Sheriff Daddy (Montana Daddies Book 10)

by Laylah Roberts

  “Xavier, tell him that he doesn’t need a rectal thermometer.”

  “Oh, I think I’ll leave that conversation up to you two.” Xavier sounded amused.

  The thermometer beeped and Ed drew it back with a frown. “She’s got a fever. It’s 102.”

  “That could be because you were smothering me under a pile of blankets,” Georgina pointed out.

  “Wait five minutes,” Xavier told Ed. “Then take it again. Georgie, take your antacids. If they don’t work and you still have a sore tummy or a temperature or the pain gets worse then call me, okay?”

  “You sure she doesn’t need to come in?”

  “Not yet.”

  Ed didn’t look happy but he agreed. “Fine, but Xavier?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s the most accurate sort of thermometer?” Ed asked.

  “Oh, that would be the rectal one.”

  She gasped as he ended the call. That slimeball! Ed gave her a triumphant look.

  She pointed at him. “Don’t even think about it, buddy.”

  He leaned in. “I’m ordering one tonight. Now, take these. If you’re not feeling better in fifteen minutes, I’m taking you in.”

  “That’s not what Xavier said.”

  He tapped her nose. “Xavier isn’t in charge of your health. I am.”

  24

  “I think I should sleep in the spare bedroom.”

  “Nope.”

  “But what if I can’t sleep beside you?”

  “You did just fine last night,” he replied before lifting her off the bathroom counter and carrying her into the bathroom.

  “What if you can’t sleep?” she asked as he set her down on the side of the bed. She should have asked Xavier whether he thought it was necessary for Ed to carry her everywhere just because of a small cut on her foot.

  Of course, that was assuming Ed would listen to Xavier. Even though he’d totally overreacted over her sore tummy, he’d still insisted on taking her temperature every half hour.

  Yeah, he wouldn’t listen.

  They’d watched the rest of the movie and had a lighter dinner. Her stomach had been fine once the antacids started working. Ed had spent some time working while she’d had a bath. With her foot wrapped up.

  Now he was insisting that they sleep in the same bed. Okay, sure, technically they’d slept together last night. But she’d been totally out of it. This was completely different.

  “Your job isn’t to worry about me, Georgie-girl.”

  She frowned at that as he tucked her into bed. “Then what is my job, sugar plum?”

  He gave her a look. “To do as you’re told, of course.”

  Indignation rose inside her. “Ed!”

  He grinned. “Your job is to stop worrying so much. To relax. Let me look after you.”

  “My job is tough.”

  “That’s why you don’t need to be worrying over me,” he told her.

  She chewed at her lip as she watched him move around the room, getting ready. She was dressed in another of his T-shirts. She knew she should ask for her own clothes. But she liked wearing his.

  Suddenly, he sat beside her. Grabbing her hand, he ran his finger around the palm. She sucked in a breath and raised her gaze to his.

  “Good girl,” he murmured then leaned in to kiss her. The kiss was soft. Gentle. But it still stole the thoughts from her head, sending them tumbling through her brain until she couldn’t grasp hold of them.

  When he drew back, his chocolate eyes were warm. “What’s your real worry, my girl?”

  “That I’ll have a nightmare,” she told him.

  “And if you did? What would be so terrible? What would be the worst-case scenario?”

  The worst-case scenario? “I don’t know. That I’ll wake you up? Maybe thrash around and hit you?”

  “What happens if you wake me up?”

  Was this a trick question. “Umm, I interrupt your sleep.”

  “So then my sleep will get interrupted,” he said calmly. As though it was no big deal.

  “Won’t you be annoyed? Angry? My mother used to hate when I’d wake her with my screams.”

  “I’d be more upset if you had a nightmare and didn’t wake me up,” he told her. “If you suffered through it on your own without asking for help.”

  She sucked in a breath. “I’m not good at asking for help.”

  He reached up and undid the bun she’d put her hair in to have a bath. “I know. I’m going to help you with that. As for hurting me . . . even if you wake up punching, you’re not going to do any real damage. I promise.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “A knee to the groin can hurt no matter how big you are.”

  “You knee me in the balls, then you have to kiss it and make it all better.”

  Her mouth dropped open as he winked.

  “You’re sleeping in this bed. With me. So stop worrying about it. Now, where’s Squawkers?”

  “Oh, umm, I don’t need to sleep with him . . .” she trailed off as Ed stood and gave her ‘the Ed look’. That’s what she was calling it until she came up with something better. Trademark pending.

  Anyway, ‘the Ed look’ came out often. Usually when he seemed to think she was doing or saying something she shouldn’t be. ‘The Ed look’ usually involved lowered eyebrows, stern brown eyes, and slightly pursed lips. ‘The Ed look’ could make her stomach take a nosedive or dance depending on the reason for its appearance.

  ‘The Ed look’ was both scary and reassuring all at the same time. It made her want to simultaneously rebel and be a good little girl.

  “He’s in the bedside drawer.”

  He grabbed Squawkers and handed him to her. Leaning over her, he kissed her forehead gently. “I know that you’re at war with yourself over your Little side. That society teaches us that we have to be a certain way and if we’re not, then we’re weird or wrong. But in this house, with me, you are neither of those things. Nor am I. Here, you can be whoever you need to be. No judgment. No right or wrong. Okay?”

  His look had softened and warmth filled her tummy. “Okay.”

  “That’s my good girl.”

  He stepped away and turned off the light, leaving the bathroom light on. She felt exhausted, even though she hadn’t done anything all day.

  “Just going to check the house one more time,” he murmured to her quietly.

  She was out like a light.

  My little Daisy.

  So sweet. So beautiful.

  And all mine.

  But you broke the rules, little Daisy. And now you need to pay . . .

  She sat up with a scream. Sweat coated her skin. Her heart raced so hard that she felt ill.

  Sick. Going to be sick.

  A hand landed on her shoulder and she screamed again.

  “Easy, baby, it’s me. It’s just me. It’s Ed.”

  Ed. It was Ed. He wouldn’t hurt her. She was at his house. Not with that sick bastard.

  “Sick,” she croaked out.

  Picking her up, he carried her to the bathroom. She threw up over and over until there was nothing left in her stomach. He held her hair back. When she was finished, he gently lifted her and sat her on the counter.

  “Can you sit by yourself, baby?” he asked gently.

  “Yes. I’m . . .” She stopped herself from saying it.

  “You’re learning,” he said to her.

  She frowned. “I’m not a dog to be taught a lesson.”

  He grasped hold of her chin. “No, you’re my girl, who needs to learn to not brush her needs away.”

  She sucked in a breath. His T-shirt was coated with sweat and sticking to her. She felt disgusting.

  He must have realized that because the look on his face softened. “Poor baby.” He put some toothpaste on her toothbrush then handed it to her.

  After she brushed her teeth, he wiped her face. Then he grabbed another cloth and wet it. Putting her hands on her thighs, palms up, he put the cool cloth on her wrists.
She sighed in pleasure as the coolness helped her heated skin. He did the same with another cloth on the back of her neck.

  “I’m going to get you a new T-shirt. Are you okay sitting there? You don’t feel dizzy?”

  “No. I can get down.”

  “Just sit there for a moment longer. Please, for me.”

  It was the last part that had her nodding. He wasn’t a man who said please a lot. Not that he was an asshole. He was just used to getting his way.

  When he returned with a clean T-shirt, she was feeling drained. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

  “Hush. What did I say about waking me up when you had a nightmare?”

  “You’d be upset if I didn’t wake you up.”

  “That’s right. Will you let me help you change your T-shirt? Nothing more.”

  “I . . . I can’t.” He’d see her scar.

  Something filled his face. Disappointment? She hated to think she had disappointed him. But then he gave a decisive nod.

  “I get it.”

  She reached out and grasped his hand. “No, you don’t. Me not wanting you to see me like that . . . it has nothing to do with you. It’s tied to my past.”

  “To do with your nightmares? The man that hurt you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Will you tell me?”

  “I . . . I . . .” Shit. Why was this so hard?

  “It’s okay, Georgie-girl. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He stepped out so she could change. Why couldn’t she tell him? What was she so scared of? That he’d think she was weak? He’d already seen her weak. He hadn’t left. He was still here. Despite everything.

  “I’m ready,” she called out.

  Walking in, he lifted her gently and carried her back to bed. Lying her down, he tucked her in gently. Then he climbed in beside her. She lay on her back. There was no way she’d go to sleep now. And at least if she told him in the dark, she wouldn’t have to see his face.

  “He hurt me. He cut my stomach. I have a scar.”

  There was silence for a long moment then he rolled towards her. “Will you show me?” He reached out and placed his hand over hers. “Take my hand and show me.”

  Grasping hold of his hand, her cheeks going hot, she lifted his hand and raised her T-shirt up so it was just under her breasts. Then she placed his hand over her scar. Gently, so lightly she could barely feel it, he ran a finger over her scar. She let go of his hand, letting him explore.

  “Can I kiss it? If you want me to stop at any time, just say stop.”

  “Okay.”

  He pushed the covers back, moving lower in the bed, curling himself up onto his side, and then leaning up on one elbow. Then he placed kisses along her scar.

  “Ed,” she groaned.

  “I hate that you were hurt. That I wasn’t there to protect you. That you were in pain, afraid, that you still have nightmares.”

  “Me too.” Even though she knew it was silly, she felt like if he’d been around that nothing bad would have happened to her.

  He kissed up her stomach until he reached the bottom of her breast, where the T-shirt was bunched. She sucked in a breath. Would he touch her there? How would she feel about that? Her pussy was currently damp, her clit throbbing with the need to be touched.

  “Easy, baby. I know you’re not ready for anything more,” he soothed.

  “I . . . I . . . what if I am?”

  He stiffened then relaxed. “Do you want me to touch you? To give you pleasure?”

  “Maybe.” Definitely. “I mean, only if I get to do the same to you.” She wasn’t a selfish lover.

  “No.”

  Disappointment was sharp.

  “Tonight, it’s just about you.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “To who? I get what I want most, to touch you. And you get pleasured.” And then he nudged his T-shirt over her breast and took her nipple into his mouth. She arched up off the bed with a cry.

  “But don’t you want me to touch you?” she asked.

  He licked over her nipple. “I’m not just in this for a quick fuck, Georgie. I’m in this for you. I want you. In all ways. Yeah, I want to fuck you. But I want your soul more. I want all of you.”

  He slid his hand under the boxers she wore to run his finger along her pussy. He ran it up and down her slit as she breathed heavily. She groaned, wanting his touch against her clit.

  Could she give him that? She wanted to. Desperately. He moved her T-shirt up over her other breast then leaned over her to lap at her other nipple. “Your breasts are fucking addictive. I want to wake up every morning and roll over to suck on these beauties.”

  Just the thought of him doing that had her crying out.

  “You like that idea too, don’t you?” he asked huskily. “You’re going to be mine, Georgie. Forever.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Uh, you can’t just say that.”

  “It’s already decided,” he countered.

  “Do the residents of Wishingbone know that their sheriff is insane?”

  He snorted. “You’ve met some of them. Think they care?”

  No, because they were all batshit crazy as well.

  Leaning up, he grasped her chin, then he kissed her. It was hard. Hot. Sizzling. When he drew back, she looked up at him. “I let you go once. Then you came back. And your fate was sealed. I’m going to give you what you need. I just need you to tell me. What do you want, Georgie-girl?”

  “You.”

  “You can’t have me yet,” he whispered.

  Darn him anyway. Was he trying to kill her?

  “What do you want?” he crooned in a dark voice.

  Oh Lord. This was decadently dark Ed. Sexy and in charge.

  He was going to kill her.

  “I want to come.”

  “Good girl for telling me what you need,” he praised her.

  A shiver ran through her at his words. He pressed his finger down on her clit. It wasn’t enough though. Reaching down, she grasped hold of his hand, trying to move him. “Please!”

  “Uh-uh, remove your hand, naughty girl.”

  Her breath was coming in fast pants, her head swam with desire but she snatched her hand back.

  “That’s my girl. Now, here is what is going to happen. I’m going to make you feel good. But you’re to keep your hands wrapped around the headboard, understand?”

  She whimpered. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “You can,” he reassured her. “And you’re going to have a safeword.”

  “Why?” They weren’t going to do anything more, right? She wasn’t ready for anything else.

  “Shh, you’re panicking. This is meant to be a treat for being a good girl and telling me about your scar.”

  Oh. Ohhh. She could get behind these types of rewards.

  “I like treats.”

  “Do you? Well, that’s good. Because every time you open up, or tell me what’s wrong or going on in your head, every time you come to me instead of fretting, you get a treat.”

  She definitely liked the sound of that.

  “It won’t always be an orgasm, of course.”

  She pouted. “But I like orgasms.”

  Okay, who was she?

  “Your safeword is red. Something nice and simple to remember. We’re not going to do anything too intense. I’ll go very carefully and you’ll have a safeword so if I come anywhere close to a trigger, you can say it and everything stops. Can you trust me to stop if you need me to?”

  “I do trust you. And he didn’t rape me. Sex is . . . sex is fine.”

  “Sex is fine?” he growled. “Baby, sex should be more than just fine. And you know how much I hate that word.”

  “It’s never been more than that for me.”

  “Gonna have fun changing that.” He licked his tongue over her nipple. “I’m fucking glad he didn’t rape you, but still, I do anything that makes you unsure or uncomfortable. At any time. You
say red. All right?”

  She nodded.

  “Words, my girl.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Ahh, you catch on quick.” He kissed along her jaw. “Now sit up for a moment.”

  She sat and he drew off the T-shirt.

  “Lie down, hands wrapped around the headboard. Keep them there unless you need to use your safeword, understand?”

  “Yes,” she managed to get out.

  How had she gone from a nightmare to this? The last thing she thought she’d feel like after a nightmare was to be touched and commanded like this. Yet her body was on fire with wanting him. Needing his touch. He kissed his way down her body, played with her nipples, sucking on one then the other. Lapping at them with his tongue. He moved his hand to her pussy, running a finger up and down her slit. Then he slid his finger underneath the boxers to flick lightly at her clit.

  She stiffened, holding onto the headboard tight.

  “Easy, baby. You’re going to get what you need. I promise.” He kissed down her stomach. Oh shoot. He wasn’t going to . . .

  He landed a kiss right on her clit, running his tongue over it through the black cotton.

  “Red!”

  He shot up, staring down at her in consternation. “What is it? What’s wrong? What hurts?”

  “Nothing, no, you didn’t hurt me.”

  “Did I scare you?” He gathered her into his lap and rocked her back and forth. Suddenly, she felt really stupid for calling out her safeword.

  “Oh no, I think I did it wrong,” she wailed.

  Whoa. Where did that come from? Since when did she wail? She never made noises like that. Dramatics weren’t allowed when you were a James.

  Well, screw being a James.

  Wow. Okay, either Ed was a very bad influence on her. Or a really, really good one.

  She tended to think it was the latter.

  “Did what wrong, my girl?”

  “Used my safeword wrong. I don’t think I did it right.”

  He stilled. “What do you mean? How did you do it wrong? You didn’t mean to use it? Or . . . “

  “I didn’t use it right. I wasn’t in pain or scared. I was just . . . I, umm, it seemed like you were about to . . . oh shoot. Were you going to put your mouth on me? There?”