Page 62 of His Dark Purpose

Kyle

“I’m counting, little girl!”

Kyle hollered the words from his office doorway, suppressing his chuckle as the noise of her frantic footsteps on the wood flooring traveled through the open doors.

“Five!” he cried, checking his watch.

The hand crawling toward the twelve of his expensive watch said it was almost midday, which meant they had the entire uninterrupted afternoon to play.

“Four!”

Almost six months had passed since that dreadful day Amy had been rushed to the hospital, the memory only hazy fragments his mind had subsequently stitched together, but Kyle knew one thing—that had been the day that had changed things.

“Three!”

He grinned at the countdown, conscious it wasn’t only his lips rising. Amy and the salacious things she inspired in him were still a marvel, but not a day passed when he wasn’t fucking thankful for all the joy she’d brought into his world.

“Two!”

He and his little girl had been playing their own version of hide and seek ever since she’d been well enough to, reveling in the heightened sense of suspense as she ran away to conceal herself, and he began his leisurely search of the house for her.

Naturally, she’d be wearing her kinky maid’s outfit for him, scurrying around without her underwear and trying not to giggle and give herself away. He pulled in a breath at the mental image, rearranging his swelling erection.

Best not to get ahead of himself. He still had to discover her, taking his time and enjoying the hunt. In reality, though, he’d find her relatively quickly—mainly because she adamantly refused to hide anywhere other than the same two or three places. He shook his head with a smile. It was almost as though shewantedhim to find her.

“One!” He bolted down the narrow corridor, despite his pledge to take his time, adrenaline already coursing around his system. “Ready or not, little girl… I’m coming!”

From somewhere nearby, he heard the stifled sound of her laughter, his smirk growing as he spun around to ascertain her location.

“You’d better be ready!”

He stalked toward the dining room, certain that was where she was. For better or worse, Amy seemed to like it there. Upon erotic interrogation, she’d once told him that the room reminded her of those early days when he’d had her serve him topless, so he supposed it held a special place in her heart. Reaching the entrance and scanning the space, he was inclined to agree. They had certainly had some spicy adventures there.

“I wonder where you can be?”

His voice had taken on that melodic thrum he employed when she was near, his excitement ratcheting as he edged closer to his usual spot at the enormous table. One glance was all it took to confirm his suspicions, and there, under the table on all fours, was his very own bloody gorgeous footrest. His balls ached at the sight of her, not only because she looked as hot as hell with her black skirt hiked up around her hips but because she was there, waiting for him and demonstrating her subservience.

“Found you.” His voice lowered to a silky purr as he drew his chair back to take his place. “How are you, little girl?”

She tilted her head in his direction, catching her lower lips between her white teeth. “Ready to serve you, sir.”

“Good answer.” Pulling in a breath, he lifted one foot and rested it gently on the small of her back. “That’s why you’re here.”

“Yes, sir.” She mumbled the words toward the floor, her gaze fixed between her outstretched palms.

“Furniture doesn’t talk, Amy.” He snarled the words, though there wasn’t any part of him that was really irked by her reaction. On the contrary, it was perfect.

She was perfect—and so was the new balance they’d struck since she’d come home.

Her recuperation had taken longer than he’d have liked, but he understood. Seth’s stunt had repercussions—for all of them—and when he couldn’t be there with her, he’d hired a private nurse to ensure she had everything she needed. In the end, there was nothing physically to show for that day except the small scar the side of her stomach bore, but the emotional and psychological wounds were much weightier.

They’d started with Seth.

Kyle had needed to bite his tongue many times in the beginning, listening to the younger man’s diatribe about how things weren’t his fault, but he’d tolerated it for Amy. Seth had come from her, so, he reasoned, not all of him could be bad, and the more time he’d spent with the guy, the more he’d found to like.

Seth had more initiative than his brother, and he was good with his hands, which meant he’d proved to be useful around the house. Brock Hall was huge and getting old and much of her infrastructure needed repair, so having the younger man around hadn’t been all bad. As it turned out, not only was Seth good with a toolkit, but he enjoyed the work.

Kyle had to admit, it was taxing to hand over those dangerous tools at first, especially after seeing the havoc Seth had managed to wield with only cutlery, but Amy’s son had worked hard to prove himself, and over the weeks, even he had to confess, he was starting to have faith in Seth.

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