Page 8 of Daddy, Take Me Away
Sliding into the black leather seat, she tugged her skirt down over her knees. Modesty. He liked that. He liked her pretty knees too. Not that he had any business admiring them. Or her breasts for that matter. Pert and round, they were the perfect handful. Just the way he liked them.
“Seatbelt,” he said gruffly and quickly shut the door.
He had no business comparing her to what he liked. Old soldiers, like him, with violent PTSD tendencies avoided relationships for a reason. Especially not when Littles, the most vulnerable of all submissives, were involved. He'd rather stay single than traumatize Chloe.
No. No, not Chloe. Chloe wasn't his and never would be. She lived an ocean away, but whoever he took to be his next Little girl, he didn't want to traumatize them either. Which he wasn't going to do, because he knew how dangerous he was. Relationships were out of the question for him.
Get your head on straight, Hamish, he angrily told himself. She doesn't even live in the same country.
Maybe that wouldn't make such a big difference if she lived in England or Ireland. But she didn't; she lived all the way across the pond. Long-distance relationships were hard as hell, never mind long-distance relationships between Daddies and Littles.
Haud tour whisht! What relationship? She was on vacation; he had a cottage to rent. That wasn't even remotely close to a relationship. Or at least not one that would give him leave to scold her naive irresponsibility, or haul her into his arms for a reassuring embrace when things like canceled tickets, missed flights and buses, and unreasonable Karens on planes were concerned. Or paddle her little bottom when she stepped blindly out into the street. Or kiss her senseless when she looked up at him with those big, wide, helpless eyes that begged for rescuing.
She wasn't helpless. Maybe he'd find a way to prove that to her before she went home again.
Clicking her seatbelt into place, she wiggled in excitement. And why wouldn't she? She was starting her vacation. Her first ever, he remembered her saying. He was glad for her. Especially since he was sure this drive back home was going to be pure hell for him.
Chapter Five
“I'm sorry,” Chloe said for the third time. “I'm so very, very sorry.”
Kneeling in two inches of soft mud in front of his flat front driver's side tire, Hamish studiously removed the first lugnut and didn't answer.
Fifteen minutes out of Edinborough it had started to rain. Now, forty minutes shy of home, it was pouring and he was drenched.
They both were. He'd even given her the coat he kept in the backseat of his car, for just in case purposes, but it hadn't helped much. From the waist down, her sundress was plastered to her hips and thighs, leaving even less to the imagination than before.
She had beautiful legs, slender and shapely. He loved her calves so much, in fact, that he couldn't stop glancing at them as he spun the tire iron, removing the next lugnut.
Her hips weren't bad either, rounding beneath the hem of his coat. He wasn't much of a leg man, but oh how he loved a beautiful set of hips and–oh hell, yeah–a shapely ass to go along with it.
“I'm sorry,” she said yet again, and he sighed.
Leaning back on his heels, he glared at her. “Did you flatten my tire?”
“The way everything keeps going wrong, I kinda think I might have,” she reluctantly replied. “And I mean it. I'm really so–”
“Say it again,” he cut her off, “and I will put you over my knee and paddle your bottom to a hot cherry red.”
The words were out before he could stop himself. Shit.
Blue eyes huge, Chloe stared at him in open-mouthed shock. She didn't say a word, though her cheeks blushed hot. Her hand twitched. For a moment, he thought her about to tuck a hand behind her to cover her bottom, an automatic movement that caught his Daddy Dom attention and held it fast. She didn't though. Her tense little body didn't move.
“Wh-what?” she stammered.
He stood up slowly, facing her fully, covered in mud from the knees on down. “You heard me,” he challenged.
“B-b-but… y-you…”
His deepening frown silenced her protest. “I dinnae know who in your life managed to convince you that you're responsible for all of life's woes. But I can't stand it when Little girls–” he bluntly told her, just to watch her eyes bug and her jaw drop that much further, “–apologize for no reason, and I won't put up with it for very long. You’ve already apologized to me five times for something you had nothing to do with.”
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
He arched a brow at her. “Six,” he said dryly. “You need your butt roasted so badly you're going to push me until I do it, is that it?”
No, one look at her stunned face told him that wasn't at all what she was trying to do. She was in a Little frame of mind, and from what he'd seen of her so far, he wasn't sure if she ever left it. As far as he was concerned, she wasn't thinking clearly. He also didn't know how much sleep she'd gotten on the plane. Every time he'd opened his eyes, she'd been wide awake and staring out the window, even through the black of night when nothing of the world could be seen. Not even the clouds.
“I-I–” she stammered.
