by Measha Stone
“It’s nothing. It’s not right to close it down. I’m fine.”
The air from his heavy sigh moved her hair. “What did I say about that word?”
Oh. Yeah. That.
“You didn’t like the word.”
“I told you not to use it anymore. And I told you no cursing, but you’ve done both. And you raised your voice to your friends and to me. Do you think this is how a good girl behaves?”
Her stomach twisted. Couldn’t they just go back to having dinner. Now that they were away from the table she’d calmed. She’d talk to him. He’d see the right of it; she could trust him. Jamison would do the right thing. He wasn’t his father. Money didn’t mean everything to him.
“I didn’t mean to raise my voice.” It was really the only concession she could give.
“You’re keeping something from me, and I don’t like it. Especially since it’s making you be so rude and disobedient.”
“I said I was fine—uh—okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry I raised my voice. I’ll apologize.” She tried to walk around him, to get away from the punishing stare of his eyes, but he caught her around her middle too easily. Hauling her toward the fridge, he picked her up and put her on the countertop.
“You were naughty, and you’re still being evasive.”
“And you are ruining a nice evening with being all—all—ugh!” She went back to crossing her arms over her chest. She’d already fallen into her softer side, and it was hard to pull herself out to argue with him when he continued to hover over her with such darkened eyes.
“I’m going to ask you once more, what is going on?”
She clenched her eyes closed and shook her head. “We can talk later.”
He sighed again, a disappointed sound that tugged at her heart. She just didn’t want to talk about his father, not yet, and not that evening.
Bottles rattled when he opened the fridge, and she opened her eyes to see what he was up to. He stood in front of her with hot sauce in his hands
“What are you doing?” She tried to keep her eyes off the bottle of heat, but she kept glancing at it. “Are we done? Can we go back to dinner?”
“No. Your naughtiness hasn’t been addressed yet, and you’re still in the middle of your little fit.”
Maybe he’d never seen a fit before, but it didn’t usually happen without screaming and crying.
“You can’t spank me here. They’ll hear!” She gave a pointed glance toward the dining room door.
“I have no intention of spanking you—right now, at least.” He held up the bottle again. “Besides, why make your ass pay for the sins of your mouth?”
“W-what?”
“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue, Carissa-girl.” He unscrewed the cap of the hot sauce.
“Why?” Stupid question. She knew what he was going to do, and she wanted nothing to do with it.
“Because I said to, do it now.”
“Promise me you won’t do the project.” It might not be the right time to bargain, but nothing gained if not asked.
“We’ll talk about that later, as well as a few other things. Right now, we are addressing your foul language and your yelling. Now do what Daddy said and give me your tongue.”
She looked at the bottle again then at him. No cracks to be seen in his resolve. He meant it. He was going to do it. Of course, she could cry her safeword. He’d screw on the cap and take her home. But it would damage them, and weren’t they already damaged enough just by being them?
Prying her lips open, she slipped the very tip of her tongue out toward him.
“Open wide and tongue all the way out.”
“You know, if I suck your cock after this, it’s gonna hurt you, too.” Last-ditch efforts were rarely done with good taste or any grace.
“Didn’t I already explain that you can’t lead me around by my dick?” he retorted. “Now your mouth has gotten you extra time.” He wiggled the bottle in the air. “Tongue. Now.”
Carissa managed to fight off the eye roll and open her mouth, sticking her tongue completely out in as clinical a manner she could muster.
Her eyes nearly crossed as she watched the bottle tip and small droplets of red-hot sauce sprinkle onto her tongue. The burn came slowly, but as the liquid heat rolled over her tongue it spread, became more intense.
She hated spicy food, and this was hotter than any taco she’d ever eaten.
“Now, you hold that like that until I say otherwise. Do not swallow. Do not spit it out. And put your eyes on me.”
She whimpered but managed to look up at him. The hard edge of his eyes had softened. Her obedience, although slow in coming, had taken away a bit of his ire.
“When I ask you a question, you are always to be honest and direct. We’ve already had that conversation, but maybe after this you might remember better. And you don’t raise your voice, and you don’t curse. Do you understand me, Carissa-girl?”
She wasn’t enjoying his pet name anymore. At first, she’d found it endearing, but he only seemed to use it when she found herself in trouble. It had the effect of making her feel small and chastised without him even bending her over his knee.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, but with her tongue sticking out as it was, it came out all mumbled and weird.
“Good. Almost done now. When I allow you to swallow, you’ll stay right here, and when you’re ready to tell me what’s going on with your attitude, I’ll give you a glass of milk.”
She whimpered again. Her taste buds would be ruined! The intensity died down, but the heat continued to linger and when she moved, even slightly, the sauce would creep along her tongue, a drop already sliding down her throat, leaving a trail of fire in its path.
“Are you going to be a good girl now?” he asked while screwing the top back on the hot sauce bottle.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said again, feeling even more foolish because of how garbled it sounded when she spoke.
“Okay, you can swallow.” He placed the bottle on the counter next to her.
She pulled her tongue back in and swallowed the horrible liquid. “Augh!” she groaned. “My throat burns now, too,” she complained, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.
“Now, tell me what’s going on.”
She threw her head back and sighed. “That shelter was there for me and my mom when we needed it.”
“When your mother left your father?”
“How do you know about that?” She hadn’t told him, hadn’t gone into that part of her history.
“Garrick filled me in on a few things.”
“Of course, he did. He’s as meddlesome as Jade.” She glared at the door leading to the dining room.
“We’re talking about you right now, not him.” He tugged on her earlobe to get her attention again. “Tell me.”
She closed her eyes and sucked in a long, sharp breath. “It’s not horrible. He wasn’t some crazed drunk or anything like that. He was irresponsible and selfish. When my mom told him she was leaving him, that he had to get out, he drained the bank accounts thinking she’d have to stay. But she took me anyway. We left. We went to the shelter. They helped her get a better paying job, helped her find housing that she could afford that was in a decent neighborhood with decent schools.”
She didn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to see the pity that would be there. “My father came around a few times, trying to get back with her. But really, he just needed a place to stay until he got another job or found a new woman to latch onto. Once he took me. He woke me up and pretended we were going to school, but he didn’t take me to school. He took me to some rundown apartment on the south side. He wouldn’t let me call my mom. He took me to a government agency. He wanted to get housing assistance, food stamps, and all that stuff. With me, he could get more than what they were going to give him for just himself. But I messed it up. When they asked about my mom, I told them the truth. He dumped me on the corner of our street and took off. The shelte
r had a legal department that helped Mom finalize the divorce and get the court to grant her sole custody—not that he fought it. He just signed me away. But if it wasn’t for that shelter, Mom wouldn’t have been able to do that. She wouldn’t have gotten a decent job.”
His jaw clenched as she spoke, and, by the time she’d finished telling him, a pulsating tick in his right cheek had taken over. But she wasn’t done telling him everything. If he wanted it all, he was going to get every bit of it.
“Your father, he bought a building when I was in high school. A high rise near Boystown. A friend of mine lived there; a few of the apartments were low income housing. Your father managed to get that overturned and bought the building, raised the rents, and evicted my friend. She and her mother moved back into the shelter until they were able to find them another place to go.”
“That sounds like my father.” Bitterness laced his tone. “That’s why you said he isn’t a good man. Why you think he may have had more to do with my mother walking out?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t tell him about her upcoming phone call. If it turned out to be a dead end, she didn’t want him to hurt. More than anything she didn’t want him to.
He stepped up to her, his body brushing her knees. Instinctively, she opened her legs and brought him closer. His hands captured her face, and he brought his lips down on hers. A soft kiss. Short and sweet.
“I’m sorry for what you went through. And I’m sorry for what my father did. He’s never had much of a heart, unfortunately. Why didn’t you tell me any of these things?” He pressed his forehead against hers.
“I wasn’t ready, I guess.” Would she ever have been? She’d never told any of her boyfriends about her time living in the shelters. Only Jade really knew her whole past—and, apparently, Garrick.
“You don’t have to come to dinner on Sunday, if you’d rather not. I understand.”
She pulled away from his grip and studied his face. Expecting to find pity and surprised to find none. She wouldn’t tolerate pity, not from him not from anyone.
“Of course, I’ll go. I’ll even behave.” She smiled.
He laughed. “Oh, baby, I’m not sure that’s even possible.” He wiped his thumb across her bottom lip. “Would you like some milk now?”
She’d all but forgotten the burn in her mouth. “Can I have a glass of wine instead?”
“Nope. I have some rewarding and teaching to do with you when we get home, so no more wine.”
“Okay, milk, then.”
“You guys coming back or what?” Jade called from the dining room.
Carissa laughed, and Jamison helped her off the counter. She left him pulling a gallon of milk out of the fridge and walked toward the dining room.
“Keep your pants on, Jade,” She called. “At least until we leave.” Which, hopefully, would be soon. The idea of lessons and rewards held much more appeal than whatever Jade was serving for dessert.
Chapter 11
“Your place?” Carissa asked when Jamison continued to drive down Lake Shore Drive.
“Yes, if that’s okay? I didn’t think you’d want Mr. Buschmann to possibly overhear your spankings.”
“Spankings?”
He nodded but didn’t look at her. He was still processing everything in his mind. She’d been a child and had to deal with so many grown up things. The shelter was obviously very important to her, and now that he knew about it, he wouldn’t allow it to be bought out or torn down.
What she told him about his father hadn’t been uncharacteristic but seeing someone who had been directly affected by his father’s lechery, his greed, someone innocent like Carissa’s friend made his gut twist into a knot.
“Well, that might be overstating, and I don’t like giving you all the information up front, but I’m pretty confident there will be at least one spanking. You weren’t a very good girl at Garrick’s during dinner, where you?”
“No, Daddy. But we talked in the kitchen.”
He nodded. “Yes, we did, and you needed a good dose of hot sauce to cool that mouth of yours, but you still have a consequence coming for being so naughty. I expect you to take your punishment like a good girl, so we can move on to more fun things afterward.”
She shifted in her seat and looked out the window. His little girl gave him so many signs of her arousal and pleasure, he wondered how no man before him had picked up on them.
“You aren’t working tomorrow, right?”
“No, I’m off ’til Monday and then my new shifts start. Monday through Friday, morning shifts seven thirty to three-thirty. It’s going to be awesome. And I get to work with all those babies.”
Her excitement bubbled up through her voice; he couldn’t help but smile.
“You like babies?”
She cleared her throat and fidgeted in her seat again. “Yeah.”
“So, you want kids, then?” He’d never really pictured them in his future. After having such a cold upbringing by his father, he didn’t want to continue that cycle, but talking about the subject with Carissa didn’t give him an intense chill in his spine.
“I don’t know. I never really thought too much about it, I guess.”
Except her hands were rolling and unrolling the hem of her shirt.
“I’ve never really thought much about it either,” he said, pulling into the parking garage of his building. “We don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not.” He had fun plans for them when they got inside, and he wanted her relaxed, not all twisted up with anxiety.
The overhead lights of the garage played across the cabin of his car, throwing her into a shadow before illuminating her beauty. She smiled with genuine relief.
“Yes, please. Let’s talk about something else.”
Pulling into his parking spot, he threw the car in park and turned to face her. The leather seat squeaked with his movement. “I need you to know that you can tell me anything. Nothing you say is going to make me think less of you or see you in some dark shroud.”
A few strands of hair fell in front of her face, and he brushed them away. The soft warmth of her skin beneath his fingers was enough to ignite his desire for her. Hell, just her being in the same city as him sent his cock into steel-rod mode.
She didn’t speak, only looked at him with wide eyes. Whatever her past was, it wasn’t easy. No, this girl staring back at him with a mixture of confusion and surprise had never been held simply for the sake of being held. She’d never known a man she could lean on and not fall flat on her face. But he’d fix that.
“I do. I do know that,” she said turning her gaze down to her lap. “I’m just not used to it yet.”
“I know, but you will be. Now let’s get inside.”
He helped her from the car and held her hand through the parking garage to the elevator. As the they rode up to his floor, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on her head, enjoying the sweet smell of her shampoo.
Carissa kept quiet the entire ride up to his condo, and even after they had stepped inside, she did little but look around in amazement.
“Let me have your coat and purse. I’ll put them away.” He brushed her hands away and went about unbuttoning her winter coat and pulling it free of her arms.
“Does your condo take up the whole floor?” she asked finally.
“Yes. It’s actually the top two floors of the building.” He closed the closet door and picked up her hand again, lacing their fingers together. “I have an office down there.” He pointed down a small corridor as he walked them to the stairs. “The kitchen is here, the dining is off the other side, and this is the living room.” He explained the open layout.
“Two floors?” She looked up the length of the staircase. Cherrywood stairs led up to the second-floor bedrooms.
“Yep.”
“Is this one of your father’s buildings?” she asked as he led her up the stairs. He felt her hand stiffen in his when she asked the question, and it became clear they would need t
o settle the issue of his father before he could get her to relax enough for what he planned.
He didn’t answer the question, letting the sound of her shoes clicking on each stair be the only noise. Leading her into his bedroom, he released her hand and went over to his dresser.
Home decorating wasn’t his thing. He couldn’t care less if the dresser matched the bed, or the vanity. Or if he even had a damn vanity. His decorator had bought one and said it came with the set and a complete necessity and, since he was too busy and too bored, he just let it go.
“Holy shit,” she exclaimed and ran past him to the windows. The bedroom overlooked the lake which at night wasn’t that impressive, but Navy Pier could also be seen especially during the winter months when they were having their Winter Festival.
“Language!” he chastised and marched over to her. He slapped her ass twice.
She jumped and rubbed her cheeks.
“Sorry,” she muttered and pulled the sheer curtains open. “But your view is awesome.”
The look of pure amazement covered her features, and he couldn’t help but smile. The woman wasn’t just beautiful, or pretty—everything about her was beyond words. There was no description for her. Perfection simply couldn’t be described.
“Come here.” He grabbed her hand and led her over to the bed. “Sit down here on the edge.”
Once she was sitting, she folded her hands in her lap and looked up at him with waiting eyes. “What is it? You look so serious.”
“I want the air cleared between us. I wasn’t going to push, but it has to be dealt with. I want you to tell me everything. Tell me what made you so quiet on the way to Garrick’s?” He pulled an armchair from the corner over to the bed, sat in front of her, and placed his hands on her knees.
“I thought we came home for fun. If you want to ruin the mood for that—”
“It’s my job to take care of you, and us, and the longer this festers inside you, the darker you feel, and the bigger this gap I sense between us will get. And I’m not going to let that happen. Now, if you’d like some incentive to get your mouth moving, I have my own bottle of hot sauce in the kitchen, or maybe I should pull a finger of ginger out of my fridge?”