by Layla Frost
My eyes snapped back to his when I felt his silent laughter. It became outright laughter when I glared.
“Christ, you’re perfect,” he said, amused at my rage. “I just admitted I planned to kill my old man, and you’re concerned with my old injuries.”
“What else would I be concerned about?” I asked as my stomach loudly growled.
It was his turn to glare, looking displeased. “You haven’t been eating enough.”
I’d barely eaten for three days thanks to my churning stomach, so he was right. I climbed off him but didn’t stop talking. “You said your dad died when you were nineteen. Have you been running the resorts since?”
“Unofficially. Sal’s will had stipulations about college and age because he knew I’d try to get right to work and he didn’t want me missing out. After my father died, Ma became the legal trustee, though it was in name only. I started running things and cleaning up his mess while I got my degree.”
I didn’t bother to ask how he’d cleaned up the mess because I was certain I didn’t want those details.
Instead, I jerked my head toward the door. “Feed me, Daddy.”
Standing, his body cut and muscular and hard, he rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip. “And when I’m done, you’re gonna ride my face and feed me.”
My nipples tightened and a fresh wave of arousal rolled through me. “Deal.”
Maximo tugged on a pair of shorts, and we went to raid the kitchen. And after he fed me, we made it as far as the living room before his back was on the floor and I was riding his face.
Because a deal’s a deal.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A Good Life
Maximo
“HOW DID THAT motherfucker just disappear?” I gritted out into the phone.
“He’s always sweating,” Juliet whispered from her spot on my lap. “It probably makes him slippery.”
Christ.
Only she can make me smile when I’m pissed.
“None of his old crew has seen him,” Ash said. “Half the people we talked to thought he ran away with Shamus to get out of paying his debts. The other half thinks Shamus is dead and that whoever took Carmichael out, too.”
“Not yet,” I muttered, my gaze locked on Juliet to watch for a reaction in case she could hear him.
There was none.
My girl was good.
No, she was happy.
She’d finally given me her trust, and with it, her submission.
And, fuck, it was even better than I’d thought it would be.
Each time she gave me more of that weight she’d always shouldered, the happier she got. Smiling more. Laughing more. Touching me more.
Her walls weren’t down. They were gone.
I’d spent the first three days at home in hell, knowing she was pulling away. But the following three had been nothing but heaven.
Thinking about what Ash had said, my brows lowered. “Shamus has been… gone over a year. They haven’t seen Carmichael since?”
“No.”
Vegas wasn’t a big town. It’d take work to disappear. Connections.
“Keep asking. Someone has to know who the bastard is leeching onto.”
“Follow the trail of sweat,” Juliet whispered, again making me smile when I wanted to punch a hole in the damn wall.
“She sounds good,” Ash said.
“She is.”
His voice lowered so she couldn’t hear. “Take it that means the guest hasn’t arrived.”
My eyes stayed on Juliet, again watching for a reaction that didn’t come. “No.”
There was a hint of lightness in his tone. “Good luck.”
I’m going to need it.
“Nothing?” Juliet asked when I clicked off.
“No.”
“Damn.” She tilted her head to the side. “You, uh, handled the Sullivan’s goon. Do you think they—”
“No. He was making a mess for them, they were fine with me cleaning it.”
“Then I’m back to nothing. Maybe whoever it is will give up.”
It was doubtful, but the fact she wasn’t scared as shit showed she trusted me to take care of her.
Which was exactly what I was doing.
Even if it made her lose her shit.
I gripped her hips to stop any escape attempts. “I need you to get ready. Someone is coming over.”
“Who?”
“You remember meeting Ella Adams and her husband at the warehouse fight?”
She took a second. “The ones who sat next to us?”
“Yes. Ella’s a psychiatrist.”
Juliet’s entire body went so rigid, I worried she’d shatter in my arms. Hurt filled her eyes, shuttering the easy brightness I’d had shining on me for three days.
Her voice was soft and wounded and flat. “You do think there’s something wrong with me.”
“Never.” Cupping her face, I made her meet my eyes. “There’s not a single thing wrong with you. You’re perfect.”
“Then why do you want me to talk to a shrink?”
“You’ve been put through a lot of shit. More than you should’ve ever had to deal with.”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t doubt it. But I wouldn’t be a good Daddy if I didn’t make sure of that.”
She was quiet for a moment as she mulled it over. Reaching a decision, she slowly nodded. “I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable enough to actually talk, but I’ll meet with her.”
“Thank you.”
She moved off my lap. “But you owe me sushi for dinner.”
I grinned. “Anything you want.”
“Should’ve held out for more,” she muttered.
“What if I threw in going to a fight tonight?”
Excitement lit her face. “The warehouse?”
“Moonlight.”
Her excitement dimmed a little. “Better than nothing.”
She prefers the warehouse fights.
My girl is bloodthirsty.
Creating Juliet was the only good thing Shamus McMillon had done in his sorry excuse for a life, and that’d worked in my favor. Who I was and what I did wasn’t an adjustment for her. She was used to violence and lawlessness. And since it wasn’t directed at her, she thought it was a good life.
Starting for the hallway, she paused for a moment by the door before looking back. “I won’t tell her about how we met or any of your work stuff,” she said, again proving she was the perfect fit for me. “But should I act like we have a typical relationship?”
“Never.” She still looked unsure, so I told her, “Ella and Tony have a similar relationship, just more casual.”
Juliet worked to hide her smile. “So he’s not a control freak, got it.”
“Juliet…”
“Maximo,” she mocked as she hurried from the room.
Limited time or not, I was about to go after her when my phone rang.
Damn.
Juliet
Awkward.
Soooo awkward.
Sitting in the center of the couch, I looked across the coffee table to where Ella Adams sat in an armchair. Unlike when I’d seen her at the fight, she wasn’t glammed up in a Jessica Rabbit-esque dress. Instead, she wore simple jeans and a sleeveless blouse, looking stylishly professional.
I enviously watched as she took a drink of her giant iced coffee.
I should’ve held out for sushi and a late afternoon coffee.
She set it down on the table before smiling at me. “Awkward, right?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Right.”
“I get it. And since Maximo is like Tony but cranked up to a million, I’m betting he sprung this on you last minute and didn’t give you a choice.”
“Right again.”
“Figured.” Crossing her legs, she seemed totally at ease whereas I was tense, my legs bent up to my chest. “Maybe it’ll help if I tell you a little about me first.”
“Okay.” I was unsure anything
would help but it couldn’t get worse.
“I’ve been a psychiatrist for seven years. When I’m not working, I like to cook, garden, and chase after my two kids. Tony and I have been married for eleven years, but I’ve been his sub for thirteen. I found him and BDSM when I was this,” she held her hand up with her index finger and thumb nearly touching, “close to dropping out of med school.”
Her casual mention of being a sub was surprising. She spoke of it like it was just another fact about her, not something to hide or be ashamed of.
“Why’d you almost drop out?” I asked.
“Tony jokes that I’m not type-A, but a type-A-plus because an A isn’t good enough. And since perfection is impossible in med school, I felt like a failure and was overwhelmed. I needed an outlet, and I found it in Tony and BDSM.” She grabbed her coffee but gave me a pointed brow raise. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how freeing it is to hand your worries and stress to someone you trust to take care of them.”
Even after Maximo had become my Daddy, I’d held back so much of myself. It wasn’t until after our blowup that I allowed myself to truly trust him.
And just as Ella said, it was freeing.
“I’m starting to learn that,” I admitted.
“Good. Having someone in your corner who you can trust is important for your wellbeing.”
“Are you and Tony, uhh, that way all the time?” I asked, both because I wanted to steer the conversation away from me and because it was nice to talk to someone who understood.
Blogs and websites could only go so far.
“We are and we aren’t.” At my confused look, she explained. “Back when we started seeing each other, if I wasn’t in class or studying, I was doing whatever he said.” She gave a small smile. “Now, between work and the kids, we don’t always have time to fully sink into our roles the way we used to. But he’s still my Dom and I’m still his sub.”
Like all relationships, BDSM had a lot of variations. From what I’d read online, it seemed like most long-term ones were similar to Ella and Tony’s.
“What about you and Maximo? Are you that way all the time?” she asked.
Damn.
Since she’d been so forthcoming, I felt rude not answering. “Yes.”
“How do you feel about that?” At my hesitation, she held up her hands. “I know, typical shrink question.”
Smiling, I thought about it for a moment. Would I rather we only occasionally played roles? Would it be better if there was more flexibility? Would I be happier if our dynamic was casual?
No.
Hell no, actually.
We were all-in, and I couldn’t imagine us any other way.
So I shared a little. “Surprisingly, I love it.”
She studied me intently. “Why surprisingly?”
I shrugged, wishing I’d chosen my words more carefully. “I figured it wouldn’t do anything for me. That it was only his thing that I could accommodate for him.”
“It’s not?”
Shaking my head, I admitted, “I think I need it more than he does.”
“How so?”
“I need the care and reassurance.” I left it at that because I didn’t want to get into why I needed that so badly. How years of neglect, abuse, and being alone had left me with insecurities and doubts that were only soothed by Maximo’s brand of obsessive love.
Thankfully, she seemed to realize I was done and didn’t push.
We spent a while talking about my sewing and her gardening. By the time we were done, the awkwardness was mostly gone and it was like a visit with a new acquaintance.
When we stood, she stepped closer. “I’d like to visit again, if that’s okay with you and Maximo.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said, not as horribly against the idea as I thought I’d be.
“I’ll be in touch with Maximo to schedule it,” she said, taking the responsibility off me.
And then she left.
That wasn’t torture.
Heading upstairs, I paused in Maximo’s office doorway.
He looked up, concern etched on his handsome face. “All done?”
“For today.”
Some of the concern eased, but not all of it. “You’re going to talk to her again?”
I shrugged. “Depends on if you follow through with your end of this bargain.”
He grinned, and God, I still couldn’t believe he was mine. “Already made reservations.”
“Yay.”
“Get over here,” he ordered, pushing away from his desk. When I was within reach, he pulled me onto his lap and cupped my chin, tilting my head back. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Ella is nice, so it wasn’t too bad.”
“Good.”
It was good. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel comfortable enough to really share, but there was something reassuring about knowing I had the option.
Kissing me quickly, he held my face. “Do you feel comfortable staying the weekend at Moonlight?”
That’s why he still looks worried.
After what’d happened at Star, Maximo thought I wouldn’t feel safe. But I knew I was.
“I’m good.”
“You sure?” At my emphatic nod, he gave me a smile that sent a tremor through my body even before he said, “That’s my girl. Vera already packed your bag. Go get changed for dinner.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Earn It
Juliet
“YOU SURE YOU’LL be okay?”
Standing in the penthouse living room the next day, I looked over my shoulder to where Marco and Dan—one of Moonlight’s security guards—stood. “Yeah, I think I’m covered.”
Even with my reassurance, Maximo looked hesitant to leave. “Why don’t you come with me?”
After a phone call from his realtor, Maximo had shared he was expanding Black Resorts with a new casino. Unfortunately, he’d yet to find the right land, which was one of the usual bullshit frustrations he’d been dealing with.
The realtor had found a handful of possible locations, and as much as I loved spending time with Maximo, sitting in the hot car and touring empty lots left a lot to be desired. More than that, though, it was important for us both to see I’d be safe alone.
Well, alone minus a bodyguard, security guard, and undoubtedly someone else watching on the cameras.
“I’m fine here, I promise. I’m going to sit by the pool and read. Maybe take a spin or fifty around the lazy river.”
Maximo tugged his suit jacket on before pulling me closer. “I’ll only be a couple hours.”
“I know.”
“I can come right back if there’s an issue.”
“I know.”
“Keep your phone on you at all times.”
“I know.” At his narrowed eyes, I smiled and put my palms to his chest. “I’ll be okay.”
“I know,” he said, stealing my line. Lowering his head, he kissed me like other people weren’t in the room. “Be good.”
“Never.”
He grinned and let me go. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I watched him get into the elevator before turning around. “He’s gone. Let’s throw a rager. Hookers, blow, the whole nine.”
Dan’s eyes went comically huge, but Marco didn’t even blink as he said, “Go get changed.”
I sighed. “Party pooper.”
But I did as he said, stripping out of my sundress before pulling on my favorite feather print suit, a coverup, my aviators, and flip-flops. I got my iPad and headed for the door before backtracking to grab my new phone—Mugsy had shattered the old one.
All geared up, we went down the elevator to the main floor and out to the pool.
Marco led the way to a roped-off area that had one lounge chair, a giant umbrella, and a small table. I rolled my eyes, but truth be told, I was grateful for the seclusion.
I was okay.
I was safe.
But I was still on edge.
As soon as I sat down and got situated, my phone buzzed.
Daddy: Making sure you have your phone.
Me: You changed your contact name.
Daddy: Yes.
I shook my head but did it smiling.
Daddy: And now I’m disappointed you have it because I wanted an excuse to spank your ass raw tonight.
Me: Give me time, the afternoon is young.
Inhaling deep, I held my breath as I quickly typed out a message.
Something I’d been wanting to ask.
Something I’d been dying to try.
Something that terrified me just as much as it thrilled me—a common theme when it came to all things Maximo.
When my lungs began to burn, I exhaled as my finger hovered over the send button.
And then I pressed it.
Me: Then maybe after my ass is raw, you might want to fuck it?
Daddy: Christ.
Daddy: Jesus fucking Christ, Juliet, don’t say shit like that when I’m not there with you.
Daddy: I nearly shot my load in my pants just reading that.
I grinned, loving that I had that kind of power.
Me: It was just a thought.
Daddy: Now it’s a promise.
Daddy: Are you at the pool?
Me: Yes.
Daddy: Send me a pic.
Me: Don’t you have work to do?
Daddy: And it’s going to be frustrating, so seeing my hot as fuck little dove and thinking about fucking her tight little ass will make it better.
Well, how can I argue with that?
Going for inconspicuous, I took a quick picture. Then another quick dozen because I kept making a stupid face. I finally got a decent one and sent it just as a shadow descended over me.
I jolted, both from embarrassed guilt and being startled. When I looked up, Marco was there, holding out one of those tall, twisty cups. If he was judging my subpar selfie skills, he gave no indication.
Of that or any other human emotion.
“Is it rum?” I asked as I took the cup.
“No.”
“Ah. Vodka then.”
He shook his head and turned around to take a seat in front of me next to Dan.
My phone vibrated.
Daddy: Christ, how did I get so damn lucky?
