by Maren Smith
I had assumed tonight would be the night I got to experience the full range of his implement stash; a threat that had oft been repeated. I was surprised and a little disappointed when he went for the yard stick. Maybe this was just the opening act.
He walked behind me and tapped it against my bottom.
“You are mine,” he stated simply, cracking it against both cheeks right down the center of my ass. It hit the base of the plus sticking out between my cheeks and I gasped at the sudden shot of pain that simultaneously sent a jolt of need to my pussy.
“As mine, you submit to my rules and guidance. There are certain expectations I have for you regarding your school and health, and failure to meet these expectations results in discipline.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I squeaked, managing to gasp out the last syllable as the thin but sturdy wood cracked across my sit spot. He spanked hard and fast with a rhythm that had me reeling up onto my tiptoes and attempting to dodge the next swat. I failed. The sharp spanks took my breath away with no time to beg or plead between them. There was only the pain, Daddy’s lecture, and my submission. It continued for what felt far too long before he stopped suddenly and began to rub.
“You agreed, not too long ago, that this was the whole shebang,” he stated softly. I almost had to strain to hear.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“You now have a far better understanding of what it means to be daddy’s girl.”
“Yes, Daddy.” I was quiet for a second, contemplating whether I should say more or if he planned to. He stayed quiet, back to the somber man I had encountered at the front door, so I rushed to fill the silence. “Having a daddy means rules and spankings and not fun stuff, but it also means being taken care of, and loved and spoiled.”
“Mmmhmm.” Reed's only answer was a hum of appreciation as he caressed my achy bottom.
“And super hot sex!” I finished gleefully, trying to get him to crack a smile.
It worked. I looked over my shoulder to see him shaking his head, a smile hiding behind his smirk. “Yes, it means all of those things, little girl. Are you still on board with this?”
Before I could answer that stupid yard stick cracked heavy against my ass.
“Yes!” I hollered.
He spanked again, right on the tender crease where my bottom met my thighs. “Marry me.”
“What? What!” I choked on my scream and, rules be damned, whirled around to face him. “Did you seriously just propose while spanking my ass? Are you crazy?”
He shrugged. “I was going to ask during dinner. I even had my speech all planned out, and my arguments ready in case I needed to convince you, but I couldn't wait any longer. It just slipped out.”
“Well, what were your arguments? Because given the nature of your proposal I might need convincing.”
Reed heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Because I love you, and I love being your Daddy and you knew I was serious when we started this.”
“Yeah, okay, I love you too, and I love being yours but it's still a little fast, don’t you think?”
Reed sighed for real this time and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know and I'm sorry. Something happened today.”
I remembered the rattling doorknob and my breath hitched in my throat. “Oh my god. Did we get caught? We got caught, didn't we?” I knew it had to be true, but it made no sense. If we’d gotten caught, why was he proposing when by rights he should be breaking up with me instead? Unless… “Oh my god, did you lose your job?”
Looking grim, he nodded. “I lost my temporary position teaching political science at Ardor Beach University. They decided to offer me the position full time when they found out Professor Devlin was unable to return.”
“Oh my god!” I squealed. “Really? That's amazing!” I would have bounced in my excitement for him, but Reed held up one finger to stop me.
“That's what Dean Bryant was coming to tell me when she spotted us in a rather compromising position.”
My heart dropped to my toes. Caught by the dean herself. It didn't get much worse than that. He had lost his job for sure, and yet he’d still proposed. I was so confused.
“Reed! Daddy! You're killing me here! What happened?”
“I’m going to tell you, but first I’m going to need your answer.” Reed took my hands and pulled me into his arms. Dropping a kiss on my forehead, he asked again, “Amy Stinger, will you make me the happiest daddy on earth and marry me?”
Without the shock of it all, there really was only one answer the second time around.
“Yes, Daddy, I'll marry you.”
“Well, that's a relief. Because as the new full-time political science professor at Ardor Beach University, I'm not allowed to date my students. But my wife is allowed to take my class.”
Wife. It sounded funny to hear him say that out loud and know that he was talking about me. But if there was one thing I had learned in the past few months, it was that when life handed you exactly what you needed, you grabbed on with both hands and didn’t let go.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a little velvet box and, inside of it, a ring. It was a simple gold solitaire with a small diamond, exactly what I would have wanted. I watched, feeling a little in shock as he slipped it on my finger.
“It’s real now,” he stated, looking a bit shell-shocked himself. “We're engaged.”
As I stood staring at it, there was only one missing thing that kept this from all being perfect.
“This means you’re my Daddy forever and ever.” My voice turned sing-song as I sidled up to him to slip my arms around his waist, hugging him. “It’s also the first night of the rest of our lives, and you know what?”
A smile teased his mouth. “What?”
“You're two out of three on your Daddy duties tonight.”
“Oh, am I?” Reed cocked an eyebrow at me.
“Yep. The way I see it, you’ve spanked.” I reached back to rub my achy backside and was rewarded by the slow growth of his smile, the spark of hunger that ignited in his eyes, and the press of his growing erection against my abdomen as his hands moved down to ‘help’ me caress away the delicious, lingering hurt.
“You've spoiled,” I waved my hand in front of me to indicate my new ring. “So, where’s my hot sex, buster?”
Reed roared with laughter. “How could I have forgotten?” Scooping me into his arms, he carried me out of the study, down the hall, and toward the bedroom. “We’d best rectify that right now.”
He shut the door with his hip and tossed me onto his bed. “I wouldn't want to be slacking on my Daddy duties on the first night of the rest of our lives.”
Opening my arms, I welcomed him into them… and into me… and for all that I had been so sure that a real-life Daddy was something I would never want or need, I’m happy to say my professor Daddy just as happily proved me wrong.
Especially in the bedroom.
The End
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Delta James
About the Author
Sinfully sultry romance - that's the world that International and US Best Selling Author Delta James creates and shares with her readers. A world where alpha heroes find real love with feisty heroines, true love conquers all and good triumphs over evil! Delta's stories are filled with erotic encounters of romance and discipline. One reader suggested it was best to have a “fan and a glass of water” when reading Delta's stories.
Delta specializes in paranormal, dark and contemporary western erotic romance. She is always happy to hear from her readers and responds personally. She can be reached via email, or her FB page, or via her FB private reader group, Delta's Wayward Pack.
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Copyright © 2020 by Delta James and Red Hot Romance, Inc.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, locales, and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, and events are purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Sage
They were back in the beach cottage in Monaco. There were no more kidnappers or assassins… just Melinda in a summery dress outside the glittering international Mecca known as Monte Carlo. Roark Samuels had killed the two assassins sent to kill the beautiful heiress earlier in the day. It was time she learned the consequences of not following orders… specifically his. Roark grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her over his muscular thighs. He pinned her in place with one hand pressing her shoulder blades down and using the other to ruck up the light, flimsy summer frock she was wearing. Roark caressed her shapely, ivory bottom.
Raising his hand, he brought it crashing down on her upturned backside. Melinda yowled and cursed at him, but Roark was enjoying what he was quite certain was some long overdue punishment for her actions. Over and over he spanked her rapidly-coloring globes. He could feel her cool skin beginning to heat from his harsh strikes.
“Such a pretty bottom. Shame it has to get turned a bright shade of red because you couldn’t do what you’re told. When I get done with your spanking, it’s going to feel really good when I’m pumping my hips into it as I give you a good, hard fucking.”
“Roark, you bastard, let me go!” she cried.
“Now, now, Melinda. Good girls accept their punishment when they’ve been naughty. You running away from home, then getting us into this situation definitely qualifies as naughty.”
With that admonishment, Roark continued to inflict a considerable amount of pain across her derriere. Silence, except for the sound of his hand spanking her ass and the constant roar of the surf outside, filled the room. The longer and harder he spanked her, the stiffer his cock became. Melinda needed this spanking almost as much as he needed to give it to her.
“You think you can apologize to me and behave yourself?” he asked.
“Yes, please stop, Roark. I’m sorry.”
The sound of her submission to his authority was clear to both of them by the tone of her voice. Roark patted her globes with what passed for affection from him and his acceptance of her capitulation to his dominance. When she tried to rise, he fisted her hair, dragging her up and bending her over the end of the bed he’d been sitting on. Without another word, he unfastened his jeans and allowed his cock to jut away from his groin through the open fly. He stepped behind her, spreading her legs.
Roark guided his cock to her sheath before thrusting forward ferociously, forcing himself deep within her core and extracting a powerful climax from her. He grunted with satisfaction, gripping her hip with one hand and sliding the other, the one that had been on her neck, to the top of her shoulder to hold her in place as he began to take long, deep strokes.
Each time he drew back, the loss of being buried in her wet heat made him crave plunging back into her depths. Each time he drove forward, he swore the head of his shaft rammed her cervix. There was no escape for her from his relentless thrusting. He needed her to understand that he was the one doing the fucking and she was the one being fucked. All she could do was submit to his rough claiming, agreeing without words, to his authority and dominant possession.
Roark’s cock stroked her over and over as he grunted and groaned in a kind of feral and primal satisfaction.
Without warning, her entire body convulsed, her pussy contracting all along his length, pulsing in the same rhythm that he plunged in and out of her. He could feel she was being pushed to the edge. He was forcing her to accept pleasure from him in the same way he had forced her obedience. She winced each time his rough jeans slammed into her heated backside as his cock scraped her inner walls.
Thrusting in and out of her, he roared, “Now!”
She screamed his name as he forced her into the abyss of ecstasy. He thrust into her three more times before his cock erupted, emptying his essence deep inside her. When he was finished, he withdrew; his cock covered with their comingled response to his possession and dripping the last remnants of his seed.
Jesus, Roark, you’re such a bastard! Sage Matthews laughed, taking a sip of Diet Coke and popping a piece of caramel corn in her mouth.
Roark Samuels was the romantic hero of Sage’s wildly popular romantic suspense series. The first novel had been meant to be a stand-alone. When it shot to the top of all the best seller lists, her publisher, Gail Vincent, demanded she make it into a series. Now her fans wouldn’t allow her to end it.
Roark had started off as a fairly typical romantic hero, but from the beginning she’d had trouble keeping him from going dark and just a little bit kinky. The sex became more graphic in the second novel, which outsold the first by almost two to one. By the fourth novel, he had begun spanking his heroine of the month and incorporating other elements of dominance and submission. Each novel did better than the ones before it so her publisher insisted she continue to write them.
Sage had to admit in the beginning they had been fun to write, but more and more she longed to do something else—paranormal, cowboy, romantic comedy. Anything other than just what she felt had become formulaic. But the money was too good to walk away from.
She often remarked that she spent more time with Roark than with anyone. The cross-over success of the novels wasn’t all sunshine and lollipops. The better they sold, the higher the demand, which had taken its toll on her personal life. Her fiancé had broken off their engagement, she had been asked to leave her day job as a paralegal for a conservative D.C. law firm, and she’d gained twenty pounds. Her author persona had become far removed from who she was, but it not only paid the bills, it had allowed her to become a full-time author and buy a rambling mansion on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. She was seen as a hard-driving, dominant woman who lived alone and liked it that way. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
Sage’s cell phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID. She sighed. It was Gail and Sage knew if she ignored her, Gail would just call back.
“Well?” Gail said without preliminaries.
“I’m almost done. Just wrote the last sex scene. I need to do a wrap up where he hands the heiress off to her wimpy fiancé and she longingly watches him walk off into the sunset. It should be done before the end of the day.” Taking a deep breath, she continued. “This is the last Roark Samuels novel… at least for a while. I thought I’d take a little vacation and start a new paranormal series.”
“You live at the beach. How much more vacation do you need? As for that silly werewolf idea…”
“Not werewolves, wolf-shifters…” she said, enthusiastic to share the idea. “There’s no tortured transition into some grotesque, misbegotten shape, just one minute you’re human and the next a wolf…”
“Whatever. Roark Samuels sells. You can do a vanity project next year.”
“It’s not a vanity project, Gail. I need to grow as an author, to hone my craft—”
“For Christ’s sake, Sage, Roark pays the bills.”
“The books are predictable. All that changes are the names and the locales.”
“People like predictable. They know what to expect from you. It can’t be that taxing. Hell, Sage, anyone could write them. It’s not like you’re ever going to be the next Nora Roberts. You simply don’t have that kind of talent.”
They had this argument each time Sage neared the completion of a novel. In the end, she always capitulated and did what Gail wanted. After all, without Gail she would never have had a career, something Gail always reminded her of.
“Look, sweetie,” continued Gail. “I know I’ve been a tough task master of late, but I’m having to work hard, too, on your behalf, and you don’t want to let your fans down. They’d be so disappointed
if you retired Roark. And what would everyone say if your next novel failed? You don’t want them to say you’re just a one trick pony.”
“But I am…”
“But then you don’t know that for sure unless you write something new and different and it falls flat on its face. I’ve worked so hard to put you and Roark on the map and in everyone’s Kindle. Come on, you can do a couple of more before the end of the year, don’t you think? I’ll tell you what, why don’t you finish the next two, and then you and I will sneak away for a long weekend in London.”
“Let me guess, about the same time as that London book signing?”
“It would allow you to write off all the expenses of our trip. Come on, we’ll have fun and I’ll make all the arrangements.”
Sage knew that Gail meant she’d book them first-class on the plane, staying in the best hotel and allowing Sage to pick up the entire cost of the trip. She also knew it was pointless to argue with Gail. While her public might think of her as tough and in charge of her own life, Gail knew different and knew just how to get what she wanted.
“I guess that would be nice. Could we stay at the Savoy?”
“The event is at the Four Seasons. It would be more convenient to be there, and I prefer it.”
“What if you stay there and then I can come and go in a Rolls Royce limo? You could set it up so I make a grand entrance and you could control access to me. Besides, Roark lives at the Savoy. They’ve always said they’d give me a discount…”
“Hmm… and maybe we could have a small gathering there for industry people. Not a bad idea, Sage. Leave it all to me. And don’t bother packing anything except the outfits we bought together for your signings. I’ll whip up to New York and get you something for the plane—coming and going.”
“Don’t you think I should go? I’ve gained a little weight since Derek and I split up.”
