Page 81 of Driftwood Daffodil 2

“Is Daddy getting mad? Does Daddy want to hurt me?”

Pushing his buttons right now probably wasn’t a good idea. I wasn’t in a hurry to get spanked again – my ass was still sore from that last time – but pain was better than the alternative.

“That’s thirty-seven.” Gio said while rounding a curve to the left.

“Thirty-seven what?”

Thirty-seven steps? Thirty-seven ways to be an asshole? There were way too many options for that statement to be clear.

“Infractions.”

Oh my god, he kept count? Seriously? “You do realize you’re eighteen, right?”

“What’s your point?”

“Eighteen-year-olds are supposed to be messy and have fun. Not be punctual and keep track of infractions. When‘s the last time you regretted life?”

His gaze shifted over his shoulder. “The day I met you.”

Okay, that was fair. But…

“If I’m your only teenage experience, then you need more help than I can give you.”

My eyes narrowed on a painting of a castle to the left. Why did that look familiar?

“I don’t think marriage constitutes as a teenage experience.”

“Uh, high school sweethearts.” I pointed out while eyeing the red rug under my feet.

That looked familiar too. So did the clock over there, and that raven statue.

Gio snorted. “High school sweethearts is a myth. The only thing high school girls are good for is a quick blowjob and easy lay.”

“Wow, I’m glad to see you set your expectations high.” I was going to have to try harder to disappoint him.

Right now I was too busy trying to figure out where I was. I knew this hallway. I’d been down here before, I just couldn’t figure out when. His father’s office was the other way so we couldn’t be going there. The only other place I’d been in this house was…

Gio reached out and turned the knob on a door as my eyes widened.

Crap. His bedroom.

This did not bode well. There were only two reason a guy would bring a girl to his room, and the first one didn’t count.

“I demand my own room.” It was worth a try.

“You don’t get to demand shit.” Gio pressed his hand on the small of my back and shoved me the room.

I stumbled forward while silently cursing myself for not seeing that coming.

When the door closed behind me, all I could think was how I missed my opportunity to push Gio off the balcony.

“You have two choices.” Gio clicked the lock in place, then turned around and nodded to the left. “Go over there and put your hands on the wall.”

It didn’t look too menacing. Other than an oak dresser, and what appeared to be a closet door, that corner was fairly bare. Actually this entire room was bare. There was furniture, bed, table, loveseat on the far wall, but it lacked the lived in look. Where were the dirty clothes on the floor, or crumpled up pieces of paper? I once found an apple core under my bed that was so old it was halfway petrified. This place was way too pristine for a teenager.

I once again eyed the navy wall Gio had indicated, then asked. “Does the other option involve messing up this room? Because I can do that.”

Give me five minutes with his laundry hamper and I could make this place look lived in.

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