Page 32 of Bound to the Daddy

CHAPTER 11

STEPHANIE

“Thank you,” I manage to mumble.

“Don’t thank me just yet. I’m not through.”

My heart squeezes in my chest so hard spots dance before my eyes. Fuck me. It can’t get any worse… Can it?

“Next,” he continues. “You are not going to look for another job or anything of that sort until I give you permission.”

“But how am I going to pay you back?” Hysteria laces my tone as my heart picks up speed once more.

With a fierce frown, he purrs again until I’m limp in his arms once more. “And you wanted to be on the other seat while we discussed this. Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. When are you going to learn that I know best?”

“You don’t even know me.” My voice is barely a whisper, nearly inaudible over the noise in my brain.

“I know more than you think. Now then, I’m not going to even hear about you paying me back. Not with money, at least. While you’re under my roof, your payment will be me taking care of you. Every bit of you. If you are disobedient, you will be punished.”

“By spanking me?”

“Are you that anxious for another trip over my knee?” Though his eyes sparkle, there’s a darkness in his tone.

I shouldn’t want to say yes. I shouldn’t want to feel the burn, the heat of his skin against mine. Most importantly, I shouldn’t crave the silence in my mind when he does it.

“I mean… I tend to be very naughty.” Fuck me. Why did I even say that?

“In that case, I’ll keep it in mind. What I want from you right now is to give yourself space to breathe. You’ve not stopped once since your parents died. I want you to actually have a chance to be yourself, to find out what you want, and most importantly, what makes you happy.”

Stunned, I sit there, unsure of what to do with myself. When was the last time I actually had the space to just… be? However, the moment I look out the window and see the massive estate sprawling before me, my throat threatens to close up and my heart pounds in my chest.

“Easy now, Steph. Nothing will harm you here. I need you to breathe for me.” Again, I force air into my lungs despite my body wanting to reject it. “That’s a good girl. Here, I’ll do it with you.”

I shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t need this. Hell, his son is my boyfriend. If anyone should be calling me a good girl, it’s Brody. Not that he has. Not really. Honestly, I don’t even know what it would feel like coming from him.

It probably won’t make my insides clench and my pulse quicken like when Mr. Rothsbourne does it. And that’s the real problem. It’s not that I want Brody to say it. I want his daddy to say it.

He holds me close enough I can hear his heart beating slow and steady against my ear. I concentrate on that sound, that firm, steady sound, until I can finally breathe on my own again. With a shaky grin, I pull away from my new roommate and step outside the open door.

I follow him, doing my best to keep my thoughts from spiraling out of control. Through the house, not a sound breaks the spell surrounding me as we enter his office. It’s massive, filled with dark woods and navy paint. Just what I’d picture him having.

He motions to a seat across from his desk, and I sit at his silent command. All I have to do is obey him in everything, and I get the entire world? It seems far too good to be true. His lips turn down into a frown as he pulls out a notepad and a pen.

As he writes, my stomach churns. There’s something about him, something dark and dangerous as it swirls about like an invisible cloak. After a few more moments, he turns the paper to me and hands me a pen.

“One hundred times. I will always tell Daddy when I’m unable to meet his requests or tasks or need his help, even if I think I can manage it on my own.”

My eyes bulge as I look at the words on the page. “You’re joking. You have to be. Sentences? You’re really making me write sentences like I’m some little schoolgirl who got caught cheating in class?”

“If you’re more comfortable taking on the role of an errant schoolgirl, I can certainly oblige.”

“That’s not what I mean. I just… this is stupid!”

“Is it? Seems to me you have a very difficult time coming to me when you need help or accepting help that’s freely offered. That is, until it’s far too late. Perhaps if you write it enough times, it will stick. That is, unless you want to back out of our deal, and you find some other way to have a place to stay.”

“No, Daddy,” I grumble, picking up the pen.

“Oh, and Steph, I want you to write out each sentence as a whole. None of this I, I, I, will, will, will, always, always, always, nonsense. I want you to think about what you’re writing and not just put random words on the page.”

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