by Measha Stone
Jade sighed. “Really? That’s not at all what you told me two weeks ago when it was me and Garrick we were talking about.”
“You and Garrick are different. You have like the real deal. Inside the bedroom, outside the bedroom, you guys are meant to be together. This isn’t the same thing at all.”
Jade chuckled. “He’s going to have a time of it with you.”
“What does that mean?” Carissa asked, clenching the phone. She walked into the kitchen to get the coffee pot going.
“It means you have all the answers for everyone else, but completely disregard the same advice for yourself. Whatever you’re afraid of, get over it. Jamison’s a good guy. Garrick wouldn’t have let him anywhere near you at the Mistletoe party if he wasn’t.”
Deciding she wasn’t going to be getting any support from Jade, she changed the subject. “How is Garrick? I see the two of you have patched things up pretty well?”
Jade made another dismissive sound. “Yes, everything’s fine now. We’re working on it, anyway, so it’s going to be fine. But we weren’t talking about us—we were talking about you. The biggest mistake you can make right now is to tuck tail and run, Carissa,” Jade said in a soft voice.
Carissa considered her friend’s words for a moment. This wouldn’t be the first time she cut her losses and ran, but it would definitely be the first time she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she wanted to do it.
“Do you call him Daddy?” Jade whispered the question.
“Is Garrick there?” Carissa demanded, turning on the water to fill the coffee pot.
“No! He’s at work. It’s just me. So, do you?”
“You know, this conversation has gotten off course. You were supposed to be supportive and tell me to forget the whole thing. Month or no month.” She leaned back against the counter and watched the coffee begin to drip into the pot. Wasn’t anyone on her side? Didn’t they understand how horribly this whole situation could turn out?
“What month? What does that mean?” Jade asked with a little more excitement than Carissa could deal with at the moment. Way to keep the conversation low key and smooth.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“Carissa McAllister, you are a liar. Tell me now.”
Carissa laughed. “Sometimes I think we’re still in high school.” Not that Carissa would want to relive that era of her life over again. Ever. Best time of her life—fuck no. “Fine. We’re only going to date for a month. Then it’s over.”
Jade gasped. “What? Just over?”
“Well, technically we’re supposed to talk about it and see if we want to continue or stop. But we all know it’s going to be over.” Carissa toyed with the end of her hair, wrapping it tightly around her finger.
“You’re a complete idiot if you think Jamison is going to walk away after a month. He’s a great guy, Carissa. If he’s doing this, offering everything to you like this, it’s because he’s into it. He’s not a bedroom only Dom if he’s interested in a girl.”
“But he has jumped from girl to girl, right?”
“No more than any other guy looking for the right one. He’s going to take care of you, and you’re going to have to start letting him in. Whatever you learned from your mother’s bad love life, you’ll have to forget it.”
Leave it to Jade to bring her mother up. While most mothers were teaching their daughters to be chaste and look for the gentlemen, Carissa’s mother had taught her how to peg a guy for a keeper or a loser. Though she never seemed to get it right—she always seemed to keep the losers.
“He’s going to be here soon, I better go. I still need to get in a run before I shower.”
“It’s already two in the afternoon!”
“I know. I wanted to sleep in, but I knew he was coming over.” Carissa laughed.
“Just give him the benefit of the doubt. You know, like you told me to do with Garrick. Jamison’s not going to let you down. But you have to give him the chance to prove that first.”
“Okay. I’ll think about it.” The coffee finished brewing and the arousing scent of the brew filled the kitchen. “I better go. Talk to you later.”
They ended their call and Carissa fixed herself a cup of coffee and brought it to the bedroom with her. She’d gulp down the caffeine while squeezing into her running gear. The energy from the coffee would help her get at least a good mile in before he arrived.
Chapter 8
“Who’re you?” an elderly man with bushy, dark gray eyebrows called over the railing to Jamison as he reached Carissa’s door. She’d mentioned the man living above her was extremely nosy.
“Hello. You must be Mr. Buschmann. I’m Jamison Croft.” He craned his neck to look up at the man and gave him a welcoming smile. Nosy or not, he was her neighbor.
“You here to see Carissa?” The man gripped the railing and leaned a little further over.
“Yes.”
“She’s not there. She went for a run about half an hour ago and isn’t back yet.”
Well, at least Jamison didn’t have to worry that no one was looking out for her when he wasn’t around.
“Do you know how long she runs for?” The man probably had a plethora of information for Jamison.
“Long enough.” The man sniffled, looking annoyed.
“I’m here. I’m here,” Carissa called, running up the steps. “Hello, Mr. Buschmann.” She waved at him, but Jamison could see the effort she put into being pleasant with the man.
“Hmmph.” The man sniffled again and turned away from the railing. His door closed a moment later.
“Old bugger.” Carissa shook her head. “Hi!” She gave Jamison a brilliant smile.
“Hi?” He looked her over. Her red hair was pulled up into a messy bun, exposing her bright red ears. Her nose and cheeks were equally crimson. The running pants and jacket couldn’t have given her much protection against the winter air. “It’s not even twenty degrees outside. What were you doing?”
Her smile dropped, but she didn’t respond. She pulled out her key from inside her jacket and opened the door to her apartment.
“I went for a run, like I do every day,” she said when they were inside and the door was closed.
“You aren’t even wearing earmuffs, or gloves!” He couldn’t believe the intelligent woman before him wasn’t even wearing gloves.
Her lips screwed up into a wry pout and her fingers flexed at her sides. “Are you mad at me already? You just got here.”
He sighed. “I’m not mad, Carissa. I just don’t understand why you won’t take care of yourself. I bet if I open your fridge I won’t find much in there, and if I ask, you’ll tell me you didn’t have time for lunch today either, and now here you are, half frozen in front of me.”
She began to wring her hands and a drop of sweat made its way down her temple. The flush on her cheeks deepened under his stare.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
His heart swelled. She didn’t argue with him or try to defend her stance, she simply accepted his disappointment. And she’d called him daddy with no provocation from him.
“I wish you would have told me you like to go for a run. We could have found somewhere warmer for you to do it. There are a lot of gyms around here—”
“I like running outside.” A small pout made its way to her lips, and he found the sight too adorable to chastise.
“I get that, but it’s too cold outside. When it’s this cold, I want you running inside where it’s warm and well lit. I’ll get you a membership at any club you want tomorrow, but until then, no more running outside.”
She pinched her lips together, probably trying to think it through. It was no small thing he was asking of her. But submitting to her daddy wouldn’t always be easy.
“Fine.” She turned on her heel away from him, but he grabbed her arm and spun her back around.
“No. Fine isn’t an answer. I hate that word, actually. No more saying fine, understand me, Carissa-girl?”
She l
ooked ready to rip her arm from his grasp and stomp her way out of the room.
“I get it,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
She huffed. “I understand, Daddy.”
“Better. Now.” He dropped her arm. “About this run. You knew I was coming over, why didn’t you have your run earlier this morning?”
“I slept in.” She gave a carefree shrug. “I only planned to take a short run,” she answered. “It felt good so I kept going. I’ll be out of the shower in two minutes, and I’ll just throw my hair into a ponytail. Unless we’re going out, then it might take a little longer.”
“I thought we’d stay in.” He held up the small shopping bag so she could see it. “I have a present for you, but not until you’re all clean.”
She eyed the bag with a small smile playing on her lips. She wanted to grab it, he could tell, but she managed to control herself. Even went so far as to put a bored look on her face. But he wasn’t buying it, she wanted to know what was in his bag.
“All clean, and I’ll be right there to be sure you didn’t miss any soap suds in your hair, Carissa-girl.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She hopped around and ran off down the hall to the bathroom. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of the door slamming and the water starting up right away. His little girl had no patience, which was fine for him at that moment—he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her, either.
After following the aroma of burnt coffee to the kitchen, he turned off the machine that had begun to burn the remnants of coffee in the pot and headed to the bathroom.
She was humming a tune he didn’t recognize when he entered. Carissa wasn’t much for fancy decorations, which was just one more thing he adored about her. Simplicity ran through her entire apartment. A small basket sat on top of the toilet tank with some washroom essentials, there were two bathroom rugs, and a soft lavender shower curtain to match. A hair dryer hung off the side of the sink, and a flat iron lay on the sink—unplugged, he was relieved to see.
“You all washed up?” he asked, closing the door to keep the warmth in.
“Yep.” She pulled the shower curtain to the side and peeked out, her hair slick against her head and her wide eyes meeting his. The girl looked downright angelic.
“Let me see.” He put the bag down on the counter and grabbed the curtain from her, pulling it open even further. “Yep, all wet.” He smiled at her. “Are you wet everywhere?” he asked, shooting a pointed look at her sex.
She nibbled on her lip and nodded.
“Hair is all washed, good. Turn off the water for me,” he directed and waited until she complied before giving her further instructions. “Now put one foot up on the edge of the tub.”
Giving him a confused look, she went about obeying him, placing her hands on his arm to keep her balance. Her skin was wrinkly already from the short time she’d been in the shower, but the rest of her looked like silk.
“Now, let’s see if you washed everywhere.” He reached lower and slid his fingers through her folds, delighting in the little gasp she gave. “Good girl, you’re all wet.” He continued to stroke her, taking care to only brush across her clit and not put any real pressure on the swollen nub. She arched her hips, trying to get the little bit of release, but he wasn’t ready to give it to her yet. They had a whole afternoon of fun to get through before she dove into that oblivion.
“No, don’t stop.” She grabbed at his arm when he pulled away. One look from him, though, and she bowed her head with something that looked like contrition, though he doubted she felt it truly.
“You’ll come when I say, and not a second before.” He eased her foot off the edge of the tub and reached for a towel. “Let’s get you dried off so you can try on your present.”
“You got me clothes?” The way she scrunched up her nose when she asked the question made him laugh. Such honesty with her reactions.
“One piece in particular. Come on.” He wrapped the towel around her and tucked in the end. He took a smaller towel and squeezed out her hair but left it mostly wet.
He led her to her bedroom, snagging the bag on the way.
“Did you enjoy your run?” he asked as he pointed to the bed for her to sit.
“Yes.” She watched the bag as he dangled it from his fingers.
“If I look in your panty drawer will I find panties or will I find thongs?” He placed the bag down on the dresser and traced the knob of the drawer with his finger.
“Mostly thongs,” she answered.
“I would prefer it if you don’t wear thongs. I like my girl to wear something a little more modest.”
“You don’t like thongs? Every man loves thongs.”
He laughed. “I do, and sometimes I’ll want you to put on a pair, but unless I do, you aren’t to wear them.”
Her brow furrowed.
“What did you have in mind?” She eyed the bag.
He handed it to her, letting her explore the contents on her own. He’d had to order them, otherwise she would have been wearing them from the first moment she agreed to be his and only his.
Leaning against the dresser, he watched her take out the garments wrapped in tissue paper and unwrap them in her lap. Panties; white cotton panties.
She unfolded the first one in the pile and looked at the words written on the backside, that would be displayed across her beautiful ass.
“Good girl.” She looked up at him. He lifted his chin, indicating he wanted her to look at the second bundle in the bag.
Putting that aside, she unwrapped the next few pairs and held one up. A soft pink blush crept up her neck and covered her face. “Bad girl?”
“Let’s hope you won’t be wearing these very often.” He moved to sit beside her on the bed and took the few pairs from her lap. “You’ll only wear these when I tell you to, and understand that if you’re wearing one of these, a spanking is coming in short order.” Folding the pair he’d taken from her hand, he placed it neatly on the pile.
“And these?” She gestured to the good girl pile.
“These you’ll wear whenever you want—or when I ask specifically.”
“You’re taking away my thongs?” Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed together. If she was trying to look tough she was failing miserably, the girl couldn’t look anything but adorable when she fought against the pout trying to escape.
“No, I’m not taking them away.” He brushed a wet strand of hair from her forehead. “But I like the idea of you wearing your good girl panties for me.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed back a response. Nothing too snarky, he was sure of that, because her eyes had already begun to dilate. She wanted to wear the panties, too. His mind worked, turning over images of what she would look like standing in the corner, her arms folded behind her and the round, perfect globes of her ass covered in white cotton displaying the words bad girl. Fuck. How would he actually discipline her in that situation if just the mental image made his cock harder than steel?
“Okay, Daddy.”
His eyes nearly crossed at the softly spoken words.
“Such a good girl for me today.” He smiled and grabbed both piles of panties and took them to the dresser. “Let’s see how good you can be for Daddy. Take off your towel.”
She stood up from the bed, clutching the top of the lavender towel. Her wide, beautiful eyes latched on to his as she slowly, tormentingly so, untucked the towel and peeled it away from her body. As it fell away, he took in the deliciousness that stood before him. Perfectly balanced curves, heavy breasts, taut stomach, and thick, rich thighs.
“Now lie on the bed and spread your legs for me. I want to see your pussy on display for me.” He didn’t move, and he wouldn’t. Not until he was ready to devour her. Any sooner than that and he’d lose his resolve to go slow, to enjoy every second of her submission and obedience.
Those acts alone stroked him as hard and with as much passion as her hands could, and if he d
idn’t take the time to enjoy it, to soak in the energy she gave him, the afternoon would turn into a mindless fuck.
And he didn’t want a mindless fuck. Not with her. Not with his Carissa-girl.
Carissa moved onto the bed, keeping her eyes away from his while she got into position. His stare was too intense, too powerful for her to hold for very long. He’d bought her panties. Not just underwear he could have picked up at any store off the street, but special panties.
“Spread your legs,” he repeated the command when she still hadn’t done so. She dropped her hands to her sides and peeled her knees apart, letting them fall to the mattress.
Exposed. She was completely exposed to him. Chancing a glance, she found his eyes no longer locked on her face, but they had moved to her sex. And he looked hungry, like a man who hadn’t been fed in years.
“Do you touch yourself, Carissa? When I’m not here to do it for you, to give you that release?” The question came low in his gravelly voice, but she didn’t sense any irritation or disappointment.
“Be honest, always be honest with me, Carissa-girl.” He spoke as though he could read her worries, her very thoughts.
“Yes, Daddy,” she answered, looking down the length of her body to where he stood at the foot of the bed, between her legs but not touching, not even close to touching her. And she wanted his touch, his fire, his heat.
“Show me.” The command came darker, like his throat was too dry to talk, and his eyes never left her sex.
Her stomach fluttered at the idea. She’d never done that before, never allowed a man to see her touching herself.
She reached a hand between her thighs, lightly touching her lower lips, avoiding any contact with her clit, knowing if she touched herself there, she’d be too greedy with need to be able to follow his words.
He moved from his spot to the side of the bed, sitting down beside her but still watching her fingers work over her sex.
“That’s not how you fuck yourself, little girl. Now show Daddy the real way.” He reached out and trailed a thick finger across her collarbone, through the valley of her breasts and further down still, over her belly. When he reached her thigh, he dragged his finger to her knee and rested his palm there, keeping her legs open while he watched her fingers dance over her pussy.