Fuck! I called him Daddy again.
“Not yet, baby girl. I need to see more welts on your naughty bottom before this ends. It appears you’ll only behave with clear definitive incentive, and nothing inspires a good girl to behave like a few red welted stripes on her backside.”
Charlotte sobbed, her tears drenching her cheeks, making the surface under her face slick. Didn’t he understand that she needed to fight... had been trained to fight her whole life? Her mother had instilled in her a sense of independence. And although her mother’s desire was for her to marry a rich man, giving her a life of comfort and ease, it was understood—not by just Nancy but by women nationwide—that the trophy wife, especially a cultured elitist from the South, would be the matriarch. Just as her mother had been, and her mother before her.
It was how traditional families in the South worked.
Surely Logan Marshall had been raised the same way. Right? He must understand. He knew about her past, her family’s wealth and status.
The excruciating and overwhelming pain had conquered any rational thoughts at this point, and she could only sob, “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
However, it appeared that Logan had become immune to her pleas for mercy and no longer heard her wails of agony. How could he be so cruel? How could he not show her sympathy?
It was at this point that she realized the lashes had ceased and that he’d thrown the belt within her line of vision, leaving her to sob piteously over the work-worn desk.
“You ready to finish the task?”
Slowly she pushed up, turning her head to look at his face.
He must be fucking joking.
But as she took in his serious features, his lips thinned and his eyebrows raised, he tilted his chin up and said, “Well?”
She choked on her reply. “Y-yes, Sir.” She shook her head, dropping her forehead to the desk. How could he honestly think she could continue? Was he that insensitive? And in a garage, no less. Fucking dirty man in a messy garage and he... didn’t care. Not in the least.
Logan rounded the desk, and she watched his godlike form stand in front of her. Unzipping his pants once again, he shoved the pants and boxers down to his thighs, freeing his penis. It jerked in front of her nose, his male scent signaling to her clit, which throbbed with need.
Reaching forward, Logan dragged her across the desk until her chin dangled over the farthest edge. “Open your fucking mouth, and you better swallow every bit of it.”
Her lips had barely parted, and he shoved his length deep into her, bypassing her gag reflex and pressing into the depths of her throat. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her nose dripped as well.
Fuck. Does he know that I need to breathe?
He eased back, and Charlotte gasped for air around him, the cool breeze wafting over his wet rod, and he lolled his head back, groaning deep within his chest.
Was there anything sexier than a guy lost in his arousal? Charlotte didn’t think so. The five o’clock shadow on his chin and neck called to her; she wanted to nibble her way up to his neck. Better yet, she’d like his stubble between her legs, stimulating her sex.
Her pussy dripped on cue, and she shifted, her clit rubbing against the hard surface.
“Fuck.”
Her exclamation opened his eyes, and he smirked at her. “Your little clitty feeling needy, Charlie?”
“Y-yes... Sir.”
“Mmmm. Too bad.” He pouted, his bottom lip curling attractively, the dimple in his cheek deepening with the grin. “I’d love to lick you to oblivion. But do bad girls get rewarded?”
Shit!
“I don’t know.” She ground her hips again, her buttocks clenching with her thrust.
“Oh, fuck.” His throbbing cock dribbled, the thick pre-cum sliding down.
She had just begun to thrust again, giving herself relief, only to screech when his hand slapped her backside, reigniting the flame that had barely receded.
“Enough of that, girl. You’ll find no respite from your excitement until I decide. Now, finish me off.”
He pounded into her, thrusting rhythmically, giving her space to catch her breath, and with directions such as breathe through your nose, swallow, breathe, and hold still, it all culminated with him spurting rope after rope of his semen down her throat, coating her tongue with his salty essence.
Pulling out, he tucked himself into his boxers, hiking up his pants.
Charlotte was left to wipe her mouth and chin with her hand, wondering what would happen next—hoping that this protective nightmare would be over soon. She vacillated from feeling afraid to grateful.
“Get up.”
Chapter Five
Logan adjusted himself behind his pants. Fuck. He’d just ejaculated for what felt like forever into this woman, and yet here he was, becoming hard as a rock again.
This could be a problem.
“Ow, ow.” She cupped her sore bottom, her eyes closed and her lips thinned with the pain. Her bottom was welted and had deep red stripes, and if she hadn’t deserved it so much, he’d actually feel guilty.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What did Daddy do to your naughty fanny, Charlie?”
“Charlotte Anne.”
Sighing loudly, Logan shook his head. The blasted girl was more stubborn than any other girl he’d come across. Her response had his back teeth grinding. He raised an eyebrow in her direction and dipped his chin in a warning.
That’s all it took, and she backed up another step, putting more distance between them. A healthy dose of fear wouldn’t hurt at this point, and most definitely could help their situation.
Now it was time to push her compliance with the simplest of demands, such as fucking answering a simple question.
“Charlie, answer me. What did Daddy do to your naughty fanny?”
He’d stressed her nickname; she’d better get used to hearing it. He didn’t plan on using her formal name; besides Charlie fit her personality much better. And in all honesty, submitting to his name choice for her would establish his dominance, even if she wasn’t fully aware of the psychology behind it. He did it with full knowledge of how it would influence her behavior.
“Uhm... Daddy spanked my naughty fanny.”
“How?”
“W-with your b-belt... Sir.”
He nodded slowly. She dropped her gaze to the floor, her face turning pink with her blush. Her red-rimmed eyes were drooping; the poor girl was exhausted, and he needed to call it a day.
“It’s getting late, baby. Are you hungry? Let me order some food, or I have pizza in the fridge upstairs.”
“I’m not hungry.” Sullenly, she pouted.
“I’ll bring you upstairs to the guest room. C’mon.” Logan hadn’t lost his senses completely; he would take care of her needs before his. He guided her with a hand to the small of her back to walk in front of him. Opening a door in the back right corner of the garage, a dark, steep staircase came into view. The musty old-house smell greeted them, a mixture of engine grease and diesel. The smell wasn’t pleasant, to say the least.
Charlie halted before the steps, refusing to move. “I don’t want—”
“I’m not going to hurt you—not unless you deserve it and even then, as you know, it’ll be your backside that suffers. Just go upstairs so we can eat and sleep. I’m too tired to deal with your shenanigans.”
With a quick glance over her shoulder, she looked up the dimly lit steps, and with mincing steps, she slowly worked her way up the narrow entry.
Even with minimal light, the marks on her bottom were easily seen, the purple welts framing many of the broad red stripes. She’d feel these for a few days, no doubt. Although he didn’t feel guilty, she’d asked for it by spitting and pushing him, and then refusing to comply with the resultant punishment. Logan, however, did feel compassion for her, knowing that the uncertainty of her situation was more than likely adding to her already rebellious nature.
&n
bsp; He just hoped she didn’t push him any further today; her bottom couldn’t handle any more. Now tomorrow was another matter, and she’d be healed enough for another day of discipline if she continued with her testing.
Her red, recently fucked puffy lips had him reliving her sucking him off. Fucking her mouth, watching the tears rolling down her cheeks from the deep penetration of her throat had been hotter than he had anticipated.
Hell. He hadn’t foreseen fucking Charlotte Anne Winslow tonight... or ever. His only goal had been to protect the pretty little sprite.
Hearing her call him Daddy—even if it was forced—had been unexpected as well.
Fuck.
He would have a lot to answer for if anyone questioned her about the events that occurred during her sequester in the garage.
But, if he played his cards right, Logan would find himself with a baby girl... his very own baby girl. A beautiful blonde who was sassy as fuck and sweet as sweet could be, someone who would call him Daddy.
It was almost more than he could imagine... and he probably shouldn’t believe it either. The disappointment was a hard pill to swallow, and he didn’t want to lose her... especially when he’d just found her.
Charlie.
He liked that name; it fit her well. She didn’t know it yet, but she’d grow to love it.
Her hips shifted sensually up the stairs. The shimmy of her plump bottom had his cock aching with need. Fuck, he needed a release already?
There’s no time for this. I need to feed her and get her to bed.
After all, wasn’t that what a good daddy did? He cared for his baby girl—making sure she was well-rested and fed, taking away any stressors that would interfere with her eating and sleeping.
Once at the top step, she turned sideways, letting him pass. Grasping her hand gently, he shut the door behind them, coaxing her toward the kitchen. Opening the silver door on the fridge, he pulled out a foil-covered plate overflowing with the pizza. He’d bought a sheet pizza the night before, figuring he’d eat it for the rest of the week. At the time, it seemed a bit overzealous, but he was glad he’d done it now. It wasn’t the healthiest dinner, but it would fill her belly, and the carbs would help her fall asleep.
Not asking, he just placed two slices onto a clean plate, popping it into the microwave. “Here. Sit. It’ll be ready in a moment.”
“Uhm.” She looked around the small apartment.
It was cluttered more than Logan had remembered when he’d gone downstairs this morning. He tossed papers, napkins, and blankets aside. He was scooping up trash and pop cans, depositing them onto the kitchen counter or garbage. With a cloth, he washed the countertop, and he pointed toward a barstool for her to sit.
“Can I... where is the bathroom? I need to wash my hands.” She lifted them, showing him how black her palms had become in the garage.
“Oh, sure. It’s down the hall.” Holding her by the upper arm, he glanced at her soft peach-colored nipples, the same color as her lips... and just as smooth, he imagined.
I’ll make sure I can suck on those when I fuck her the next time.
Stopping in front of the guest room, he flicked the light on. “This will be your room. Nothing fancy, but it should meet your needs.”
“Not hardly. But at least I’ll be alone.” She rolled her eyes with a huff, her nose crinkling at the accommodations.
Her surly sarcasm would grate on him if it didn’t improve. Fast.
But she probably had low blood sugar and was hangry. Cut her some slack, Logan.
Clearing his throat, he nudged her forward to the bathroom, which was between their two rooms. “The soap is here. Take your time; I’ll get your food ready.”
He turned on his heel, giving her the privacy she needed. He pulled what would be his plate of pizza out of the microwave, fixing her plate, tossing it into the microwave while he filled glasses with iced water from his fridge.
The beeping announced the pizza as finished, just as Charlie simultaneously entered the kitchen again.
“Perfect timing, Charlie.”
“Charlotte—”
“Just stop.” He put his hand up, halting her and watched her abruptly stop, her eyes widening a bit. “I’m not calling you Charlotte; I like Charlie. You won’t convince me otherwise. It’s cute... and it fits you. You’ll see.” He winked at her and nodded with his head toward the barstools, placing their dinner in front of the chairs. He rounded the counter, joining her.
“Sit, baby.”
“I-I can’t.”
“Correction, little girl. You can. You don’t want to sit, and I can understand the feeling and have been there a few times in my life, but part of a good punishment is sitting on that sore hind end, letting the pain remind you of your poor choices.” Dipping his chin, he nodded toward the barstool again. “Sit.”
Staring at the seat, she pondered her choices and smartly, albeit gingerly, she slid her perky ass across the cold hardwood, leaning on her hands, keeping the majority of her weight on the palms and not her buttocks.
“Hands in your lap or on the counter, girl. I know all the tricks, trust me.”
She complied, and her small tongue licked her lips, obviously hungrier than she was stubborn.
Good to know. She has a healthy appetite.
“Eat, sweetheart. Daddies like to see their girls eat.”
She dove into the pizza with both hands, quickly gulping down a couple of bites.
Chewing quickly, she stopped, dropping the pizza onto the plate, and with a loud gulp, she swallowed, taking her napkin and wiping her lips before speaking. “Would you be able to show me on paper or your laptop some of the information about my mother and father, so I know you were telling me the truth?”
Logan set down his pizza as well. “Of course I can. The thing is, I can’t divulge what is classified at this point, but because you are family and you’re being held under my supervision, I’ll share with you enough that you know that I’m not lying and that the FBI is involved.” He stood, walking across the room and grabbing his laptop, which was sitting on the coffee table in front of his drab and dreary brown couch. Logan couldn’t be picky about his accommodations during an investigation. And when the FBI informed him he’d have a furnished apartment above the garage, although it wasn’t what he would pick for his personal life, it was perfect for staking out the mafia.
The brown plaid on the couch screamed the early nineties and had seen better days. But with Charlotte Winslow staring at his belongings, he felt self-conscious.
Logan placed the laptop in front of her on the counter, and on impulse, he reached over, tucking a stray strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her small ear. He thought once again how Charlie was absolutely adorable. A small pocket Venus.
Her cheeks immediately blushed and she dropped her eyes back to her plate. Then she coquettishly gazed at him through her long blonde eyelashes.
God, I hope I can make her mine.
He opened the laptop, waiting for the camera, which was flashing red to recognize his facial features and eyes. Recognition obtained, the screen welcomed him, and his main screen came into view.
Logan punched in the codes required to open his secret files and turned the laptop a bit sideways, shielding the screen from her view. He couldn’t take any chances with his security clearance.
Once the file on Nancy Winslow opened, he turned the computer so Charlotte could begin reading and viewing the banking statements, which showed her mother’s accounts and her savings, in particular, which was down to just a few hundred dollars.
Logan pointed with his index finger. “As you can see, the balance here is zero.”
Charlie’s eyes filled with tears, her eyebrows furrowed. She nibbled on her lip, and leaning forward, she scrolled through the file.
Logan paused her hand and said, “See this here? This is where she received the money from the mafia.”
“Wait, how can that be?” The deep crease between her eyebrows showed her
confusion. “That was only a year ago, and her account says there’s nothing now.”
Clearing his throat, Logan stroked her face gently. “My dear, how do you think your brownstone in Alexandria is being paid for? Along with some of the upper echelon dates she’s been setting up for you?”
Blinking rapidly, Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, shutting it quickly before she finally found her words once again. “You mean she’s paying for these men to go on dates with me?” She swiped at the tear rolling down her face.
Rubbing her back, Logan murmured, “I’m sorry, girl. I know this is disappointing. You’re attractive enough and intelligent enough to get any of those men on your own. It isn’t necessary for her to pay for your dates, but that’s what she’s been doing. For a while.”
“But my father has money. Right?” Her blue eyes searched his, looking for hope... any glimmer of hope that her whole life wasn’t a façade.
“Charlie, your father married your mother for her money. He always knew that he’d make his fortune with her family’s connections and his intelligence, which he did. Very successfully, I may add. As you know, your father’s businesses and inventions for phone apps have made him a very wealthy man. But your father and mother married out of convenience... and status. He needed a trophy wife and her connections. She needed to marry somebody with money... or the promise of personal wealth. Which she had with Thomas Winslow. It’s been many, many years since their finances have been combined. Your father lives off of his own money, and he assumes that she is living off of hers. He has no idea she is embroiled with the mafia. No idea whatsoever.”
“Well, I should tell him.” She nodded with conviction, and a hint of promise played across her face. “My father wouldn’t want her to live like this, Logan.”
“Sweetheart, I hate that I’m the one breaking this to you. But your father lives a separate life. He has a woman, and children with her. Your parents are only together until you get married, which explains why your mother is working so hard at marrying you off. She needs you to marry into money to pay off the mafia, but she also needs to get out of her own marriage, and none of this is going to happen without your cooperation. However, she has now learned, because she is also being held by the FBI, that her life, as well as yours, is in danger. Your father cannot be notified by you or anyone else. It will interfere with our investigation, and we can’t take any chances. It’s why we’re not allowing you to communicate with her, either. It’s not worth the risk. When this is all over, we’ll reunite you two.”
Harsh Daddy Page 4