Bull sighed, leaning back against the seat in true defeat. "Oh. You heard that, did you?"
"Yeah. For the record, I'd regressed. I didn't suddenly become hard of hearing."
"You didn't bring it up last night."
"I couldn't bring anything up last night."
"That's not entirely accurate," he said, looking down at his cock.
"You know what I mean."
After a few quiet minutes, during which his arousal hadn't subsided in the least, especially since the cause of it was sitting right next to him, he ventured speculatively, "You've got several spankings coming, you know. We could go to my place and get one or two of them over with." He eyed her slyly, then looked away, not at all sure whether that kind of gambit was going to work with her.
"I most certainly do not!"
He knew he had her, at that moment, and began ticked things off on his hand. "Last night, in forty-degree weather—or less—you went out without a coat or hat or galoshes or anything. It'll be a wonder if you don't get pneumonia."
Lark shrugged. "I never wear that kind of thing, but then I don't usually end up on my knees in the muck, either. I hate to admit it, and it's probably setting a very bad precedent, but you might have a valid point."
"That's spanking number one," he enumerated smugly. "And how many times did I call you this morning and you couldn't be bothered to pick up or return my text, either?"
"Well…"
"Spanking number two."
She sighed. "Just for shits and giggles, and?"
He stared out the window contemplatively. "Gimme just a minute. I know there were three." It only took him a second or two. "Oh—yeah. Leaving my place last night without so much as a goodbye kiss."
"You were asleep, and you'd been…active all night. I figured you'd need to be up early, and I didn't want to wake you. You can't spank me for that."
"How the hell'd you get home? I know George's taxi stops running at eleven on weeknights."
"I was all set to get an Uber, but I guess I left my keys in my car—which I never do—and I looked out the window to see that some nice person dropped it by your place for me." The raw truth of the matter was that, by the time her car rolled to a stop behind all of the cop cars and ambulances, she was barely driving it at all, so she hadn't been at all surprised that she'd left her keys in the ignition. She was heartily glad that was all she'd done.
"That was probably Randall, and it's a good thing he did that, because I don't think Uber's made its way to Coal Harbor yet." Bull turned in his seat. "All right, kitten, I'll give you that one, but you should at least get a few smart swats for calling me 'Detective' when I spent the first half of last night taking care of you like a child and the second half Domming you and bringing you off—which, by the way, was one of the most spectacular things I've ever seen."
She could feel her cheeks burning at that, and she couldn't resist the urge to rub her thighs together restlessly at the memories that flooded through her.
Suddenly, though, he leaned across her to open her door again.
"You want me to get out?" she asked, not sure whether or not she should be offended.
Bull caught her wrist, pulling her face close to his, but carefully not touching her in any other way. "I'll tell you what, little girl. I'm going to give you a choice, which isn't something that comes naturally to me in this situation, at all, so don't think you're going to get a lot of them. The bare facts are that, as long as you stay in this car with me, I won't be in any kind of condition to go into work. So, you have to either go into the station and tell the chief that I'll be in in about ten, fifteen minutes, and I'll go somewhere and take care of my situation myself. Or you can close the car door and stay with me." His eyes narrowed. "But know this—if you choose the latter, I'm going to drive you to my house and the first thing I'm going to do is paddle your backside for the first thing I listed, and you'll be lucky if I don't take care of the second thing, too, while I'm at it, one right after the other."
She was nibbling on her lower lip and looking up at him with a mixture of hunger and hesitance that he found incredibly intoxicating.
"Then, even with your bottom as sore as I'm going to do my best to make it, the next thing I'm going to do is make you come for me, until you're quite sure there's not an orgasm left in you. And that's when I'm going to fuck you and prove you very wrong."
By the time he finished his impassioned speech, she was breathing heavily, and Lark didn't say anything to him. Her eyes locked with his, she reached her hand out blindly beside her and closed the car door.
The devilish grin on his face was almost as nice a reward to her as his low, dark, "Good girl."
Chapter 6
Later that evening, lying on her side against him, one leg draped high over his thigh with her fingers tangled in the thatch of hair on his chest, she asked, "Didn't you need to go back in to work?"
Bull chuckled. "Not really. Considering how much time I've put into the department over the years—not even including the hours on this case, alone, that have been above and beyond the call of duty—I'm owed a boatload of comp time. Aside from work, I don't have much of a life." He nuzzled his nose against her ear. "Besides, Dale's not that kind of boss. He knows I bust my hump for him, and if I want to take a little time for myself—even off the books—he's always cool with it."
"All bosses should be so understanding."
"I agree." He looked expectant, mouth open like he was going to ask her something, then he closed it and didn't, as if he'd mentally vetoed the idea.
She was used to seeing that, as people decided they would be considered impolite if they questioned her about being an empath. "What?"
"What, what?"
Lark sighed. "Just spit it out. Really. It's fine."
"Sure?" he asked, rolling on top of her suddenly, using his own legs to spread hers.
She sucked in her breath at the stinging that was renewed in her all too well attended to rear end. "Bull! What are you doing? You know I'm still sore—"
"I should damned well hope so! If you told me your butt wasn't still hurting, I'd have to spank you all over again."
"Like hell, you would!" She jutted her chin out at him bravely, because it was about the only thing that was left for her to do to show him that she wasn't intimidated by him in the least. She couldn't move her lower body at all, her legs were useless— pinned back by him as they were— as much as her hands were, since he had deftly caught them above her head.
He smiled gently down at her, cupping her face with his free hand. "I just want to get you into the right frame of mind to answer me honestly and remind you that I won't be very happy with you if I think you're lying to me."
She snickered. "Clairvoyant, are we, Detective?"
The title was no sooner out of her mouth than he had moved—more quickly than she would have bet he could—to sit back, lift her ankles in the air and give her a spanking in the diaper position—the most ignominious of all positions, to her mind.
"Ow! Stop! I'm sorry—I'm sorry! Bull! Bull! Bull! Please, oh God, stop!"
He did, eventually, but she knew it wasn't because of anything she'd said or done.
She ended up in the same position again, with her bottom throbbing even worse now than it had been before.
Bull dried her tears with his thumb, brushing tiny, wet curls away from her face.
"So, what—what's your question?"
It surprised her that he still seemed so hesitant to ask her, his eyes darting to hers and away again, then back, and it made her wonder what the hell it could be that he wanted to know?
"You're submissive," he stated.
She smiled. "No! Really?"
That got her a glare. "Do you need another spanking, little girl? Because I'd certainly be glad to deliver it if you sass me again."
Lark was nothing if not contrite. "No! Please. I'll be good."
"Damn straight."
He continued to give her a bit of a ste
rn look, and she did her best meek look, although they both knew she wasn't.
"And, as you said yourself, when you encounter something like last night and become overwhelmed by it, it can make you regress."
"Yes," Lark nodded.
"So my question is, uh, do you ever regress when you're not feeling so horribly overwhelmed?"
She took a deep breath. "You're asking if I have a little."
"Yes," he agreed, glad that she was familiar with the term.
Now she was the one who was hesitating and avoiding looking at him. "I don't think going down that road would be good for either one of us."
Bull frowned deeply. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it's not like I live here. I'm here consulting on a case. I live in Massachusetts."
"I know all of that."
She took another tack. "So, do you see this as a permanent thing between us? Are you going to follow me back to Mass? Do you expect me to stay down here and be with you?"
"I honestly don't know." He hadn't thought far enough ahead to decide whether or not he believed she could do what she said she could, much less contemplating a long-term relationship with her.
"To answer your question, yes, I do have a little. But—except when I can't help it— I'm not going to let her out."
He looked hurt at that, more so than she would have imagined.
"I can't, Bull. I hope you understand that when we inevitably part, it'll devastate her, and I really try to avoid that for her as much as I can."
He shook his head slowly, looking as if he felt guilty. "No, no. I do understand, and I hadn't really thought of that, and I'm sorry I asked."
"Don't be. You've already seen her, and she already trusts you, which is a good thing. I just don't think it should go any further than that."
Bull rolled them, all of a sudden, so that she was lying atop him instead, a hand on her bottom, cupping it gently, the other lying delicately on her back. Lark had bared her soul to him—in several different ways—and he was honored by the trust she'd shown to him, and he felt that the least he owed her was to open himself to her.
"That's just something I've been looking for, for a long time. There aren't a lot of submissives in this part of the world, and there are even fewer adult little girls. I've always wanted someone to care for—a submissive— but then I've also always wanted more than that, too. I've wanted to go that extra step into Daddying someone."
"Well, when you find the right woman, she's going to be very lucky to have you," Lark told him, and she meant every word.
"I'll try my best, but I don't know if I can stop calling you 'little girl' and telling you that you're a good girl, things like that. It's something you bring out in me. I certainly don't say things like that to Hobbs or Donna."
"I'm not asking you to." She ran her hand gently over his face. "I love it when you call me that. But that's it—that's as far as it goes."
He was frowning, but he agreed. "All right. But if I find you in the state you were in again, I'm going to do the same things as I did before."
"I would hope so." Lark looked him dead in the eye. "Truly. You were my savior, and, although I know it's a terrible imposition, I would be eternally grateful if you'd do it again, should the situation ever—God forbid—come up."
Bull rolled them back over, slow sliding himself inside her, watching avidly as she struggled to accept him, enjoying it almost too much as he flexed his hips forward, inch by inch, until she was panting and writhing beneath him, pinned to his mattress, lock to key.
"It's not any kind of an imposition, babygirl. It's my honor."
It turned out to be a fatalistic conversation, because that weekend, they were both called to an address on the outskirts of town. They were at his place together, on his couch, with her lying naked on top of him, almost asleep, her red bottom—which he had barely allowed to become any other color since they'd gotten together—a truly beautiful sight to see when he glanced down occasionally.
She was just about asleep. Bull could feel his own seed leaking out of her and onto his leg and that was one of the reasons why she was so exhausted. He'd dedicated himself to wearing her out.
Then his phone began to blow up just before hers did. He stood with her still in his arms, setting her gently down onto her feet and holding her while he took the call from Randall and handed her the chiming, buzzing phone.
She answered the call from the chief, taking only a few steps away from him and clinging tightly to his hand.
When they were done, he took her into his arms again, already feeling her stress and seeing it in her eyes, wishing he could talk her out of going, but he knew that, despite the great cost to her, she wouldn't let him do that.
They were being called to a farmhouse on the outskirts of town. He was ready before she was, but that was okay, because he was leaving before her.
They lingered at the door, with him trying to wrap his body around her protectively already. "I'll be right there, I promise, as soon as I can. Holly and Randall and Dane, they'll all be looking out for you." He kissed the tip of her nose and waggled a finger at her. "And you'd better be wearing your new coat, little girl, or you're going to find yourself bent over my knee, eventually."
She nodded, already crying and wishing she wasn't. This was hard enough on him as it was, she knew.
The last thing he did, after hugging her again, fit to break her, was to put a hand on either side of her face and stare down into her eyes. "You are m—an incredibly brave and tremendously strong girl, and you won't go through it alone. I'll be with you as soon as I can. Try to hold onto that thought when you're spinning out, okay? If you can?"
Lark nodded. "I will," she promised.
He stepped out the door, then back in to hug and kiss her again before leaving, finally.
She stood on the porch and waved goodbye at him until long after he'd disappeared.
It had been Bull's idea to put some kind of plan in place for the next time this happened, something that would take into consideration the fact that, afterwards, he could help her by suppressing the very things that were terrifying her the most.
Donna arrived not long after Bull had left, and she drove Lark to within about fifty feet of where everyone else was. They'd tested it, and he had about a twenty foot in diameter range—roughly—where he affected her—or everyone else—or whatever it was, where his own peculiar magic worked in her favor. So, they waited until they got a text from him that he was done and out of range himself, so that she could go in.
As much as he felt horrible just standing around while she was voluntarily enduring something so horrendous, he knew it was much worse for her. He stood outside his car, wishing to high heaven that he hadn't decided to quit smoking. He'd never once missed it—until now.
It was Hell on Earth to watch her slowly walk into that place—he'd already seen the carnage that awaited her, but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to be with her.
Dale had come through, though.
He had Randall videoing all of it—but he could barely stand to see how utterly devastated she was, so he exited out of it. His impotent frustration had him wanting to hit something, wishing there was a wall or a door nearby that he could punch his fists through.
"Bull?"
"Yeah, Chief?"
"You watching this?"
"No, I-I just couldn't."
"I think you'd better come, whether she's done or not."
He hit the remote start on his car, reaching in and grabbing something off the dashboard before bolting towards the house, not caring if he mowed everyone between him and her down on his way to her, but he consciously slowed himself down when he got to the front door, not wanting to scare her in any way.
The living room, on his right, was where it had gone down, obviously. There was blood splattered everywhere, although he'd made sure the body had been removed. She'd told him that she didn't need to see it to do what she needed to do.
Randall was st
anding there, with his phone still held out in front of him.
"Get out."
The younger man didn't need to be told twice.
Lark was on her hands and knees, rocking back and forth and shaking, teeth chattering loudly together, and keening low in her throat. They wouldn't let her get any closer, so that she wouldn't disturb the scene. Randall had been standing in front of her to prevent that, or she would have crawled right into the pools of blood and matter. She looked downright otherworldly—eyes unfocused, skin even paler than usual, and a veritable puddle of pink tears beneath her face, more dripping from her chin every minute.
"Babygirl, it's me," he said, hunching down to approach her as he had done before, making himself as small as he could. "It's Bull, little one. Can you find my voice? You said I take everyone else away. It's just me and you and Wabbit here right now."
Nothing he was saying seemed to be helping her, and the way she was trembling made him heartily wish that all of this was happening to him instead of her.
"Turn away from the pain, Lark." He instilled a bit of sternness to his tone, and her head jerked a bit, and he continued to speak in that vein. "That's it. Concentrate, babygirl. Listen to my voice."
He thought he was getting somewhere, until, all of a sudden, she leaned forward and began to bang her head against the floor—hard and loudly enough that he knew he needed to stop it before she did any damage to herself.
Standing above her in an instinctively dominant stance, he ordered strictly, "Lark, stop it!"
Although she did obey him, she also seemed to collapse in on herself, crying and moaning even harder.
Bull crouched down again, forcibly tipping her face up to his, grimacing at the bruise she was going to end up with on her forehead. Even after such a short time, it was already quite bloody and black and blue. "Concentrate on me. Listen to my voice. It's me. Bull. You're safe."
He repeated the same things to her over and over, sometimes more sternly, although it wasn't easy for him to be that way with her when she was in this state, but mostly just coaxing as he tried to talk her down. "Come to me. Do as I tell you, little girl."
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