by Wyatt, Dani
She giggles and I slap her soaking pussy just for good measure before flipping her dress back down and pulling her up.
I gather up my clothes and she helps me get myself back together before wrapping her arms around my waist and pulling me tight. And I hug her back, twice as hard.
“You’re dripping down the insides of my legs, Daddy.”
“Good. I want you to feel me like that this entire day. You know who you belong to, don’t you?”
“You, Daddy. Always and forever.”
“Good girl. Such a good girl.”
Epilogue Three
CHASTITY
FIVE YEARS LATER
“Mommy and Daddy will be right there, Emily. One second——”
I lose the last words on a pleasured gasp as Magnus pinches my clit between his magical lips, making me cum on his face for the third time this morning. My head swims with pleasure, making the next words difficult to form.
“Are...” A moan as I regain my breath. “Are you done?”
I smile at the sight of my monster of a husband sitting on the floor of the kitchen, leaning against the cabinets with his tongue still lapping between my legs where I’m straddling his face, his hands gripping my skirt at my hips.
“Because it’s pancake Sunday, and these pancakes aren’t going to make themselves.”
“Go, babe, I’ll just watch from down here.”
“You’re impossible.”
Emily is playing with the dogs in the great room. I can see her from my position in the kitchen, but she can’t see her father or what’s going on down below.
“You’re beautiful.” He answers with a sigh. Letting my skirt down with a smack on the outside of my thigh. I quit wearing panties years ago, Daddy’s orders. “That ass is going to be turned up and red tonight. You know why, too.”
“Yes, Daddy.” I whisper down at him.
“No skipping meals, baby. I told you, I like you just the way you are. The babies only made you more beautiful to me. You skip breakfast again, and it won’t just be a spanking.”
Emily is four and Magnus Jr. is three. Then there’s Lenny, who is just six months. We’re done now. The doctor said the complications with Lenny would make it dangerous for me to have any more babies, but we’re okay with that. We have three beautiful children and our life is full and chaotic, and more wonderful than I ever imagined.
We’ve managed to keep our own personal dynamic alive, too. I will always be Daddy’s girl, and although we tone it down when we’re with them, even in front of the kids we show our love that way. We are still who we are. I belong to him completely and he loves me unconditionally.
He’s a ripe pain in my butt sometimes, but I know that he really does know best and I trust him completely.
The rehab is running on its own now. With the kids and everything, I only manage to work there once a week at the shelter doing some group pet therapy with the patients, but that’s enough for me.
Even Dad is working a little. He’s slow, his rough life has caught up with him a bit, but he does what he can with some activities and talks at the center. He certainly knows what they are going through, and it gives him purpose. Magnus bought him a little house nearby, down the road from us, and he has a driver to take him wherever he wants.
Erik and Andrea got hitched a couple years ago. They ended up living in the city, which suits them, but we get together every Friday night for a family dinner. Cindy comes too. She hasn’t found her happily ever after yet, but she’s doing well. The wine business is now in six states and there’s no sign of the growth stopping any time soon.
“Baby’s crying.” Magnus has ears like an eagle. “I’ll go get the little monster. Get those tits out and ready. I’ll hand him off to you and finish up the pancakes.”
“Yes, Daddy. Whatever you say.”
“Darn right.”
With a smack on my ass and a kiss on my cheek he’s out of the kitchen and chirping something at Emily as she pulls on the dog’s ears and tumbles around with all her furry friends like a pig in mud.
Every day I still let Magnus know how much I want him. Because I do. I guess I never imagined what this kind of life could be like for us. Ours is a special kind of love, but I can’t imagine it any other way. I’m the luckiest girl I know.
M A S T E R I N G H E R H E A R T
Dani Wyatt
The night Willow Wilson walks through the doors of my private club, all my self-control vanishes. I am known as Lord Tower, master and owner of a discreet establishment where fantasies become a reality. Years ago when fate first brought Willow to me, she was my step-daughter. She called me Daddy, then. And she will again if I have my way.
In the time since we’ve been apart, she’s only grown more beautiful. Her lush curves have filled out. Her heart calls to me. And I will have her even if I have to kick down the very doors of hell to make her mine. Right or wrong.
But even Lords have weaknesses. And she is the one for which I will give everything, even if it means letting her go. Again.
Author Note: Never fear, this book is still as safe as can be. There is as much darkness in this hot little read as there is light. As much swoony sweetness and steamy sexiness as you expect. But be warned, this Daddy is done waiting and his princess is about to be claimed.
A NOTE TO MY READERS:
I appreciate every one of you.
Dedicated to N.
You are the wind beneath my wings.
And you understand my Daddy fetish.
xoxo
.
Chapter One
Pike
I haven’t felt my heartbeat since I left. Almost six years have passed since that day, and I still haven’t forgiven myself. I didn’t want to go, but I had to. It was the only way, even though it broke me but saved her. At least that’s what I tell myself.
I left my heart there.
But took my shame with me.
My cock hasn’t risen at the sight, sound or scent of another woman since the day I married her mother. The day she poked her head into her mother’s office, just as we were putting our signatures on the marriage certificate.
Marriage.
Might as well have been a merger. That certificate was a business document, nothing more. I think we celebrated with a glass of bourbon, but it could have been rye.
As ashamed as I am to admit it, even before my feelings for her turned more intimate as she grew into a woman, my interest in any other females in the world evaporated the day I married her mother and saw her sweet face for the first time.
Who would ever have guessed that a college pact with a friend would truly come to pass? A mutually beneficial agreement at that particular point in both our lives. Margaret and I never shared a kiss, certainly never shared a bed. It should have been simple.
Only, the one part I hadn’t planned on in our deal was her.
Willow.
I knew that day. I remember the word repeating in my head at the first glance of her. Its meaning changed over the years as she grew but it still remains branded into my memory. Never before and never again will that word apply to anyone but her.
Mine.
I swallow hard and take a deep breath through my nose, trying to re-gain my bearings. No one around me would know it, but I am in a tailspin, out of control.
The famous Lord Tower, about to crack his façade right here in front of a few hundred of my nearest and dearest.
Truth is, I know none of them. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I know their names. We spend time together. But I give none of myself to them. To anyone.
I’ve saved that for her.
Unconsciously, yes. But now I’m done pretending.
Because she’s here.
And I can hardly believe my eyes.
I’m riveted, watching her move through the crowd. She has three friends with her, or to be more precise it looks like she’s with them, following with wide eyes on the room, taking in the sights, smells, sounds. I know how i
ntoxicating it can be. Inside my head the room goes silent.
I reach to the pair of binoculars I keep on the table of the balcony. Using them allows me to be sure even from a distance that the rules of the club are respected. That no one is in over their head. Consent is king and it is my ultimate responsibility to keep a keen eye out for everyone that comes through my doors.
At a moment’s notice I can push single button and all activity with my club will stop. From my perch above the floor of the club I raise the binoculars and tighten the sight onto her face.
The face that’s swirled in my dreams for so many years.
The face I imagine as this woman I see now, only dripping with my cum. Covered in me as I am with her.
In my dreams she is feral, mewling, writhing at my feet as I coax her to show me who she is. Who we are.
Together. Always together.
My cock is fully erect. Tearing at the cloth of my vintage Armani tuxedo trousers with claws that seem to have sprung to life since she came through the door of my club and straight back into my life.
Where she belongs.
I know in this instant...never again will I live without her light in my life. There exists no force on Earth strong enough to keep me from her this time.
“Sir?” The young woman in front of me registers only the most essential amount of my attention. The rest is reserved for Willow.
“Yes, Vexxie, thank you for coming so quickly.”
She’s a petite, delicate thing, well put together and loyal to a fault. One of the few members of my staff that I trust with the most important aspects of my life.
“Of course, Sir. How can I be of service?” Vexxie lowers her eyes, as most of the staff do when I look directly at them.
The dress code for staff is all black. That’s non-negotiable. Her above the knee, skin tight dress leaves nothing to the imagination. Black latex. High neck. It’s appropriate attire, designed to flatter and reveal, not to cover. But from me she draws nothing but professional attention.
“You will service table seventeen tonight. I want you to give them your most impeccable service.”
“Yes, Sir. Friends of yours?” She blushes as her voice quivers.
A simple conversation with me has her barely able to form words.
I consider the question for a long moment, then speak softly. “No.” The simple word is tinged with regret. When I continue, my jaw is tight. “Not friends.”
With a tip of my head the conversation is over. Vexxie lowers her eyes and dismisses herself as I step back onto the balcony of my office, half hidden behind the black velvet drapery pulled around the gently curved corners.
I’ve owned this club for twenty years. In this world, our public names are rarely used. Here, I am known as Lord Tower and this place is the House of Tower. A mansion I purchased, renovated and opened specifically for the purpose of entertaining the elegance and dignity of the Lifestyle. Not the carnival ride of taboo and sex it has become elsewhere. No, I am from another school. An ancient time when respect, authority, wisdom, honor and reverence were the character traits most valued in this life.
It’s not just about the sex as so many wrongly assume. That’s a perversion that’s taken on a life of its own in the last decade. I am a single minded, decisive, dominant man. I want one woman, one individual, and if nothing ever comes to pass between us then I will not touch another. Never. It will be that way until the day I die.
“Lord Tower?” Sir James stops just outside the open office door.
The staff know I am available to them at all times. I care deeply about each one of them. Well, I am available unless the red light is on outside my door, but that’s only happened once in twenty years. It wasn’t because I brought someone here with me. No, it was when I felt most alone and wished for that loneliness to punish me.
I smile at James. The genial smile comes easily for me but for too long it’s been merely a facial reaction without the depth of joy it should represent. “Yes. Come in.”
“May I ask a favor?” James is attired in a black suit that absorbs any light, seeming to stay pressed and sharp without a single crease as he moves forward into the room and takes a seat in one of my white wingback chairs. My office is a blend of purity and decadence. Fresh cream and white, splashes of gold, moments of rich red the color of blood.
Seems that is the theme in my life and it repeats itself in places I didn’t realize until right now.
“Of course, Sir James. What can I do for you?”
My club has kept the old school dignity of the lifestyle alive in this area. This world is not what it once was. She changed everything for me the day she swept my heart from my chest with a single glance.
I am still the Lord of this House, but I have not raised a hand, a tool or a touch to anyone since that day I met my stepdaughter. She was too young then, of course, and my feelings toward her were simple, pure, paternal. Nonetheless, the essence of her heart shifted something in my very DNA. My being changed that day.
At first I was her protector. A custodian of her in every way. I took joy in her joy. Pain in her pain. I provided for her. Loved her. Kept her safe. I knew she was destined to be mine. A part of me in some way for the rest of my life.
As the years moved by, what grew in my heart shook me to my very core. As she grew into a woman, my wanting changed.
Then, the want became too much. Too acutely painful. As she blossomed under my very nose, the beast inside of me grew and roared to life. It was wrong. She was too innocent and I knew I would destroy her if I stayed.
So, I left. My shame multiplied tenfold as I said goodbye and kissed the tears from her cheeks. Secretly dying inside as I tried to explain to her not only why her mother and I were parting, but why I was leaving.
As I struggled with the decision to stay or go, my fate was sealed. My other life, my life as Lord Tower threatened to be exposed by a former business advisary who wandered into my club one evening. Most in the life are discreet, respecting the decency of keeping this part of our life out of the public eye.
Unfortunately, not all men are honorable. Imagining Willow being exposed to this other part of my life at her age made me realize just how much she would be hurt by me if I stayed. If it wasn’t this person, I feared it would eventually be someone else that would bring to a public forum my status as the owner of Club Tower. If it were to happen, I wanted the damage to her to be minimized. Couple that with the growing desire I had for my stepdaughter, the pain I was sure to cause her if I stayed, I could no longer put my need to be close to her in front of her need to be safe. To enjoy her innocence and find a life for herself.
Because if I stay I will hurt you. And I will kill myself a thousand times before I could ever let that happen, my sweet Willow. My Caramia.
Thinking of the endearment I’d given her so long ago, a true smile lights my lips. I recall how she’s corrected me with that sweet, sassy nature. Making sure I knew that the correct Italian words were ‘cara mia’. I knew she was right, but the name I gave her was for me. A deliberate alteration of the words that represented what she meant to me.
Today, as I stand here looking into her face through my binoculars, I feel a pain like being crucified. Or redeemed. Perhaps both. Because she’s walked into my life again.
The aching I’ve pushed away for so long is balled now into a fist of iron and spears, deep in the pit of my stomach.
I want her. So strongly it’s as though she invented wanting itself.
She has brought the life back to my beast in the space of a few seconds. He roars inside of me with a vengeance and the word that has repeated itself in my head every day since I met her pound like hammers in my temples. My fear now is she will never understand. But, I will not lose her again. If it takes the rest of my life, she will understand the true meaning of that word.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Now, it’s time for my stepdaughter to meet her destiny.
Chapter Two
Will
ow
I’m not sure what started it, but in the limo ride over to the club we got into a discussion about happiness. Specifically, are we happy? Like, each of us, and what does ‘being happy’ mean, exactly, anyway?
Once we got down to it, none of us really seemed to know. The three friends I had with me couldn’t come up with anything. And the only thing I could think of after the conversation turned from existential to downright absurd was how that question actually applied to me.
The best thing I could come up with?
Meh. I’m happy.
Ish.
Happy-ish. Let’s leave it at that.
And I have left it at that. As all of us have, because we’ve all gone a bit quiet, which is leaving me looking out of the window and staring in awe at a mansion so enormous it puts Downton Abbey to shame.
Once the limo comes to a stop in front, and we have been escorted through a ten foot tall door that looks like it belongs somewhere in Mordor, the first thing I see inside has my girl parts tightening up and my head tossing up a whole stack of question marks.
“You’re going to cum for me again, aren’t you?” A man’s voice, such a deep bass that it shakes my core, coming from a frame dressed impeccably in a dark suit that isn’t quite black. He’s standing behind a gorgeous blond, his hand touching her only at her neck as her head rests back onto his shoulder. Her dress is black and white lace, an evening gown that covers everything and yet somehow seems to accentuate her sensuality.
I note the veins on the back of his hand, standing over the bones. I’m that close as we pass by that I see him squeeze. The woman’s eyes roll back in her head and I watch her shudder. And this is no ‘When Harry Met Sally’ fake-it, restaurant orgasm. The woman cums so hard she passes out and the man behind her smiles, catching her before she crumbles to the floor.
