“Well you’d better go find her,” she shot back.
“I would, but she happens to be sitting directly in front of me, working her way to the mother of all spankings, which strangely isn’t surprising in the least,” he remarked as a slight smile tilted his lips. “Why I ever thought it was safe to leave you alone is beyond my comprehension,” he continued, shaking his head. “I should have known better.”
“Well, I should have known better than to trust you,” she hissed. “After all, you’ve always been able to get anything you want from me, why would you want to put a ring on it?”
“Because I happen to love you with all my heart, you hard-headed Irish brat, that’s why,” he shouted.
“Seems last week you were in love with an imitation French slut, but who am I to judge? I picked an arrogant, kinky ass spanker to fall for.”
“There is not, nor was there, anything going on between me and Bianca. She decided my income was more appealing than her husband’s, and when he threatened to spank her for her behavior, she came to me thinking I would welcome her with open arms. Even if I had not met you, I would never have resumed a relationship with her. Once she left me, belittling me for my needs, it was over. I’m not normally a forgiving man,” he admitted with a grimace.
Susan thought this over for a moment and decided it wasn’t true. He did have a forgiving nature. She’d ruined at least two of his Rolexes, some of his expensive clothing, shoes and several cell phones. She’d hurt him pretty badly by accusing him of treating her as an employee, and he’d forgiven her wanton behavior in Vegas, but the worst time she hurt him was when she almost drowned in the lake. He was angry, no doubt about that, and the spanking that followed was awful, but he’d been devastated as well by the thought of losing her. Now she’d let a lying bitch come between them and hurt him again and maybe ruined his career as well.
“That’s not true; you’ve forgiven me, lots of times,” she said, her voice thick with tears, “even when I didn’t deserve it.”
“I can’t help myself,” he whispered back.
“Are you very angry with me now?”
“Incredibly angry,” he answered truthfully. “You’ll never know what you’ve put me through in the past week, but it was your lack of trust, the fact that you had absolutely no faith in me, that really crushed me,” he said quietly, looking out the window.
Susan slid from her seat and moved to her knees in front of him, laying her head on his lap.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed as her tears soaked his pants. “Right from the beginning, you’ve been honest with me about what you want and need and feel. I can’t think of any time you didn’t follow through and keep your word, even if I begged you not to,” she sniffed, a tiny sob escaping. “I guess especially when I begged you not to. I always felt safe with you, like there weren’t going to be an unpleasant surprises, and then when she showed up, claiming to be your fiancée and treating me like the hired help, I just lost it.”
“Why didn’t you stay and confront me? You’re the bravest woman I know; even when you know you’ll be spanked for something, you never back down. Why did you run from me?” he asked, stroking her hair.
“Because I did believe it,” she admitted, lifting her tear-stained face to him. “If you had come home and taken that woman into your arms, I’d have died right there. All my life things have been just out of my grasp, there one minute, gone the next. I’ve made a point of never wanting anything so badly I couldn’t survive without it, until you. Maybe I could go on without you if I had to, but I couldn’t see it with my own eyes and not be haunted for the rest of my life.”
“Oh, baby,” he sighed, reaching for her and pulling her onto his lap. “I’ll never let you go, never, and you’ll never be able to get rid of me. I’ll always find you, Red, but please don’t ever leave me again,” he choked out. “I couldn’t bear it.”
He held her, all the way to the airport, her tears soaking his shirt, his dripping into her hair. When they managed to pull themselves together, Marcus took her shoulders and sat her up, drying her eyes and his own.
“You realize you’re getting a hell of a spanking for this, don’t you?” he asked simply. “Blow.”
“I know,” she replied kissing his cheek after she obeyed his command.
“Good, now sign these papers so we can get this show on the road.”
Susan took the papers out of his hand and looked them over. They were indeed an application for a marriage license, and she used his briefcase as a firm surface to sign them.
“Is this all?” she asked, looking around.
“What else would there be?” he asked in surprise.
“What about a pre-nup?”
Marcus scowled. “A pre-nup?” he questioned, his jaw tight. “Why would you think I’d have a pre-nup?”
“Well, you have a lot of money, and I…”
“Oh my God, I don’t believe you. Is there no end to your high opinion of me? Get out of the car, Red, before I blister your ass right here,” he ordered, as the driver opened the door. “A pre-nup,” he mumbled as he took her arm, pointing her toward the waiting plane. “I’ll give you a pre-nup, but it won’t have anything to do with money. It will be a promise of what to expect if you don’t knock this shit off. Did you get her things?” he asked the driver, not taking his hand from her arm.
“Yes, sir, and these,” he replied, holding up the briefcase and a gray Walmart bag.
“I’m sorry,” she cried as he pulled her along. “I just thought…”
“I know exactly what you thought, and I’m telling you there is no need of a pre-anything because we are never separating or getting a divorce. What part of ‘I’m never letting you go’ didn’t you understand?”
“Maybe if you kiss me and tell me again, it’ll sink in,” she said, smiling as she stopped at the bottom of the steps.
“Maybe I’ll spell it out on your ass with a wooden spoon,” he replied before sweeping her into his arms and kissing her until her knees gave out.
Susan saw several flashes of light before she realized they were being photographed as he carried her up the stairs. Looking over his shoulder, she watched the driver climbing up the stairs behind them.
“Hey, what’s in the Walmart bag?” she asked, hoping it was some kind of snack. At this point, she was starving and would have welcomed even a healthy treat.
“Duct tape,” he replied with an evil smile. “All the best fictional villains have a back-up plan.”
“Are you the villain in this story?” she asked smiling.
“Ask me later when you’re standing in the corner with my handprints all over your ass.”
“Oh,” she gasped, hiding her face in his shoulder.
Chapter Nine
Erica presented herself at John’s door at 10 a.m. Saturday morning with two suitcases. It had taken some fancy self-talk to get her body to actually move from her comfortable bed. Completely sexually sated, for the first time ever, she wanted nothing more than to wallow in the decadent feeling, recalling everything he’d done to her. To say the man had skills would be an understatement of considerable proportions. He was magnificent, forceful yet tender, with the stamina of a much younger man. Having his undivided attention for the next 30 days was now unbelievably appealing, and if she had to put on a pink ruffled dress and Mary Janes to get it, so be it. She’d be his “little girl” during the day if that’s what he wanted, but come nightfall he better be ready for some “big girl” action, she thought with a grin.
“Good morning sweetheart; you’re right on time,” John said as he opened the door and took the cases out of her hands, placing them on the floor. Closing the door behind her, he wrapped her in a big hug and kissed her on the forehead. “Breakfast is almost ready, and after that we’ll get you settled in your room and I’ll show you around. Come on,” he continued, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen.
Wearing jeans and a T-shirt, he looked very different from the sophistica
ted man she was used to. The apron around his waist and the dish towel thrown over his shoulder surprised her even more. His was an elite address in a very secluded location on the lake. At the very least, she’d expected a servant or two, given his wealth, but the image he presented was that of a down-to-earth, country boy. Knowing he was in his forties, she had a hard time reconciling the man before her with what she knew, or thought she knew, about him.
“Sit down, honey,” he said as he pulled out a chair. The kitchen table was bistro with high stools, and he quickly lifted her, setting her down gently on the seat. Her feet dangled far from the floor, and he slid her up to the table with ease. “How’s your bottom today?” he asked, bending to make eye contact. “Need a pillow?”
“No,” she replied, blushing as she lowered her gaze. “It’s fine.”
“Good. I won’t always offer it, but since it your first day here, I’d make an exception. Did you sleep well?”
“Very well, thank you,” she answered, watching him move around the kitchen as he took plates and glasses from the cupboard. Opening the French-door fridge, he took out a carton of orange juice and poured two glasses, setting one at each place.
“Are you allergic to any foods?” he asked as he picked up his mug of coffee and leaned against the counter.
“Not that I know of,” she answered. “Can I have some coffee?”
“Did you have some already this morning?” he asked, watching her eyes.
She thought about lying. It was the first thing she smelled when she walked in the house.
“Yes, I had a cup at home, but it wasn’t very good.”
“Then no.”
Even though she expected this would be his answer, for some reason it pissed her off.
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Sweetheart, you’re already nervous, why would you want to make it worse?”
“I’m not nervous,” she insisted, inching to the edge of her stool. “I just want a fucking cup of coffee, JB.”
John shook his head, placed his mug on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Really?” he asked. “Already? I’ll say one thing; you never fail to amaze me. Spanked last night and you’re here less than ten minutes and already testing your limits, and mine. Maybe we need to get something straight right off the bat,” he said, straightening and crossing to her.
“I make the rules, you follow them,” he stated calmly, placing his palms on the table and learning toward her, stiff-armed. “That’s not to say you have no voice here, but it won’t be used for sassing, bratting or swearing. I want this to be a fun, healing experience for you, but it can also include various disciplinary measures I won’t hesitate to employ, if necessary.
“Now, are you ready for breakfast, Miss Erica, or do you need the seat of your jeans dusted?” he asked.
It was the look in his eyes that stopped her from jumping down and leaving. A barely perceptible smile, the hint of challenge in his expression had her raising her chin in response.
“I’m ready for breakfast,” she snapped, opening her napkin and laying it across her lap.
“Good girl,” he praised, going to the stove and removing two plates from the warming drawer of his state-of-the art appliance. The shiny stainless steel clearly reflected Erica’s face as she stuck out her tongue, but he let it go. One step at a time, he thought, carrying the dishes to the table.
She enjoyed her heart-shaped blueberry pancakes and the two sausage links he placed before her. John had the same, although in a much larger quantity. They talked causally throughout the meal, and when they were finished, Erica swiveled her chair and prepared to jump down and help with the dishes.
Instantly he was as her side, lifting her in his strong arms but not putting her down.
“You don’t have to do this. A lot of the clubs I go to have these type of tables, and I’m used to getting up and down by myself.”
“That may be, but I’ll bet you’re wearing very high heels and not flats at these places. I don’t want you to fall and get hurt, sweetheart, so here you will allow me to assist you.”
“Okay,” she replied, slightly breathless. The desire to wrap her legs around his waist, lay her head on his shoulder and hug him stunned her. Giving a little wiggle, she sighed in relief when he set her on her feet. Turning away she reached for the plates on the table, and he promptly took them out of her hands.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I was going to do the dishes.”
“Little girls do not do the dishes,” he informed her, taking her hand and leading her from the kitchen. “Let me show you your room, and you can spend some time getting familiar with your new things. I’ll do the dishes, and then we’ll take a walk down to the lake. How does that sound?” he asked, dropping her hand and picking up her cases. “Let me carry your suitcases up for you.”
Erica followed him up the stairs. On the landing there was a window seat with yellow cushions in front of a huge arched window that looked out onto a side lawn. The view was beautiful, and she thought about the lie she’d told him last night. This was exactly the kind of house she’d imagined as she made up the story of her past, and she paused, wanting to memorize the picture.
“Come on, kiddo. We’re burning daylight,” John called from the top of the stairs.
“Is that leftover cowboy lingo?” she teased, running up the steps.
“Could be, I’ll always be a Texan at heart,” he laughed.
The hallway was wide and long. Skylights illuminated it, and there was an alcove that housed a desk and chair. The many doorways were placed well apart, and John continued past several before he stopped in front of one that was decorated with vines and flowers. “Erica” had been hand-painted across it in periwinkle blue.
“This is your room,” he said, swinging the door open and waiting for her to enter. “If there is anything else you need, just let Daddy know, alright?”
“Listen, JB, about the whole ‘daddy’ thing, I don’t know if I can do that, call you Daddy, I mean,” she continued, standing in the doorway, looking at her feet.
Setting her bags inside the door, he straightened and gently placed a finger under her chin, tipping her head up. “Why not?” he asked, his eyes holding hers.
“I don’t know, it’s just that I’ve never called anyone Daddy before, I mean, never, not even when all that ‘who’s your daddy’ crap was popular. I just couldn’t do it.”
“What about Big Daddy?” he teased.
“Oh, God,” she gasped. “I don’t know, that sounds like I’m referring to your…um”
“Relax baby, I’m just teasing you,” he assured her with a smile as he stroked her cheek. “Let’s wait and see what happens. For now, check out your room and change while I clean up the kitchen and wear something pretty, there are lots of new clothes for you to choose from.” Kissing the top of her head, he walked down the hall whistling.
To say that the room he had prepared for her was awe-inspiring was an understatement. Decorated in shades of white, lavender and blue, it was the perfect background for someone with her coloring. A four-poster double bed was centered between two windows and covered with a ruffled lavender and white gingham bedspread. Lacy Priscilla curtains let in plenty of light with the blinds open. The furniture was white and stenciled with the same pattern that was on the door. There was a huge rocking chair, a three-story Victorian dollhouse and a bookshelf filled with books, dolls and games. A small desk was placed in front of the window that faced the back of the house, and the lake and an enormous white teddy bear sat in a straight-back chair in one corner. On the dresser sat a white wooden hairbrush and comb set, and even that had her name stenciled on the back.
Oh man, she thought as she walked around the room, lightly touching everything. He’d put a lot of thought into this. It couldn’t have been more perfect. Walking to the closet, she opened the door and gasped, her hand flying to her throat. Row after row of dresses lined one side of the huge walk-in
, in every color imaginable. Some were very short, likely to expose her bottom if she bent over, and others were suitable for wearing in public, but all were designed with a youthful girl in mind. Erica was struck with how, well, pretty everything was. Taking out several dresses, she sighed in relief. They weren’t blatantly childish, just fun and flirty. The opposite side of the closet had shelves and double hanging bars, holding jeans, tops, shorts, sweaters and jackets. There were hats, purses, gloves and shoes lined up on the shelves. Straight ahead of her was a floor-to-ceiling mirror and a bench.
Backing out of the room, she had to wonder whether he ever planned on letting her go. If she changed her clothes three times a day, she could never wear everything he’d purchased. Opening another door, she found herself in a pretty blue and white bathroom. A pedestal tub dominated the room, complete with a set of steps leading up to it. Getting in and out of that might be a little tricky, she realized. The hand-held sprayer rested on a Victorian faucet, and she noticed there was a drain in the blue and white tiled floor. There was a single-bowl sink with matching antique faucets as well as a huge cabinet in the wall that contained fluffy towels, an assortment of soaps and shampoos, as well as a few other items that had her face paling as she quickly shut the door.
Going back into the bedroom, she sat down on the side of the bed, stunned. This guy didn’t do anything half way. Given that she agreed to do this, it still shocked her to see what lengths he’d gone to, to try and recreate a childhood for her. It was obvious that every single item had been purchased with her in mind, and he certainly hadn’t accomplished this overnight. He must have started weeks ago, planning and scheming to get her in exactly this position. But why? Flopping back on the bed, Erica searched her memory.
John wasn’t looking for a little girl when he completed the application process at Sugar Babies. She’d given him many opportunities to openly describe what he wanted and clearly, it wasn’t a woman/child. So what brought him to this point and why her, when he could easily have been matched with someone who would have loved being his baby? Well, she decided, getting up to check out what was in the dresser, whatever the reason, she was going to try and enjoy herself. A whole month of an attractive man catering to her every whim couldn’t be a bad thing, and after last night, she’d make sure she got some big-girl time, too.
The Last Match Page 10