by Lena Little
“Really, it’s ok.”
I watch his eyes rake over the front of the building and the surrounding exterior.
“Punch in the code, angel.”
“The code?” I question, not sure what he’s talking about.
“To the keypad,” he motions to the numerical square close to the door.
“Landlord said it’s under repair. Watch,” I say, pushing the door open which only seems to make him angrier than he already is for some reason.
He sucks in a breath and steps into my building. “Please don’t tell me you live on the first floor?”
“Second.”
He shakes his head and we ascend the short stack of stairs together.
“Keys,” he says, when we reach my front door.
“I didn’t invite you—“
“Keys,” he demands, his palm up as he shoots me a look that is, like so many things, non-negotiable.
I pull my keys from my satchel and hand them to him, still not quite sure what his deal is.
“Stay here,” he orders, why would I expect anything else.
“This is my—“
But he’s already gone, entering my tiny apartment and looking around as if he’s searching for bombs, booby traps, or a hidden intruder.
He squats down and looks under the bed.
“Where are your sheets?”
“I haven’t got around to getting any yet,” I admit, laying out some bath towels next to each other, my current substitute for a proper flat bed sheet.
“Not even one to cover yourself up?”
“It’s Miami. It’s hot.”
“You don’t run the aircon at night?”
“It’s under repair.”
I watch as his fists tighten so hard his knuckles go white and his corded forearms shake. “Does the landlord live on site?”
“No.”
“What about a phone number for him?”
“He said he prefers email.”
“He didn’t give you a phone number?”
“He said it’s a transcription service and will send him an email, so it’s easier just to email him in the first place as that’s what he’s going to get anyway.”
“How much did the company advance you?”
“It was a generous amount. Enough for—“
“How much, Scarlett?” he asks, addressing me by my name for the first time.
“Three thousand.”
“Three thousand? For Miami?”
“It covered first month’s, last month’s rent, and I negotiated down the security deposit so everything fit.”
“I’m talking to payroll first thing in the morning when we get in.”
“We?”
“Let’s go. Get your pajamas and we’re out of here.”
“Where? You can’t just take me.”
“I can and I am. My place.”
“What if I don’t want to go to—“
“Rules. Where’s the list I gave you?”
“I never agreed to—“
“Pajamas or you sleep in what you’ve got on.”
I huff, but make my way over to my duffel bag and pull out my pj’s.
As much as I don’t want him dictating how things are going to be to me right now, I also wouldn’t mind sleeping in a nicer place tonight. The noise from the street and my neighbor’s aircon, which does work, don’t exactly help when it comes time to count sheep.
We get my things and are quickly back in his Lamborghini, in which he acts like he’s trying to set the land speed record to get out of my neighborhood. Strangely, the number on the speedometer is high, but I feel completely safe. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been in an incredible automobile that handles like his does and is so smooth. When you’re used to a lack of power steering and hubcaps that scream and yell and try and fall off above about fifty-five, a Lamborghini is a life-changing eye opener at how some people live.
And if his car wasn’t enough, when we pull up to an iron gate and are allowed entry by a man in a suit, not a uniform but a suit, I realize his choice of transportation was just the beginning of the lifestyle he leads.
“Food is on the table, sir,” the gate guard says.
“Food?”
“We left the restaurant before we could eat so I went ahead and asked the chef to prepare the same dishes we’d ordered.”
“The chef?”
“Javier. Once you try his burritos you’ll never eat Chipotle again.”
“Chipotle is amazing.” I leave out the part that it’s an extreme treat for me, because of the price.
“Chipotle was amazing. You’ll see.”
“I guess so.”
“I know so.”
As we pull up to the horseshoe drive all the events of the day start to hit me and I realize that although Silas is beyond bossy, he’s doing it for my own good. Or at least what he thinks is my own good.
As much as I want to fight him I have to be honest that he’s older, more experienced, and an expert and renowned figure in the art world.
I should stop trying to mentally arm wrestle with him and allow him to take care of me, a bit. The idea of removing the responsibility of making decisions and struggling to survive is way more appealing than trying to prove I can make my own decisions.
I can, and I will, but maybe I should lean into his bossiness a bit more and see where it takes me. If nothing else he surely has connections that can help me track down my father, which is the reason I came here in the first place and something I need to get on. Time is of the essence, and it’s time to finally admit that I appreciate everything he’s doing.
“Silas,” I begin as he puts the car in park and a valet, a freaking valet at his house, comes running out. I blink a few times and shake my head at this level of opulence. Silas, on the other hand, keeps his eyes focused on me and doesn’t say anything about me addressing him by his name for the first time. It’s as if he knows what could be described as a tender moment is just around the corner and like me, he’s going to let it blossom. “Thank you for tonight. I regressed, and well you—“
And just like that he’s back to his usual self, not allowing me to finish. “You didn’t regress, you progressed.”
And as I’m starting to see his normal ways actually do more good than harm. I need to stop listening to his tone, and start listening to his words.
“Not regress, but progress. I like it.”
“I do too, because it means you’re moving forward, learning more about who you really are inside,” he says in the most tender tone he’s taken yet. His hand lifts from the stick shift and he places it just above my heart, not quite touching my clothes but making me wish he was. “And at the same time I’m learning more about how I really am inside as well.”
“You seem like you have it all figured out.”
“I thought I did too, until this.”
“How so?”
“You’ll see soon enough, little one.”
“Why not show me now?”
“Because I make the rules, remember?” He pauses, before continuing. “Your mouth’s going to get you in trouble real soon.”
“How soon?”
“Come here,” his voice like leather tipped in steel orders.
I lean over to his side of the car.
“Closer,” he says.
I feel my heart jackknife in my chest, wondering what he’s got planned. He hasn’t moved a muscle.
“Closer,” he says, “so I can finally do something about that sassy mouth.”
“What are you going to—“
And before I can say another word his lips come crashing down on mine, shutting my mouth with such a possessive force that it has my body melting into his.
7
Silas
I carry her into the house, her legs wrapped around my waist like a belt as I beeline straight to the dinner table where I sit her down on the white linen and take a forkful of ceviche spiced with ají and bring it to her lips.
“Eat,” I insist, and she doesn’t resist for one second.
“Oh my, God. This is so good.”
I stab another forkful and bring it to her lips as quickly as the first bite disappears.
But when it’s time for the third I taste what I want to taste, her lips for a second time, my tongue sliding into her mouth as she whimpers with need.
I fork a big portion and bring it to her lips and she provocatively takes it from the silverware.
Wasting no time I carry her toward her room, ready to prep her for bed.
“I want you so bad,” she confesses.
“I know, because I want it too, but the time’s not right. It needs to be special.”
“In a mansion overlooking the ocean isn’t special?”
“Not in that way.”
“What way then.”
“You’ll see.”
“Do this. Do that. You’ll see. I know everything. When do I get to make decisions for a change?”
“You don’t. Now watch your mouth little girl. It’s time to get your ready for bed.”
We arrive at the guest bedroom and I toss her on the bed, moving swiftly to the attached bathroom to see that the housekeeper did indeed draw a bath with oils and candles. She’s going to love this.
Stepping back into her room, she’s got her arms crossed over her chest and her lower lip jettisoned out.
“Let’s go. Time for a bath and then bed.”
“I don’t want a bath and I’m not tired.”
“And I don’t want to argue, or have to spank you so close to bedtime. Now let’s go.”
Her eyes light up and her back straightens, and I know I’ve woken something deep inside her.
“Read me a bedtime story.”
“Another night. You’ve had a big day and it’s time for your bath. No more questions. No more disobedience.”
I snap my fingers and point toward the tub.
She shakes her head violently. “I won’t do it.”
“You will, young lady, or I’ll have you across my knee and it won’t be three spanks this time. And it won’t just be my hand.”
She was crossing the line and she knew it, but what I knew is that this had nothing to do with the rules I’d given her. This was her challenging me. She wanted a struggle and she wanted me to win. I need to stand my ground.
“That’s it,” I huff, marching back into the bedroom and in one move grab her and flip her from vertical to horizontal, face down over my knee.
She writhes against my lap like she’s trying to get off, and I pause. “Are you being a bad and naughty girl?”
“Uh huh,” she says softly.
“I don’t believe that’s the appropriate way to address me.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she corrects and damn is it music to my ears.
“You’re Daddy’s naughty girl aren’t you?”
She nods.
“Say it,” I growl, my hand finding her ass cheek and squeezing it hard, kneading her skirt in my hand.
“I’m your naughty girl.”
My cock jerks in my pants, needing release. But my angel always comes first, in all ways.
“What am I doing to you right now?” I ask, needing to hear the words as I continue to massage her but so firmly this alone surely has her skin red already.
“You’re being naughty.”
“Describe how I’m being naughty.”
“Daddy’s…touching me.”
“And do you want Daddy to stop?”
“No, Daddy. No.”
“Then tell me what else I’m doing,” I groan as my palm turns one hundred and eight degrees and I run my finger over her clothed slit, causing her to moan.
“Daddy!”
“Tell me what I’m doing,” I grunt, my balls heavy as hell.
“You’re touching my princess parts.”
“Whose?”
“Mine, I mean…yours, Daddy.”
“That’s right,” I moan. Mine.
“And what am I doing now?”
I lift her skirt and move the polka dot cotton covering her to the side and insert a single digit into her tight hole, my eyes closing as I inhale deep, her musky scent cloaking the room.
“Uh,” she whimpers. “You’re fingering your pussy.”
“That’s not totally correct,” I say on a single, throaty exhale.
“You’re fucking me with your fingers.”
“That’s right, baby girl.”
“Harder, Daddy.”
I’m losing control fast, and everything I do is about maintaining control. But Scarlett is the first person in my life that takes my control and tries to bend it, and break it. She’s a challenge, forcing me to be the best figure in her life I can be while I demand the best out of her. But I have to stay focused and remember how we got here.
“It’s time for your punishment,” I say, pulling my digit out of her to the sound of a vacuum unsealing, a loud pop ricocheting off the walls.
“Punishment? This feels good. This doesn’t feel like punishment.”
“But I bet this does,” I add, raising my hand and bringing it down hard on her cheek, causing her hips to thrust forward into my lap even more.
She squirms, but I grab her tight, holding her in place with my other hand while I quickly unclasp my belt and whip it through the straps in one motion, like I’m pulling a sword from a sheath.
“You will learn to do as you’re told,” I discipline, bringing my belt down across her ass causing her neck to jet out and her mouth to open like a baby bird receiving food in its nest from its mother.
Control. Was. Slipping.
I grab her panties and yank them down, baring her ass to me and I bring the belt down on her again.
“Oh fuck. Don’t stop. I’ll be good. I’ll be bad. I’ll be whatever you want, Daddy. Just don’t stop.”
And for once I listen to her as if she’s giving the orders, continuing to spank her firmly, yet fairly until I feel her stomach clenching and I know she’s close to coming.
“Are you going to make a mess?”
“Yes, Daddy. Make me come,” she cries out so loud I’m sure the staff can hear it.
I grab her panties in one hand and jerk them as hard as I can, ripping them in one movement and stuffing them in her mouth.
Despite having them pulled to the side I could feel they were drenched before I inserted them in her smart little mouth.
“Please, Daddy,” she mumbles. “I wanna come.”
I stop. Everything.
“Promise Daddy you’ll be a good girl.”
“I’ll be good. I promise.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods furiously.
“Say it!”
“I’ll be good for you, Daddy,” her words clearly muffled but I can make them out.
“Good girl,” I say, a devilish smile coating my lips just before I slide my finger back in and move it out and in like a piston while I spank her in rapid succession with my other hand. “Now come for me, Scarlett. Come for Daddy.”
“Uh, uh, uh,” she whimpered through gritted teeth just before she clamps onto my digit and her body flopped like a fish out of water as she released a tidal wave of juices into my palm.
Time seems to stand still as both our chests heave, trying to catch our breath as she is strewn across my lap like one of Salvador Dali’s melting clocks in “Persistence of Memory.” Her body, completely boneless.
Finally, her pussy relinquished it’s death grip on my finger and I slid it out, carefully bringing my palm to my face where I licked it in one big stroke before taking my finger to her mouth and inserting it.
Her lips pucker as with one motion she sucks it bone dry, my cock becoming furiously jealous and I know I need to have this woman, my little girl’s lips wrapped around my dick sooner rather than later, or else I’m going to go completely nuts.
I carefully reach down and pivot her body back, bringing her onto my lap and pulling her in close. She was vu
lnerable now and I needed to let her know everything was ok.
But there was nothing to say, no words to do what just happened justice so I continue holding her, feeling her warmth and both our bodies gradually still, coming down from the high we both just experienced. Together.
“You ok, sweetheart?” I offered softly, cradling her in my arms.
She nods into my chest and in this particular instance I accept that as her answer, verbal or not.
Because she’s accepted me as her Daddy, and that meant more than words can say.
8
Scarlett
Bliss is an understatement for what I feel this morning after the office.
After getting the spanking I needed, wanted, and deserved, and the aftercare that went along with it, I fell asleep in the guest bedroom in Silas’s arms. As much as it would have been nice, he didn’t try anything sexual beyond what happened over his knee. And as much as I want our relationship to continue developing, and know that I’m ready to give myself to him, the time wasn’t right.
But the time was right for exactly everything he did.
And in regards to time, I have to get on the ball when it comes to finding out information about my dad. Silas had to go into work early so I, of course, went in with him, even though he offered to have a car take me later, but still making sure that I’d arrive by 8:00 of course.
I sit at my desk and start researching various art styles from Miami nineteen years ago, knowing my dad would have probably been creating a lot of stuff around that time. At least I hope so. I hope he was excited to be a father, despite the fact that he barely knew I existed, including not even knowing my name. And combined with the fact that I don’t even know his, that doesn’t make this any easier.
I come across a lot of samples, and when Silas shows up at my desk and asks what I’m up to, not in an accusatory way but more as someone who cares and wants to lend advice if he can, I just tell him I’m looking at inspiration.
And he tells me he has to step out for a while to go to a breakfast meeting.
He kisses me on the cheek and all those feelings of joy come rushing back, and I don’t even think twice about being bratty or stirring up any trouble. Will I in the future? Sure, more than likely. But right now everything is perfect, and I’m not going to mess it up.
