Page 19 of Daddy, Take Me Away
Stop thinking like this, she ordered herself. Hamish wasn't her Daddy and she wasn't his Little. Not for real, anyway, no matter this game they both seemed bound and determined to play.
She knew better than this. She really honestly did.
What was wrong with her?
Daddy, that’s what, and she didn’t see this game ending anytime soon.
Chapter Ten
The bustling marina town of St. Abbs was, true to Hamish's word, like stepping back in time with just a few modern buildings interspersed among many that were turn-of-the-century, if not far, far older. All sorts of boats cluttered the marina docks, mostly fishing trolleys and a few that were recreational. Probably other tourists since nothing about the village screamed “wealthy enough to buy a yacht” at her. But the streets and buildings were well-maintained and clean, with everything freshly painted and flowers growing in window planters, especially along the three block distance that was St. Abbs’ shopping district.
Chloe hugged her wallet to her chest, staring wide-eyed out the passenger window as Hamish negotiated his Sorento through the narrow streets.
“Grocery is one block over,” he said, pointing one way, then gesturing the other direction. “That's the craft store over there. And behind that white bucket fence at the end of the street is a thrift shop. I don't know if there's anything you need, but I also don't know how long before your luggage gets here.”
Touched, she smiled at him. “Thank you. I really appreciate this, and the ride.”
He nodded. “I'll get my tire replaced and come looking for you when it's time to go.”
She was about to get out of the car when he pinned her with a stern look. “What are the rules?”
She quickly counted them off on her fingers. “No counting my money in public. Bring my purchases back to the car before heading to the next store, so you can keep track of where I am. You brought me here, and you'll take me home.”
He waited. “And?”
She blinked once, before realizing what he wanted. “Oh. I thought you were kidding about that part.”
He arched a brow. “Do I look like I'm kidding?”
No. No, he did not.
She added three more fingers to her countdown. “Look before crossing the street. Don't talk to men unless their wives are with them. And don't take candy, puppies or tacos from strangers or anyone named St. Abbs, because he’s a thief and a weirdo and you don’t trust him.”
“Or…?” he drawled.
Her face flamed. So did her bottom and not because the seat warmer was on. “Or I'll get the belt again.”
“Whose belt?”
She squirmed in her seat. “Daddy's belt.”
“And…?” He studied her through half closed eyes, waiting while her embarrassment flared hot beneath her skin.
“And ten full minutes in the corner with my bottom bare.”
“Your what?”
This was so mortifying, but she already knew what he was capable of and wasn't about to press her luck.
Her face flamed. “My naughty bottom.”
“And what else will I do to your naughty bottom if you disobey me?”
She covered her face with both hands, whispering through her fingers, “Put a buttplug inside me.”
“And?”
“And you might not wait until we're home before you do it.”
