Daddy's Demands: Twenty-Five Steamy Daddy Dom Romance Novellas

by Madison Faye

  “Anything else?” I asked, with just the smallest bit of sarcasm.

  “I really need to pee. Do you think I can slip into the bathroom?” she asked and it was only by the grace of God that I didn’t just murder her on the spot. Taking her arm, I was far less polite as I pushed back to the door. For once Bailey was smart enough not to make a single sound.

  Chapter Five

  Bailey

  “Griffith, are you still mad at me?” I asked, taking a sip of my faux martini, aka lemon-lime soda. The diner he’d taken me too didn’t serve alcohol. Then again, the waitress had made up for it by bringing me an entire bowl of olives.

  “Now why would you possibly think I’d be mad, Jem?” he said.

  Jem. God, just hearing that nickname threw me back in time. Ignoring his question, I said, “I can’t believe you remembered that name. I haven’t been called that in years.”

  “And yet even though your curls are definitely longer, the poem still applies, it seems.” I didn’t have to wonder what rhyme he referred to as the words I’d heard a thousand times in my childhood were spoken in his familiar sing-song cadence. “There once was a girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. When she was good, she was very, very good, but”—he paused, reached across the table, and tugged at one of my curls—”when she was bad, she was horrid.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny,” I said, rolling my eyes, but had to wonder if he seriously still saw me as a little girl. Plucking an olive from the dish, I ran the tip of my tongue over the slick surface before settling my teeth around the green flesh. Closing my lips around it, I sucked, pulling the pimento into my mouth, never taking my eyes off his. Seeing his eyes darken and his brow arch, I smiled.

  “Babe,” he whispered, reaching across the table again. Not to tug my hair, but to tuck a strand behind my ear, his fingertip tracing down the column of my neck. Goosebumps broke out along my skin and my nipples instantly pebbled.

  “Hmm,” I managed, wondering exactly what he’d think if he discovered that not a single man in that entire club had my tummy flipping or that my panties dampened with a single spasm of my pussy with just that single touch, that one word.

  “Maybe I need to remind you of the last stanza of that poem where little Jemima’s naughtiness got her spanked most emphatically.”

  Huffing, I pulled back, glaring at him as his grin grew. “So that’s where all that ‘naughty girl’ and threatening to spank me back in the club came from? A rhyme from childhood? Well, maybe you need glasses, Griffith Anderson. I haven’t been a little girl in years. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions. Whether that involves ordering an alcoholic drink or going to a fucking club, that’s my choice.”

  He seemed as unfazed at my outburst as I was ashamed of it, but I made damn sure I kept that shame from my face.

  “I don’t care if you’re in your dotage. Being all grown up doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you choose. Not when that club you choose puts you in danger. It also doesn’t mean you can throw a tantrum like that naughty little girl you keep insisting you aren’t. But, we both know the cure for that, don’t we?”

  I was saved from having to answer when the only man Griffith had introduced me to approached our table, giving me a smile. “I don’t mean to interrupt your little reunion, Griff, but it’ll save me a few thousand bucks if you’ll give Collins a few minutes.”

  “How’s talking to him gonna save you money?” Griffith asked, picking up his own glass and taking a sip.

  “Because if you don’t, I’m gonna kill him and I’m pretty damn sure the cost of a good defense lawyer for homicide is at least a few grand,” Henson said.

  I gasped but Griffith just grinned, shaking his head. “What if you’ve got witnesses stating it was not only justifiable, but a matter of self-preservation?”

  “I’m afraid it wouldn’t matter,” Henson said, looking down to grin at me again. “Can’t say I blame you for choosing to talk to Bailey instead. Fine, I’ll tell him you’re still occupied, but you’re gonna owe me big time.” I watched as he turned to walk back to the others.

  Suddenly, my concerns moved to the man opposite me. I would have to be blind not to realize that while we were ensconced in a booth in the back of a small diner, a great many men were milling among the tables in the center of the room. It also didn’t escape me that while some of those men were in uniform, some in suits, but some also wore clothing I’d seen worn by men in Rush. Wondering which one was Collins who was demanding Griffith’s attention, I turned back to look across the table.

  “I really screwed up your sting, didn’t I?”

  He turned to look where I’d been gazing and then turned back to me. “Don’t worry about it—”

  “I don’t want to be the cause of you losing your job.”

  “I’m fine.” He grinned and reached over to pat my hand. “Good try, but that’s not going to work either. I’m not going to forget that you are the one in trouble here. Speaking of which, you ready to go?”

  Go? Go where? I’d always wanted to go with this man, but when he stood and I saw that strip of leather around his waist, I had absolutely no intention of going anywhere with him.

  “I need to visit the ladies’ room,” I said, sliding from the booth and praying he wouldn’t question me since I’d gone not a half-hour earlier when we’d first entered the diner.

  “I’ll take you.”

  “Don’t be silly, I know where it is. Why don’t you go save Henson and talk to whoever this Collins is? I’ll be quick. You won’t even miss me.” Before he could react, I moved across the diner and down the hall to where the restrooms were. Giving a quick glance back, watching Griffith joining the others, I continued a few steps further and pushed through the back door, making sure not to displace the small rock that had been used to keep the door from closing fully. I’d seen a man in a soiled apron slip out the back earlier when I’d really gone into the ladies’ room and had seen the glow from the end of his cigarette when I’d returned to the table. It was getting late, yet my call for an Uber was instantly answered.

  “I’m just down the street dropping a fare off,” he said. “I’ll circle around and be there in a couple of minutes.”

  I didn’t relax until a blue Honda pulled up, the driver matching the description of George on my phone. I gave him my address and then settled back. We drove by the diner and I slid a bit lower in my seat. Griffith might be a bit pissed that I’d slipped out, but I was sure that he’d agree that it really was better this way.

  He wasn’t interested in me as a woman. He’d ignored me for years. The only reason he’d given me the time of day tonight was because I had evidently stumbled into some sort of undercover operation. God, I’d made a fool out of myself, practically swooning when he’d slid his fingers into my hair, the tug having my nipples going hard, and when he’d talked about how wet my panties would be, how much I loved being bared in public… I’d been unable to hold back a moan. To be honest, even his talk about spanking me… his fingers running across the buckle of his belt… all of that had my heart pounding and my blood racing through my veins. But none of that mattered. The moment he called me Jem, I’d known that though he’d once again been my hero, keeping me safe, he still considered me nothing but an annoying pest bothering the grownups. No, he wouldn’t be pissed. He’d be glad I’d finally gotten the message and gone away. What had my heart aching and my eyes welling was knowing that fake or not, I’d never forget the way Griffith’s touch, his breath on my skin, the sharp nip of his teeth—that kiss—had been even better than I’d ever imagined.

  Chapter Six

  Griffith

  Pulling up in front of the house, I turned off the ignition and sat back. I hadn’t given much thought to why Bailey had chosen Rush, but I understood it now. To pick a club further away from her home would have taken her into another city. I’d had very little traffic to deal with as it was close to three in the morning, b
ut it had taken me almost an hour to arrive. She might have insisted she had the right to do what she wanted, where she wanted, but it was quite obvious that she was taking steps to lower the chance of running into some neighbor by picking a club way across town.

  Both sides of the street were lined with mature trees providing a canopy over the road. The houses I’d passed were dark, the night’s silence broken by the sound of my car door closing. Bailey’s house was tucked back from the street; a brick-paved sidewalk bordered by flower beds led to the porch. The splash of water was soft as I walked by a fountain almost hidden by plants. The air was scented with the aroma of flowers. Taking the steps two at a time, I paused at the landing. A porch swing was to my left, a large rocking chair to my right. This wasn’t a house I’d picture a young, modern woman choosing as it was far from any restaurants, coffee shops, theaters, or bars where couples could meet up for a night out on the town. Still, life had taught me that judging anything or anybody by its appearance was a mistake. A quaint house nestled among trees and flowers in a quiet neighborhood on a country road did not mean there wasn’t some monster lurking inside, or that every woman who appeared all prim and proper didn’t like to play some sexy games.

  Opening the screen, I took a moment to look through the glass set in the top half of the door. All was dark inside and quiet. Before I could hesitate and rethink my decision to deal with the situation promptly, I rapped my knuckles against the wood. When that didn’t bring her to the door, I rapped harder and finally saw a light flicking on, and though the figure I saw rounding the corner was definitely Bailey, she wasn’t alone. One of the biggest damn dogs I’d ever seen was at her side, coming up to her waist, and neither one looked too pleased to have been roused from sleep.

  Bailey stopped a few feet from the door, her eyes wide. “Go away, Griffith,” she said, already turning away.

  “Open the door.”

  “No,” she threw over her shoulder as she continued to retrace her steps across the foyer.

  “Bailey, I’m not kidding. Open the damn door.”

  Ignoring me completely, the light extinguished as she turned the corner, leaving me standing outside. I rapped again but finally realized that she had no intention of inviting me inside. Stepping back, I was about to let the screen door slam shut when I reached out and tried the doorknob. When it turned easily in my hand, I didn’t give a single thought to the fact that I’d been denied entrance. All I did was chalk up a few extra strokes earned for not locking her door against predators. I, of course, did not consider myself in that league. Nope, I had known Bailey for over a decade, not only as a neighbor but as a friend. But now—after tonight—I considered myself as much more. Remembering how Bailey had looked up at me as she told Jordan she was mine sealed the deal as far as I was concerned. And, she was right. No matter that she’d refused to open the door like a petulant child, she was a grown woman and it was time Jem learned a lesson. Grinning, I opened the door and stepped inside, making sure to turn the latch behind me.

  I stood quietly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness before moving through the house. A few minutes later, I heard the sound of footsteps. Squatting down, I held out my hand. The huge dog turned the corner and came straight toward me.

  “Hey, boy,” I said softly, grinning as his entire back half began to wiggle from side to side, accepting the Milk-Bone I’d pulled from a box on the kitchen counter. Scratching between his ears, I shook my head. Yes, Bailey had gotten a big dog, but if she was counting on him providing security, she had another think coming. This dog was nothing but fur and stomach. I stood and patted his head.

  “Stay. Your mama and I have some business to attend to.” He gave a soft woof, and caught the second bone, sprawling on the tile to crunch his treat. Setting the box on the table, I left him to it, going to find Bailey. Ignoring the closed doors I passed, figuring that any woman who didn’t lock her front door would not lock her dog out of her bedroom, I continued until pausing at a door that was half open. Giving it a gentle push with the tips of my fingers, I gazed into the room, slipped inside, and closed it softly behind me. Moonlight allowed me to see an iron bed positioned beneath a bank of windows, a nightstand at its side and the shadow of a dresser against the wall. With a single flick of my finger, I flooded the room with light and watched the quilt surge as the bed’s occupant jerked to a sitting position.

  “Time to rise and shine,” I said.

  “How did you get in here?” Bailey demanded.

  I didn’t bother to answer as I moved toward the bed. “Emphasis on the shine,” I said, shaking my head. “Little girls who don’t bother to lock their doors earn a few extras toward the glow I’ll be providing.”

  I might have awakened her from sleep, but there was definitely fire in her eyes as she pulled the covers up to her chin. “Get out of my house before I call the cops.”

  “Babe, you forget… I am the cops.”

  “I don’t care if you’re the police commissioner, I want you to leave.”

  Dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed, I shook my head. “Is that any way to treat an old friend?”

  “Griffith, I’m serious. I-I can’t deal with this… with you right now.”

  Nodding, I said, “I can understand that, and I’ll give you some time to get that part straight in your head.”

  “You will?” she asked, her surprise at my generosity obvious. “Um, thanks. It really is nice of you to come check on me. But, as you can see, I’m fine. You can… go.” When I shook my head but didn’t make a move to get up, she shifted a bit, her eyes narrowed. “Wait. Exactly what part are you talking about getting straight?”

  Grinning, I reached out and tugged on one of her curls. “Not the part that has your butt clenching, little girl. I made you a promise, and you’ll learn I’m a man of my word. Now, be a good girl and come out of there,” I instructed, releasing her hair. “I promise to tuck you in again when we’re done.”

  “Done… with what?” she asked.

  “Your spanking, of course,” I said, not one to sugar coat reality.

  “If you think I’m going to let you spank me, you’re… delusional!”

  “I’m not delusional,” I said. “I’m a man on a mission.” That said, I was done playing. Her hold on the quilt didn’t keep me from tugging it down. Her twisting and attempting to climb off the opposite side of the bed didn’t stop me from grabbing her leg and dragging her back toward me either.

  “Let go of me!” she shouted, her feet kicking, her fingers scrambling to grip the sheets.

  “Just for the record,” I said, adjusting my grip to take hold of her waist and lift until I had her positioned over my lap. “Think about the fact that instead of being someone who cares about you, I could be some stranger breaking in for purposes other than a simple spanking.”

  “I hate you!” she screamed.

  “That may be true,” I acknowledged, trapping her legs beneath my right one and giving her butt a pat. “Regardless, you’ve no one to blame for this but yourself, little girl. You chose to put yourself in jeopardy by going to Rush—”

  “I’m a grown woman and I can go wherever the fuck I want!”

  The flat of my hand landed on her right buttock. Ignoring her squeal of shock, I gave her left cheek its own swat as I began to lecture.

  “Not when you pick a club with a bad rep.” A pair of swats had her squirming. I simply tightened my hold around her waist. “Not when you go alone.” Two more strokes were delivered. Though I was spanking over a pair of sleep shorts, it was clear by her sharp yelp that the thin fabric wasn’t providing much protection.

  “Not when you continue to curse like some sailor,” I said, adding another pair to the count.

  “Stop!”

  “No,” I said, just as succinctly as she’d spoken earlier. “You decide to guzzle alcohol like it’s water, I assure you’ll get your ass reddened every single time.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are,” she snarl
ed. “You’re not the boss of me!”

  “That may be true as well. However, have you forgotten? I’m your new daddy and grown woman or not, know this. Every time you do something that puts your life in jeopardy, Daddy will not hesitate to take you over his lap and spank your ass.”

  Reaching for the waistband of her shorts, I yanked both them and her panties down. “And little girls who break the first rule of safety and don’t even lock their doors get that spanking on their bare ass.”

  I stopped lecturing to concentrate on giving her ass the shine I’d promised. Bailey fought like a hellcat, bucking, twisting, squirming with every crack of my hand as I worked my way down the backs of her thighs.

  “All right! I get it! I’ll never go to a club again!”

  I stopped spanking, resting my hand on her ass. “Bailey, this isn’t about you going to a club. It’s not even about going to a club that caters to kink.”

  “It’s not? Then why in the hell are you spanking me?”

  Seriously? Hadn’t I just given her the reason… hell, a list of reasons? Even if I had considered stopping, that was no longer an option. Not when it was clear she’d not learned a damn thing.

  “I haven’t given you a single swat because you went to Rush even though I will if you ever do again. Not because it’s a club, but because it’s one that isn’t safe,” I said, tucking her into me again and lifting my hand and giving her a flurry of swats.

  “Ow, stop! Shit, Griff! Quit! It fucking hurts!”

  “Believe me, if you can continue to cuss, it doesn’t hurt anywhere near enough,” I said, thoughts of what could have happened flashing into my mind. Lifting my knee, I tilted her forward to make my target easier to slap my palm against. Every swat against her sit spots had her cheeks bouncing, her feet kicking, her cries increasing, and yet none had my hand slowing. I delivered swat after swat until she stopped fighting, her hands no longer scrabbling at the floor, her head no longer arching back. Instead, she went limp, submitting to the punishment.