by Jane Henry
I wanted him to take me. My panties dampened at the memory of the spanking he’d given me earlier that day, my ass still sore from the bites of the bath brush, and my pussy throbbed at the memory of his hand between my legs.
He was keeping himself at bay.
I needed to let the beast out. He would not hurt me. I was tired of him playing nicely.
“I am ready,” I said. “I was starving, and the lobster was exquisite, but I can’t wait to see what your staff does with dessert.”
“I’m glad,” he replied, but offered no further explanation. The wait staff came then, bearing trays of food that looked fit to be served to kings and queens. Puffs of golden pastry teeming with rich, creamy filling sat beside thick slices of layered chocolate cake, decorated with dark red raspberries and billows of whipped cream. Despite having eaten the appetizers and main course like I was a starving waif in a third world country, my stomach growled at the sight of the dessert.
“Holy…oh my…yum,” I finished lamely.
He chuckled, then, a low, rumbling sound that made me shiver in delight. He didn’t smile or laugh enough. It seemed I brought it out in him.
“Thank you,” he said to his wait staff, taking the tray and placing it far out of my reach. What the hell? He waited until we were alone again in the room before taking an empty glass dessert dish from the center of the table and waving a fork at the desserts. “Are you a good girl, Annabelle?”
I swallowed, and licked my lips. I would play along. “Why, yes, sir, I am,” I said, sitting up straight with my hands in my lap like good girls should. “May I…have dessert, please?”
“Please, what?” he asked, fork poised, his stern look skewering me in place.
I swallowed and pushed my thighs together. “Please, Daddy,” I whispered.
With a nod, he pointed back to the desserts, and I realized he was asking which I preferred. “Chocolate, please,” I whispered. He pushed it onto my plate and handed it to me.
“Enjoy, sweetheart,” he said, getting to his feet. I blinked, startled. Where was he going? I didn’t want him to leave. I needed him here with me.
“Why — where are you…” My voice trailed off, but he came to me and leaned over, kissing my cheek.
“I need to consult with Worthington on a few matters, Annabelle,” he said. “Enjoy your dessert. In a little while, we’ll leave for Paris.”
I could barely contain my excitement, bouncing a bit in my seat as I sat on my hands to prevent them from clapping like a child.
“Should I go dressed as I am?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, honey. Before we go, you’ll dress in your pajamas, so you’re comfortable. Okay?”
I smiled. “Yes, Daddy.”
There were as many soft, plush pajamas in my drawer as there were dresses on the rack. Oh, God. This was amazing. As I pulled out a little pink pair of shorts with a tank top, I bit my lip, pushing aside the other clothes. I wondered if he’d put anything skimpy or skanky in there. I couldn’t help but ponder what it would feel like wearing a luxurious silk teddy or a lace-topped babydoll. But no, there was nothing here but comfy, soft pajamas. They were neither old ladyish nor babyish, but rather classy and comfortable.
At home, I wore thrift store t-shirts and shorts to bed on warm nights, and I alternated two simple warmer pajamas for cold nights. I got by with a minimal wardrobe by washing clothes frequently and putting them out on the line to dry. It saved on electricity that way. I frowned, looking at the extravagant array in front of me. This was amazing, and I could have paid for my first year of college for the cost of this simple wardrobe alone. With that thought at the forefront of my mind, I chose the pale pink pair of shorts with a matching tank top, then slipped on a pair of flip-flops that were in the closet. I looked around for a bag to pack my things in, but no matter how hard I looked, none could be found.
“Missing something?”
I jumped. “Don’t you ever knock?
“Door was open, Annabelle,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “And is that how you talk to me?” He raised a questioning brow and I shook my head, the responding thump of my heart in tune with the thrumming between my thighs. Damn, he had my number.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just looking through my things here…or, rather, I should say…these borrowed things here…and I’m a bit disturbed by how extravagant this all is.”
He frowned a bit but didn’t say a word. I went on. “And I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to…repay you,” I finished lamely.
“We have an agreement, and I’ll not ask more than what we’ve agreed upon.” He looked almost hurt and angry at the same time. My cheeks flushed in shame.
“Mist— I mean, Sawyer, really, I…I didn’t mean to imply that you’re buying my favors or anything, I just don’t know—”
“Annabelle, enough.” His clipped tone arrested my speech. A beat passed between us, and then he took his hand out of his pocket, crooked a finger at me, and beckoned me to come to him. Dragging my feet across the plush carpet — wondering, wishing for, and dreading the possibility of a spanking — I went to him. When I stood a foot away, he leaned over, his massive frame taking up the doorway, needing to stoop just to reach my eye level. “I bought these things because I wanted to and because I could. I did not want you to feel uncomfortable. I merely meant to provide for a need a woman in your position has. Is that clear?” The gentle tip of his fingertip lifted my chin so that my eyes met his. My tummy flipped. His voice was soft yet firm when he spoke, his eyes earnest and wide as he gazed at me, his voice scolding. “What did I say about questioning me?”
I swallowed. “You said not to.”
He nodded, his lips thinned, eyes still on me. “Are you questioning me now?”
I shook my head. “No, sir.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Very good. Now come with me. We have a bit of time before our jet leaves after all, and there’s something I need to show you.”
Holding his hand, the feel of his rougher, warm hand completely engulfing mine welcome and tender, I followed him. We left the dining room and went down a hall I’d not seen before, a long hall that smelled faintly musty, as if no one had been here in decades.
“Where are we going?” I said, my voice just a whisper, as I felt the moment required reverence.
“Shhh, baby.”
Down the hall we went, until I saw a faint yellow light ahead of me, spilling onto the thick carpet. An arched doorway awaited us, and his steps slowed. My neck prickled with curiosity, and I shivered. He pulled me closer as if to warm me. Faint strands of music wafted through the doorway.
“This was a very special place when I was a little boy. I was never allowed to go here unaccompanied, and only then on very special occasions. My father spared no expense, but it is so vast and opulent, I rarely go myself now. I had my staff prepare it for us, though, and now I’d like to show you to the ballroom.”
I felt like a child on Christmas morning, eager with anticipation, excitement weaving through my limbs as he placed his hand on the small of my back, and with his other hand, pushed the door to the ballroom open. He led the way, and when I stepped into the room, I felt my jaw drop open.
“Ohhh,” I breathed, as I spun slowly around, taking it all in as best I could. “Oh, this is magical,” I whispered. The room was elaborately decorated in burgundy, gold, and blue, lit with glowing candelabras. In one corner stood a magnificent grand piano, gleaming obsidian black, the keys stark white below the glow of the lights. Music filtered in through hidden overhead speakers. Huge, oval paintings hung on the walls, and it was easy to imagine this magnificent place filled with guests, dancing in time to live music.
“You like it,” he whispered.
“Daddy, I love it. I feel like a princess.”
He grinned that rare grin that made his eyes crinkle around the edges, and his whole face light up. He extended a hand to me and I gratefully accepted it. “May I?”
“Just follow my lead.”
And then we danced, and he was right...all I had to do was follow his lead. He took care of me. His steps were expert, his touch gentle but firm, and I was touched by the intimacy of being held by him like this, moved to near tears at the surreal moment that didn’t seem to belong to me, Annabelle Symphony, the plain, poor schoolgirl who had nothing to her name.
It was magical.
We danced through two songs like that until finally, he pulled me to his chest and whispered in my ear. “It’s time to go.”
“So soon?” I sighed.
“I’ll bring you back,” he said. “I promise.”
“But I haven’t packed a bag —” I began.
He took my hand in his. “I had Millie pack your bag while we ate. Grab your phone and your bag and whatever other girl shit you need, and let’s go.”
Stifling a giggle, my nerves raw and bubbly from the alcohol and his presence, I grabbed my things then joined him… on a private jet to Paris.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sawyer
She sat next to me on the jet, looking tired but curious, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly parted.
“Do you just…jet around the country like this?” she asked, then, realizing what she’d said, she clapped a hand on her mouth as laughter bubbled up. She’d had more wine than I’d ever seen her have before.
Who knew she was a light weight?
She was an adorable drunk.
“Shh,” I said. “Let’s be quiet for a bit. We have a whole seven-hour flight ahead of us.”
“Sleep?” she said, standing and looking out the window at the clouds below our window. “You want me to sleep? I’m standing in the middle of a bedroom in a jet in the air.” She turned to look at me, and waved a hand at the large, king-sized bed next to the end table, and a small armchair. I’d had my jet outfitted for long flights, and I had no regrets. It was extravagant, yes, but it allowed me to sleep comfortably while airborne, and I fully planned on her getting her rest as well.
That was, until she decided to play her next move.
She sidled over to me and knocked against my knee. “Mister Gryffin?”
I growled. I was Sawyer, or Daddy to her, and occasionally Sir.
“I really want to kiss you,” she said softly. “Up here, in the air, in this private bedroom jet thing which is the most amazing-freaking-thing I have ever seen in my life.” We hit a patch of turbulence, and it didn’t help that she’d been drinking. She wobbled on her feet and my hands instinctively encircled her waist, anchoring her to me.
“You’re drunk, little girl,” I began, regretting having allowed as much as wine as I had. I’d no idea it would affect her like this. “Honestly, you need some sleep, and I’m not going to --”
I would not, could not take advantage of her naiveté and innocence.
“Noooo,” she moaned, her lower lip protruding as she pouted. It appeared she’d lost a bit of her reserve with all that wine. Fuck. How was I going to resist her? “I … I really don’t care,” she said. “This is the stuff dreams are made of. I’ll never have this again. I just want —”
Another bounce of turbulence hit and she flailed a bit. Holding her in my arms, I drew her belly-down over my lap. She squealed and her little hand shot back as if to block me, but I held fast, tugging down the sweet cotton pajama shorts and smacking her rounded ass before I could think this through.
“Enough talking back,” I chided her, but when she wiggled her little ass at me, I lost my mind. I smacked her again, spanking with sharp swats that took her breath away. “You’ve talked back to me, told me no, and given me attitude since we left,” I said. “I don’t care if you’re drunk. I know exactly how to sober you up.” I spanked her until her ass was a bright cherry red.
“Okay!” She shouted, but that wasn’t good enough. I smacked her again. “Okay, Daddy!”
I paused with my hand on her warmed ass and gently rubbed out the sting. “You are a naughty girl, talking back to Daddy,” I said to her.
She swallowed and gulped, nodding her head. “Yes, Daddy. I’m so sorry!”
“Ahh,” I said, my cock straining for release, pushing up against her belly. “Good girl.”
She opened her legs then, just a slight part that made my mouth dry. She wore no panties, her pussy shaved bare, and her thighs glistened. I trailed my fingers along the hot edge of her skin, gently dipping downward, so gently that she shuddered at my touch. “Is that good, little girl?” I asked her. I wanted to lay her down on my bed so badly I could hardly see straight. “Is that what you want from Daddy, little one?”
I drew my fingers through her damp folds as she wiggled against me, eager for my touch.
“Come here, baby,” I said, turning her around on my lap so that she faced me. “That’s a very good girl for daddy.” I cradled her in my arms. Tomorrow, she’d sober, and she’d feel the spanking even then. Would she remember what she’d done? I leaned down and took her mouth with mine, unable to stop myself from claiming the lips of the beautiful, infuriating women I’d just punished. Her back arched and her hands looped around my neck as she kissed me back, eager and receptive, our lips entwined in a lover’s kiss.
I never should have kissed her. I could’ve kept my distance if I hadn’t.
But now that I had, she was mine, and I needed her in every way possible.
Pulling her mouth off mine just long enough to whisper a plea, she begged me. “Take me, Sawyer. Right here on this bed.”
“God,” I groaned, my forehead falling to hers. “I can’t. You’re a virgin, baby. You’re —”
“You’ve spanked me, kissed me, and made me come,” she said, her eyes alight with passion. “And now I’m begging you. Please.”
“Is this the wine talking?” I whispered.
“Sawyer,” she whispered back. “I was sober after the first spank.”
Chuckling, I tossed her on the bed and stood over her, loosening my tie and watching her, all beauty and legs and curves, her tousled hair, her eyes tired but eager.
“You want Daddy to eat you out?” I rasped, wanting nothing more than to take her pussy with my tongue until she screamed my name.
She swallowed. “Oh God,” she said, closing her eyes and licking her lips, her cheeks flushed bright pink. Her voice was husky when she managed to croak out, “I want it all.”
I slipped out of my suit jacket and tossed it on a chair, then undid my shoes and lined them up against the wall. Next, I began to unbutton my shirt. Her eager, greedy eyes watched me, drinking me in.
I glanced at the door, hit the button that said do not disturb, and the lights dimmed. I’d set this up so I could sleep, and I was only to be disturbed under extreme circumstances. Given that I had a woman in the back of this jet — the first woman I’d ever taken on board — I assumed my staff would know better than to disturb me.
“You making sure no one comes in?” she asked, as she pushed herself up to sitting on the bed.
“Yeah, honey,” I said.
Her eyes darted from side to side and her chest rose. She clutched the sheets in her hands.
I sat on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but my slacks, as her eyes roamed over my bare chest.
“You’re amazing,” she whispered.
I smiled at her. God, it felt so fucking good to smile at someone. How long had it been since I’d locked myself up in my proverbial tower, away from light and love and all things good? How long had it been since I’d enjoyed myself, actually looked forward to doing more than padding my bank account and closing a sale?
Too. Fucking. Long.
“Come here,” I commanded, not recognizing my own husky voice in the small, quiet interior of the cabin.
Her eyes never left mine as she turned over and got on her hands and knees and crawled to me.
The sight of her on all fours com
ing across the bed to me made my cock harden, my stomach flip, and adrenaline surge through my veins. The vision of her tied up, hands over her head in helpless restraints, while I had my way with her flashed through my mind.
I’d have to remember that.
“Good girl,” I said, reaching for her as soon as she was close enough to me, pulling her into my lap at the same time as I kissed her. “Never in my life has anyone told me I’m amazing. Why would you say such a thing?”
Her eyes closed momentarily before opening again, a quick glance at me before she looked away shyly. “So many things,” she said. “I…at first, you frightened me. And honestly, Sawyer, you still sort of do. I mean, it’s hot as hell being dominated by you, but it’s also scary and I think…” She bit her lip. I reached to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“Go on.”
“I think that it’s the scary part that makes it so hot. Not knowing exactly what will happen. Knowing you’re the kind of guy who could hurt me…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes dropped as she finished in a whisper, “But won’t.”
Never. I’d kill anyone who hurt her, and cut off my own hand before I ever allowed myself to do the same.
I’d spank her ass. I’d bring her to heights she’d never known. And I needed the control. I had to have it, like trees need sunlight or plants need water. But hurt her? Never.
“I wouldn’t. Not ever.”
“I know it,” she whispered. “But it’s more than that. You’re…strong. And powerful. When I’m with you, I feel safe.” She lightly touched the bandage on my side. “You rescued me. And I feel that there’s an honesty about you I never really quite found anywhere else. I didn’t even know I was looking for it. But there’s no pretense, no pretending to be someone you’re not. You can be an asshole, and you know it.”
