Until Daddy: Dark Lace Series

by Stone, Measha

  “How many spankings have you received for being a bad girl, Carissa?” he asked, running his hand in a large circle over both her cheeks.

  Bad girl? Weren’t they having fun?

  “Um.”

  His hand raised and crashed down onto her bottom, making her jolt from the surprise of the impact.

  “How many bad-girl spankings have you gotten? I’d like an answer please.”

  “Three!” she answered quickly when his hand disappeared from her bottom again. The first swat had left warmth behind, and she anticipated the next to be stronger if she displeased him.

  He smacked her bottom again, a bit softer, and rubbed away the sting afterward. “Only three?” He tsked.

  Discipline hadn’t been in the forefront of any of her previous boyfriends’ minds. They liked the slap-and-tickle game but having to actually mete out a punishment didn’t excite them.

  “Yes, sir.” She gripped the chair leg after the third swat to her backside.

  He chuckled, running his hand up and down her exposed thighs. His fingers barely slid under the hem of her dress, and she mentally willed him to slide up farther.

  “Either you’re a very good girl, or you’ve been overindulged.” His palm lifted from her thighs and peppered her ass with half a dozen swats. Not overly harsh, but with enough sting to satisfy her and make her wiggle on his lap.

  “Oh!” He pinched her thigh, and she swung her hand back to protect her sensitive flesh.

  “No, no. None of that, or I’ll have to hold your arm for you and give you a naughty spanking. You don’t want one of those already, do you?”

  His voice reminded her of silken chocolate, so smooth and decadent. Her body responded to it as well. Her clit brushed his leg as she wiggled beneath the spanks and, if she didn’t control herself, she would start humping his knee like a wild beast in heat.

  “No, no, sir.” She gripped his pant leg as the spanking continued. A varied array of strong and soft swats spread out across both cheeks. He knew exactly how hard to spank in one area before moving to another. Warmth blossomed over her bottom, stealing her focus from anything else going on in the room. As far as her mind was concerned, it was only her and Jamison in the room.

  “Now, that’s a good warmup.” He patted her backside, and she looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes.

  Warm up?

  “You didn’t think that was the end of it, did you, little girl?” He winked at her.

  His hands, now warm from the delivery of the spanking, slid under her skirt and pushed it up over her hips, revealing her naked bottom. The thong she’d put on had been cute, practical with the tightness of the skirt so as not to show panty lines. Lots of guys loved a sexy thong, but the tsk of his tongue suggested he was not among them.

  “A thong.” He pulled up the string nestled between her cheeks and let it snap back into place. “Little girls shouldn’t wear such clothing.” He patted her right butt cheek. “Your bottom is already a pretty pink.” His hands roamed again over her cheeks while his free hand rested on her back. “I think my little girl can take a bit more from me tonight. What do you think?”

  His little girl? She didn’t hate the sound of that.

  “Yes…sir.” The word, the title that would make the moment that much more perfect stayed lodged in her throat.

  When his hand made contact with her bare bottom, she jumped, the sting much sharper than before. Despite it being December in Chicago, she’d worn a thin dress. It offered little protection. His hard hand on her exposed bottom shouldn’t feel much harder than with the flimsy material protecting her. Another swat, and she jumped again. More heat spread, and he continued to rain down fire across her bottom.

  She wiggled and kicked her ankles, both of which he stilled by hugging her closer to his body and wrapping one leg around both of hers.

  “Oh! Ow!” She covered her bottom momentarily but quickly moved her hand out of the way, sure he wouldn’t hesitate to go harder on her if he felt the need.

  As much as her bottom throbbed, her clit reacted in kind. The wiggling only made her need worse, and the pressure built in her lower belly as she ached for release.

  “That’s a good girl. Almost finished.” He dragged his nails across her sore backside, making her hiss.

  “Yes, sir.” The tingling and soaring sensation of each smartly delivered smack coursed through her body, lifting her up onto a new plane of pleasure.

  “There we are.” He dug his nails into her again, and she sighed, resting her head against his calf. “You did so good. And good girls get very good rewards.” He moved his leg from trapping her and pushed her outer thigh away. “Open your legs for me, Carissa. Let me get to your sweetness. You need a release and have earned it.”

  She obeyed, spreading her legs, even lifting her hips from his lap to give him better access. He didn’t pull her thong aside, but rather slid his fingers beneath the thin, wet material.

  “So wet for me.” With his free hand, he ran up the length of her back and sank his fingers into her hair, fisting it and pulling back until she arched upward. “Now, keep being a good girl and fuck my fingers. Come on my lap, with your bright red ass staring up at me.” He plunged two fingers into her passageway, and she groaned with the pleasure of it.

  She planted her toes on the ground and did exactly as he instructed. His fingers fucked her while she pushed against him. When a finger brushed her clit, she groaned and rode his lap even harder.

  “Oh! Oh god!” She gripped his leg.

  “That’s my good girl. Come for me. Come hard.” He tugged her hair, and the little bit of extra pressure, the tiniest flash of pain, and she skyrocketed over the edge where she’d been teetering. She screamed out her release, rocking harder against his thighs and riding every severe pulsation of her orgasm until finally everything stilled. Her breath settled, and her orgasm faded silently, leaving her in a haze of genuine softness.

  Quietly, Jamison helped rearrange her clothing and to get onto her feet. He pulled her back into his lap and pushed her head against his chest, letting her take more time to come back to earth.

  “You are more than I expected,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to her head. He smelled of musky aftershave. She snuggled farther into his neck. “Better than I could have wished for.” He kissed her again.

  He sounded pleased, but she hadn’t given him his release. He made no move to request one either; he simply held her while she found herself again.

  She felt so comfortable, so at home snuggling into his arms. Reality sank in, though, and she realized she needed to get home. She had an early shift, so she had to get away before the comfort and level of intimacy made her want things that weren’t possible.

  She needed to get away from Jamison. As far away as possible.

  Chapter 2

  The lights in the main dungeon dimmed as the spotlights illuminated the stage. The evening’s main event would start any moment—a bondage demonstration. Jamison Croft, one of the owners of Dark Lace, leaned back in his chair and watched the screen.

  He searched the crowd, knowing he’d find her. She’d be there. She had shown up a handful of times since their playtime at the Mistletoe Madness dungeon party nearly two weeks ago. Each time he saw her, she pressed herself into a crowd, either watching one of the intense scenes in the room or inching closer to the room they’d played in before she practically ran away from it. Was she suddenly ashamed of her desire to play in the nursery, or was she nervous she’d see him inside?

  The nursery. How he hated that name. He’d begged the board to change it to something—anything—else, but he’d been outvoted. A small room off the main dungeon that held a variety of age play equipment. Everything from changing tables to toddler beds, and even one corner devoted to middles.

  Carissa didn’t play by those labels though. One of the many reason’s he’d felt so drawn to her that night.

  That damn night. It had started out perfectly fine. They met, they talk
ed, they laughed, and then they played. Nothing serious. A short spanking. A taste of what they both wanted. She hadn’t played coy, and when he walked her over to the nursery, she’d been more than willing to enter. He had noticed that about her, too, the innocent way she glanced over at the age-play room.

  What went wrong after the spanking, he had no fucking clue. He’d asked for her number, and she had given it freely. Then nothing. Not a single response to any message or voicemail in over a week. He didn’t play that way. When he scened with a sub, he damn well wanted to be sure they were okay the next day. He had been clear on that subject. Her ignoring him denied them both the necessary after-care. Hell, it denied him his peace of mind.

  “Okay, now you’re stalking her.” Grant’s voice jolted Jamison from his thoughts.

  “I am not,” he denied and turned away from the computer screen.

  Grant laughed and kicked the door to the office closed. “Right. Except I can see her right there on your screen. The same chick you’ve been watching for the past week.”

  Jamison ignored Grant.

  “When are you coming in to get some work done? Maybe go through that massive pile of applications on your desk, or did you want to check out the security footage with me?” Jamison pointed to the messiest of the three desks in the small office. Other offices were being used for storage until alternative arrangements were made, so the three partners who worked the business had agreed to share space for the time being.

  Grant shook his head. “Would it make your ego feel better if I told you she’s asked about you?”

  Jamison wouldn’t admit it, but it would. “She did?” He shifted in his seat, suddenly anxious to start asking questions and digging for more information about what she’d said, and how she’d looked when she said it. But he managed to control his reaction and not go off like some lovesick puppy.

  “Yeah. Steven told me she’s asked if you were here the last three times she came. And when he said no, she looked a hell of a lot more disappointed than relieved.”

  “I’ve been here every time-" Jamison caught himself before he revealed too much excitement.

  But it was too late. Grant laughed. “He didn’t know you knew her.”

  “He could have told me.” Jamison turned back to the screen. Bingo. She hid in the back of the group while peering intently over a shorter girl’s shoulder. Bondage wasn’t her thing, from what she’d told him. What had her so enthralled?

  His chest tightened, and he inched closer to the screen, needing to see her more clearly.

  He moved his gaze to the corner of the screen where an obvious daddy and his little girl were in the middle of a punishment. The girl’s pigtails swung across the floor as she squirmed over her daddy’s lap, while his open palm struck her bare bottom over and over again. The fierceness of his scowl and his narrowed eyes explained plenty. That little girl had landed herself some trouble and gained an avid spectator. Carissa’s eyes were wide, and the tip of her tongue rested on her upper lip.

  Maybe he’d spank her for being nosy. He grinned with the mental vision of it, and his mouth curved downward.

  If she’d return his fucking calls.

  “Why don’t you go out there and talk if you have it this bad for her?” Grant asked as he picked up a small stack of applications from his desk.

  “I don’t have it bad for anyone. He shot his partner a quick look of irritation before his eyes went back to Carissa. “What, are you in high school?” Jamison watched Carissa’s reaction to the spanking being dished out while he berated his friend.

  “Here’s what I see.” Grant dropped the papers on his desk and strode over to Jamison’s, leaning to jam a finger at the monitor. “That girl has you twisting in the wind. If you want to talk to her, go talk to her. Tell her what bullshit it’s been, her ignoring you. If she wasn’t interested, she could open her damn mouth and say so. Or, at least, tap a few fucking words into her phone.” When he wasn’t handling the background checks for new members and employees of the dungeon, Grant worked on the Chicago Police force. Being attentive to details, like someone’s reactions, came with the job.

  Grant was right. Jamison knew it, and the urge to barge out onto the dungeon floor and have that conversation with her burned hotter with the encouragement. Yet, he still didn’t move.

  “Girls fucking hate it when guys do this shit to them, yet here she is pulling the same crap.” Grant slapped Jamison on the back and returned to his desk. “Or, you know, keep staring at her through the security cameras like a creep. Whatever floats your boat.” He flashed Jamison a white-toothed grin and grabbed the pile of papers from his desk and headed toward the door. “I’m gonna run through these on my break tonight. I have a late shift at the precinct.”

  “It’s not creepy.” Jamison said, but he clicked the program off and opened his email. “Have a good shift.”

  Grant shook his head. “See you tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have your spine back by then. I’ve never seen you so cautious with a girl before.”

  “Well, this one’s different.” He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back.

  Grant shook his head with sigh. “They’re all the same, Jamison. A girl is a girl is a girl.”

  “Such a fucking romantic.” Jamison laughed.

  Grant grunted, threw him a grin and headed out, leaving Jamison with the strong temptation to turn the security program back on and check on Carissa. The ring of his cell phone saved him from his own weakness.

  His father. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the call.

  “Jamison. Good I caught you. I have an opportunity you’re not going to want to miss.” His father always had an opportunity not to be passed on.

  “I’m sort of in the middle of a project at the moment, and Garrick and I are working on a deal with a condo complex. I’m not sure I can fit in anything else right now.” Even after five years of trying to get out from under his father’s corporate thumb, the struggle never ceased.

  “That’s fine. This is huge. Your little projects with Garrick won’t get in the way at all.” Little projects.

  Jamison closed his eyes for a moment. Arguing that his company may not be a corporate glomerate like his father’s, but he and Garrick were doing just fine, wouldn’t get him anywhere, and would only keep him on the phone longer with his father.

  “Come over, and we’ll review the details.”

  Jamison clicked the security screen open again in time to see Carissa walking toward the lockers. The demonstration had finished, and the girl who’d been thoroughly punished stood facing a wall with her nose pressed firmly against it.

  “Not tonight. I’ll look at my calendar and have my secretary schedule something.”

  “Of course. I have dinner plans myself this evening. But don’t wait too long, Jamison.” The phone clicked, signaling his father had disconnected the call.

  Jamison didn’t give him another thought. Whatever he wanted would wait, at least until his father’s patience ran out, then he would track him down.

  He switched the screen to the parking lot and spotted Carissa. She stepped into a cab, and Jamison scribbled down the license plate and noted the time.

  “Shit. I am getting creepy.” He sighed and dropped his pen to the desk then flipped off his monitor.

  He needed to forget her. If she wanted nothing to do with him, why should he waste any more time thinking about her, worrying she’d find someone who wouldn’t treat her right—wouldn’t give her what she really craved.

  Yes. Carissa McAllister, your message has been received.

  Chapter 3

  Carissa McAllister stepped out of the cab and joined the crowd of people waiting to gain entrance to Dark Lace. She let out a long breath.

  She could do this. Fear didn’t twist her stomach into knots. Anticipation. Yes, something close to exhilaration. Not fear for what might happen if she ran into him.

  Because she could handle running into Jamison. She would simply ignore his presence. If
he even showed up.

  She sure as hell wasn’t nervous either. Nerves were reserved for men she had a fighting chance at winning and keeping. They were not to be wasted on those obviously as much out of her league as her social class. Not to mention their shared kink. Just another sign to stay away.

  Besides, it was New Year’s Eve. The odds he even considered attending the New Year’s Eve party at Dark Lace were impossibly slim. The man owned more property within the city limits than she ever would in her lifetime. Surely, he had somewhere much more sophisticated to be at the stroke of midnight.

  But she wasn’t going to imagine him in a tuxedo walking through a ballroom full of gorgeous women falling at his feet. No, she was not going to do that. Even if he probably looked killer in the perfectly tailored suit, showing off his broad shoulders, his muscular physique. His dark hair would be styled casually, pushed off to the side of his forehead, which would expose his dark-chocolate-colored eyes. He’d smile with his thick lips at the ladies vying for his attention. Lips that could, no- did, make her body tingle just from the memory of their touch.

  But she wasn’t thinking about that.

  She moved up in line, taking out the small membership card to show the bouncer once she made it in the front door.

  “Hey, Carissa!” Steven greeted her with a wide grin. The darkness of the front hall didn’t hide his handsome features. Chiseled jaw, square shoulders. He must have stepped right out of one of the historical romance novels she used to read in college.

  “Hi, Steven.” She retrieved her membership card from him. Obviously, she’d spent more time at the club since her first visit right before Christmas than she thought. When a bouncer knows your first name and barely looks at your membership card, it’s a sign you’ve been tagged a regular.

  “Long day?” he asked.

  Working a ten-hour shift at the emergency room would be considered a long day by anyone’s standards, but for her it was the norm.

  “Same as usual.”