by Blake, Zoe
She was only this moment.
There was no past.
Only him.
Her daddy.
His fingers dug into her hips as he pounded into her flesh.
“Cum for Daddy,” he ground out.
She obeyed, never having felt such a soul-stealing, crushing, overpowering orgasm in her life. He had stripped her bare, physically and mentally. And the raw beauty, the raw honesty of it all, allowed her to completely and fully let go. Through the roaring in her ears, she could hear his primal shout before feeling the hot liquid of his cum on her back. Her knees gave out. She collapsed on the bed. The heavy weight of his body soon followed. The room was silent except for the intermingled sound of their own rapid breaths.
Logan stretched down and grabbed a t-shirt that was lying on the floor. He gently wiped it over her back, bottom and thighs. Balling the fabric up and tossing it back on the floor, he turned on his side, resting his head on his elbow to stare at her.
“Well? What did you think of your punishment?”
Chloe gave him a shy smile.
“I think I may be tempted to misbehave again.”
This man broke her into tiny pieces only to piece her back together each time he made love to her. It was a scary thing to contemplate. Someone having the power to affect you so deeply they shatter your soul. Good thing that someone was her daddy.
“You may want to rethink that.” His voice held a hint of amusement.
Catching onto his playful tone, Chloe reached up to run her smooth palm over his rough stubble. “And why is that?”
Logan reached down and gave the anal bead string a sharp tug.
“Because your punishment isn’t over, I still have to remove the beads.”
Chloe buried her head against his chest. His strong arms wrapped around her, cuddling her close.
His warm hand ran down her back…once more grasping the string…he pulled. Hard.
* * *
Hours later, she was tucked on his lap being spoon fed the chicken noodle soup he had just made for her from scratch. After their mind-blowing sex, he had gently bathed her and placed her in her fuzzy pink onesie. He’d given her a hot cup of tea with extra honey, and she’d sat curled on the sofa, watching him cook the soup in her small kitchen. Then placing her his lap, he’d insisted on being the one to feed her.
In the middle of him admonishing her about her horrible eating habits and stating that from this point forward he would see that she ate healthy and took better care of herself, she said, “I really do love you, well I mean…I just wanted to say that I didn’t just say it earlier for the…just for…you know!”
She waited. Biting her lip anxiously, she wondered how the most powerful and dangerous man she had ever met would feel about a woman-child dressed in fuzzy pink PJs declaring her love.
He caught a single curl between his finger and thumb and gave it an affectionate tug. “I love you too, babygirl.”
Chloe let out the breath she had been holding. Twisting her hands in her lap, she hesitantly asked him a question that had been bothering her, “When we checked into the hotel, how come I saw a ‘J on your credit card?”
Logan smiled. “I knew I couldn’t get anything past you. The ‘J’ stands for Joseph, my first name. I go by my middle name, Logan.”
“Oh!”
Chloe was relieved. She knew in time she would ask him more questions about his past, about what he did for living but not now. Now. In this moment, the past didn’t exist. Only the future, their future, mattered.
Although there was just one more thing she needed to know before they could truly move forward.
After swallowing another savory bite of the warm soup, she said, “May I ask another question?”
“Babygirl, I want no more secrets between us. You may ask me anything you want.” His voice was filled with warm, honest affection.
Bolstered by his encouraging tone, she asked, “What is your last name?”
Logan threw his head back with laughter as he hugged her close.
“It’s not funny! Do you realize I have no idea who you really are, what your name is?” she complained as she lightly slapped his hard chest.
“You know my name and who I am,” he said as he cupped her jaw staring at her intently with those brilliant blue eyes that always drew her in.
At her questioning look he said, “I’m your daddy.”
Epilogue
Logan
Logan rolled down the worn cobblestone street. Throwing the kickstand on his Harley Roadster, he took off his helmet and tossed it on the seat. Reaching into his saddlebags, he pulled out a crumpled brown paper bag. Surveying the quiet side street, he took in the cafe to the left of him and the travel bookstore to the right. Ignoring both businesses, he headed straight for the small shop in the center.
His target.
A high-pitched tinkling chime announced his presence as he walked through the door. The interior was in shadows, emphasizing the pin-point lighting on the various expensive objects displayed in glass cases.
The already hushed atmosphere grew silent at his intimidating approach.
The staff exchanged worried looks.
Disregarding them, he headed straight for the backroom. No one tried to stop him.
Moments before entering he could hear the rumpling of paper and the slam of a drawer on the other side of the office door. Logan smiled. He always found what he sought. It was pointless to try to hide any secrets from him. Grasping the brass knob, he swung the door open wide.
“Hello, husband! What brings you by?” asked Chloe in a pitched tone.
She was sitting primly behind her desk. With him as an investment partner, she had been able to realize her dream of opening a jewelry shop. The Dirty Diamond was a huge success and very popular among the tourists as well as locals. They were even in the process of expanding the business by creating an online web shop which would feature her own as well as other local artists’ jewelry and high-end crafts.
Logan took in her false, innocent look. He always knew when his babygirl was lying. “You forgot the lunch I made you,” he said in a light tone, matching her own.
With that, he tossed the brown paper bag on her desk.
“You’re right! I did. How silly of me!” Chloe grimaced as she looked down at the sorry looking bag sitting on top of her balance sheet. “You really shouldn’t have. I know how busy you are.”
Logan walked around the desk and sat on the edge, enjoying the anxious look she cast toward the drawer to the left of his thigh.
“Well, I couldn’t let my baby go hungry,” teased Logan as he tapped the tip of her nose, relishing in her girlish nervousness.
Chloe let out a nervous laugh. “I was getting hungry!”
“Really?” asked Logan as he uncrossed his arms. “You sure this cheeseburger and fries weren’t filling you up?”
He flicked open the drawer and exposed her dirty secret. A double cheese Black Angus burger with extra pickles and fries slathered with ketchup laid nestled within their greasy paper-wrapping.
Logan trying to get Chloe to eat healthy, and Chloe sneaking junk food despite his strict orders was a common game they played which often led to some creative punishments. It had been two years since he’d moved to Montreal to be with her and close to one year since they’d married. She continued to entertain and excite him. Life was never boring with Chloe around. Never in his life had he meant something more than when he’d promised to love and protect her. She was his life. His love. His adorable little one. His babygirl.
“Who told on me?” Chloe pouted then stood up and leaned over her desk to call through the open door. “Marianne, you rat!”
Her friend and shop manager poked her head into the office, wagging her finger, she said, “Non! Ne me regarde pas! You don’t have to be married to James Bond to know you have been eating junk food in here! The whole office smells like salt and meat!”
Chloe stuck her tongue out at Marianne, who returned the ge
sture before laughing and closing the door.
“How many times do you have to tell her I am not a spy?” chuckled Logan.
“It is no use. She won’t listen. She loves the romantic idea behind you being an international man of mystery spy, and nothing I say will dissuade her,” said Chloe with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Aren’t you going to see what I brought you?” Logan gave her a wink as he pointedly removed the burger and fries from her drawer and threw them in the trash.
Chloe cast a forlorn look at her discarded lunch. “It is downright un-American to throw away a perfectly good burger,” she grumbled.
“Good thing we are in Canada,” he fired back with a laugh.
Casting him a stubborn pout, she unrolled the top of the paper-bag and peeked inside. Lying between a ham and cheese on whole wheat sandwich and a Ziploc bag of carrot and celery sticks was a pair of handcuffs.
Chloe’s cheeks blushed as she quickly closed the bag, placing both hands on top for good measure.
“Don’t you like your lunch?” Logan pasted on an innocent look as he pried the bag from under her fingers. “Let’s see. We have a ham sandwich, some carrots and celery sticks.” He pulled each item out of the bag and placed it before her. Chloe raised wide eyes to him as he pulled the handcuffs out of the bag and dangled them before her. “And handcuffs. What do these mean, baby?”
“That I was a bad girl,” responded Chloe, trying and failing to hide a slight smile.
His bad girl had a habit of trying to cover her bottom when he used his belt on her. To solve the problem, he had taken to handcuffing her whenever she received that particular punishment, something they both enjoyed.
“What do you say?”
“Sorry, Daddy.”
“And what is your daddy going to do about it?” Logan raised an eyebrow as he spread his legs open. The hard outline of his cock was clearly visible as it rested against his inner thigh.
Chloe rose and stepped between his knees. Running her hands up the top of each thigh, she purred into his ear. “He’s going to punish me with his big…heavy…belt!” finished Chloe as she brushed her fingertips along his shaft before grasping his belt buckle.
With a growl, Logan placed a shoulder into her stomach and lifted her high. Ignoring her playful shrieks, he strolled out of the office. “Chloe is taking the rest of the day off, Marianne. Hold down the fort.”
“Uh huh,” responded Marianne, both her and the employee she was instructing barely looking up. They were accustomed to the playful antics of the owners.
Emerging outside, Logan placed Chloe on the back of his motorcycle and handed her her pink helmet.
“Where are we going?” she asked as she buckled the bedazzled strap under her chin.
Logan leaned in to give her lips a hard kiss. “Daddy’s taking you home.”
The End
Own Me, Daddy
Chapter 1
Hush now, Phoebe, do not you fear
Never mind, Phoebe, the Mad Monk is near
The sickly sweet sing-song voice echoed around her empty bedchamber. Phoebe’s mouth opened, the lower lip trembling in a macabre pantomime of a silent scream. Fear kept her immobile. A fear so intense it struck straight through, making her very bones feel brittle and weak. A cold sweat broke out over her brow as she searched the darkness in vain, trying to peer past the moving shadows. Every outline was suspect. Every hint of sound, real or imagined, a cry of alarm, but there was nothing. Through the distorted glass of her window, she could see the burnt orange and crimson glow from the dance of fire as black cloaked figures ran about with torches, the earlier torrential rain doing nothing to dampen the morbid celebration.
Casting a glance to her left, she could see a faint halo of light surrounding the cracks of the door. Through it was the dark outline of a heavy bolt. The door was locked tight. Of course, someone had managed to get into her locked rooms before this.
It had been a warning.
A warning to stay away, to leave this place.
A warning she was putting herself in danger.
A warning she had ignored.
It was a small, single room chamber with just enough space for a bed, desk and cozy chair in the corner. Barely larger than a student’s dorm room. Surely she would know if someone had entered the chamber.
Leaning over, she flicked the switch to the dome ceiling light. Phoebe both craved the security the brightness would bring and dreaded what it might show.
Nothing happened.
Darkness still reigned.
She felt a fresh wave of terror. It took Phoebe a moment to recall she had removed the light bulb herself earlier in case he had tried to search her room looking for her. She wanted the darkness to shield her, to hide her from his prying, intense gaze, but now she wondered what else the darkness was hiding. Had someone else learned of her true purpose for being there? Learned about the lies she told to get to the truth?
Again she scanned the darkness. The chamber was silent and still save for the distant shouts and cries from those outside.
Maybe she just imagined it?
Her nerves were already strung tight from hiding from him…from lying to him. It only made sense her imagination would lean towards the dark and forbidding, that her mind would conjure up monsters under the bed and a mad monk specter to go bump in the night.
Hush now, Phoebe, do not you fear
Never mind, Phoebe, the Mad Monk is near
The raspy voice was definitely coming from inside her bedchamber.
Phoebe launched herself at the door and throwing the bolt, she ran into the hallway. She was halfway down the long corridor before the chill of the flagstone seeped through her thin socks. In her haste, she had not even grabbed her boots. Throwing a nervous look over her shoulder, the corridor remained empty. The darkness was broken by shafts of weak, bloodstained light. Its source a row of tall, cathedral windows along one wall, in the center of each, a ruby Red Cross of Saint John, a remnant from the school’s monastic past. A luminous full moon shown through each cross, bathing the space in an eerie red glow.
Keeping an eye on the empty corridor, Phoebe reached into her back pocket for her phone. Needing a meager sense of safety, she leaned against the cold stone wall, protecting her back. She pressed the power button and waited for the screen to come to life.
No bars.
The earlier storm must have knocked out what passed for cell service in this remote area. Phoebe didn’t even know who she would call. The police? Would they even dare to cross the gates onto the property? Probably not. Worse. They would probably just call him and expect him to handle the situation. At that very moment, she wasn’t certain what she was more afraid of…the possible murderer haunting her…or his wrath when he found out she had disobeyed him.
One thing was for certain, she needed to keep moving. Needed to find someplace to hide. Someplace no one would think to look for her.
For a brief moment, she wondered if she dared to return to her chamber for her boots but then thought better of it. She would go to the gymnasium. The locker room would be a bright open space and perhaps she could borrow a pair of shoes from one of the open lockers.
With at least an immediate plan in place, Phoebe headed off down the corridor, feeling more confident the farther she got away from the twisted rhyme and whoever was singing it. Stopping before a somber looking portrait of some old man in a white wig who seemed to be staring down at her in disapproval, Phoebe tried to remember where the gym was in the labyrinth of old hallways and buildings.
The moment’s distraction cost her dear.
A strong arm wrapped around her middle as a large hand covered her mouth, stifling any hope of a scream for help. The hard, unrelenting form pressed along her back radiated masculine strength. Phoebe kicked out as her nails clawed at the hand pressing against her lips. Desperate to escape, she tried twisting and turning her body. The band of muscle wrapped tightly across her stomach squeezed harder, pressing p
ainfully into her ribs, cutting off her air. Wrenching her head to one side, Phoebe tried to break his grasp. Her stockinged toes scraped along the flagstone for purchase as, with his superior height, he easily lifted her off her feet.
Still she fought.
Then she heard a deep, throated chuckle.
Warm lips skimmed the shell of her left ear. She could feel the faint touch of his breath along the exposed delicate skin of her neck. Inhaling precious air through her nose, she caught the spicy scent of his cologne.
“I warned you what would happen if you defied me, princess.”
Phoebe’s bright green eyes grew wide at the darkly whispered threat cloaked in an endearment. Her pleas were muffled nonsense from beneath his hand.
Already lightheaded from her fevered gasps for breath, she failed to fight when he shifted his grasp to effortlessly lift her over one powerful shoulder.
“You need to learn that no one…no one…defies my command.”
She could feel him pivot. Just as he crossed a threshold and slammed the door shut behind them, she reclaimed her voice.
The faint echo of her cry was swallowed by the dark shadows of the cold, uncaring stone corridor.
Chapter 2
Two weeks earlier.
Phoebe grimaced as the deafening screech of an out of tune saxophone blared in her ear. Casting a glare over her shoulder at the street performer dressed as Spiderman playing a disgraceful version of Amazing Grace, she stepped off the curb…straight into a pothole. The unexpected jolt caused her ankle to twist as she spilled her mocha latte down the front of her black with purple pinstripes suit.
“Dammit,” cursed Phoebe as the right heel on her black pumps snapped off. As she bent down to retrieve the heel, a taxi horn blared angrily. “All right! All right! I’m moving!” she shouted in the direction of the New York Yellow Cab before hobbling across the crosswalk. Tossing the heel in her shoulder bag, she vainly rummaged around for a napkin or tissue to wipe off her suit. “Too bad people don’t carry handkerchiefs anymore,” she muttered under her breath as she swiped at the droplets of creamy chocolate liquid which clung to the fabric of her skirt. Tossing the now empty coffee cup in the trash, she made her way down the block to the offices of the New York Ledger.