “Well, I, ahh, want you too.” So eloquent, Millie. But really, what could she add to what he’d already said?

  “I know,” he said arrogantly.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, and how do you know?”

  “Because every time I get close to you, I see a shiver work its way across your skin. A small tinge of red fills your cheeks. Your breath grows faster. Bet your pussy gets wet.”

  “You’re so arrogant.”

  “It’s not arrogant if it’s the truth.”

  Yep. Arrogant.

  Darn it. She kind of liked it.

  “Never had any intention of ever getting involved with someone again. Not after my wife’s death.”

  He still loved her. That much was clear. It was so sweet. This huge, rough-looking biker was still deeply in love with his dead wife.

  But what does that mean for you?

  “While you’re here, we could help you explore your Little side and this attraction.”

  “Explore my Little side?”

  “Thought I’d never be interested in being someone’s Daddy again, but you, little girl, desperately need one.”

  “I do not,” she muttered.

  He reached out and tilted up her chin. “You’re a menace,” he said bluntly. “You jump from one dangerous situation to another. You need rules. Consequences. Protection. A Daddy who will take care of you but also be firm with you. Who won’t let you wrap him around your little finger.”

  She pouted. “I do not need rules and consequences.”

  “That pretender-Daddy give you any rules or consequences?”

  “He wasn’t pretending. He just didn’t like being in a long-distance relationship.”

  “Guy was a selfish jerk. He didn’t care about your needs or emotions, just what he wanted.”

  “Yeah, I had rules. Obviously calling him back within an hour was one.”

  “I get that. I’d even use that. If you were out without me and I called you, I’d want a call back quickly. But if there was an emergency, if you couldn’t call back for some reason, I wouldn’t punish you. Certainly not by making you kneel on rice for hours. Fucker. Was that even an agreed punishment between you?”

  “Umm, agreed punishment?”

  He swore under his breath. “You have control in this. You need to tell me your limits. And even if those limits change while we’re in the middle of something you can speak up and say something. Say your safeword.”

  “What would you do if I didn’t call you back and didn’t have a good excuse?”

  “Well, without knowing your limits, I’d likely make you write lines. Or ground you from going out without me for a week.”

  She let out a spluttering gasp. “Ground me?”

  “Yep. Consequences depend on the rules broken. Put your health or safety at risk and you’ll likely find yourself over my knee or the sofa or table, getting your behind reddened with my hand or your hairbrush or my belt.”

  His belt?

  She wanted to be horrified. But she was kind of intrigued.

  Seriously. What was wrong with her?

  “So you’re saying that while I’m here that you want to be my . . . to be my Daddy? And my, um, lover?” she squeaked out the last word.

  “Lover?” Amusement filled his face.

  You’re a super dork, Millie. Like, there are dorks and then there is you. Their Queen.

  Queen Dork.

  That was kind of catchy. Queen of the Dorks. Hmm.

  “Millie. Millie! You okay?” He gave her a concerned look. “You need some food. And drink. Shouldn’t have brought this up until you were feeling better.”

  “No, wait, I—”

  “Don’t feel pressured. Think about it. Doesn’t matter what answer you give; I’ll still protect you. But I don’t think I can be your Daddy without wanting to fuck you. And vice versa. Gonna make you breakfast. Stay in bed. You’re not getting out of bed today. You need to rest.”

  Still bossy as hell.

  When he was gone, she slumped back against the pillows. Hell. What was she going to do? It wasn’t that she didn’t want him.

  No, that wasn’t the issue at all

  Problem was, she wanted him too much. So much so that saying goodbye to him when she left just might break her heart.

  But then, when was she likely to get an offer like this again? If she survived her mission, she’d go back to her hometown without even a hint of a romantic prospect in sight.

  This might be her only chance to experience what having a Daddy would be like. To have sex with a man who made her whole body tingle when all he did was lean over her and whisper in her ear.

  Was she really going to say no?

  20

  “Yes!”

  The word flew out of her like a stone from a slingshot. Spike froze, a tray of food in his hands. He walked forward and set it down on the bedside table. She glanced over and saw a bowl of fruit salad.

  Urgh.

  Didn’t the man believe in things like French toast and croissants and donuts?

  Fruit salad was not a meal. It was garnish.

  You know garnish on the side of a big slice of chocolate pie.

  “There a reason you’re scowling at the fruit salad?” Spike asked as he sat in the armchair and reached for the bowl and a fork.

  “Umm, no.”

  “That ‘yes’ mean what I think it means?”

  She blushed and nodded, feeling like an even bigger idiot than normal.

  “Kind of meant for you to think about it longer than fifteen minutes.”r />
  “Oh. Well. When you know, you know,” she said lamely. “I mean, I haven’t had a D-daddy in real life. So maybe I won’t . . . I’m not sure I’ll know what I like exactly . . . I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  He didn’t brush off her fears, instead he watched her closely. “You’re scared.”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t be. I’ll take care of you so you don’t need to be afraid.”

  There was that arrogance. How could she trust him to take care of her? They barely knew each other.

  And yet she did. She felt it deep inside her.

  “You couldn’t disappoint me even if you tried.”

  The statement was so sweet. So unlike Spike, that she just gaped at him.

  Looking slightly awkward, as though he hadn’t meant to say that, he held up a piece of pineapple to her mouth.

  She stared at it with offense. The only pineapple she liked to eat came on a pizza.

  Yes, she liked pineapple on her pizza.

  “Open,” he commanded.

  “I’m not real hungry.”

  “You’re going to eat something. You hardly ate anything yesterday.” He frowned. “Unless you feel nauseous?”

  “A bit,” she admitted.

  “I can make you a smoothie.”

  Oh, awesome.

  “And coffee?” she asked.

  “Eat some food first.”

  Damn, was he the coffee police or what?

  Her bottom lip popped out in a pout.

  “And put that away, it doesn’t work on me.”

  With a long, dramatic sigh, she opened her mouth and he slid the pineapple in. She quickly chewed and swallowed.

  “Good girl.”

  Oh no. There went that shiver again. He eyed her as though he knew the effect those words had on her.

  “What happens next?” she asked.

  “Eat this up and I’ll get you some coffee.”

  “Oh, thank you, God.”

  “You’re gonna stay in bed all day. Only acceptable reason for getting up is the toilet.” He eyed her. “You need to go?”

  “No, I, um, went before.”

  “Did you? When I told you to stay in bed?” he asked calmly.

  “Well, yes, but I didn’t think you meant that I couldn’t go to the bathroom. I was busting.”