Page 105 of Trust Me Always

“But, Daddy, no.” I whine some more.

Brady chuckles again, and a small smile pulls at my lips. “Keep it up, Hellcat. I’m not above a good ass-smacking.”

“I bet you’re not,” I tease. “I bet it’s one of your favorite things in bed.”

“Wouldn’t know,” he mumbles under his breath, but then he looks up with a grin, and it makes mine grow, my head hanging to the side a bit. “This is how I thought Sunday morning last week would go, but you haven’t even been drinking and you’re puking.”

“I didn’t get sick that night.”

“I know. I was there,” he replies. “Thought for sure you’d be praying to the porcelain god by dawn.”

“Meh.” I shrug, and my eyes drink in the sight of him as he bends again, holding the nasty-ass liquid in front of my face. “I wasn’t even that drunk.”

His eyes snap up to mine, narrowing, searching. “No?”

What is it you’re looking for?

I shake my head, and he holds my stare a moment.

I pull in a lungful of air and cringe, looking at the offending liquid.

“All right.” He pushes closer. “Come on, girl. I’ve got water right here, but you need to take this, and you need to hold it down.”

I groan, about to push him away when his eyes harden.

Why is it hot?

That’s weird, right?

My mouth opens, ready for him to pour what he wishes inside.

OMG. Okay.

Do not picture his pierced dick while he’s about to slide something warm into your mouth.

Thank fuck for my fever, as I’m pretty sure my cheeks are on literal fire.

“You good?” he asks worriedly.

I nod, and he tips the cup into my mouth.

I choke down the liquid, accepting the water he offers quickly. With a groan, I swipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Why is that shit so nasty?”

He doesn’t respond, just nods, staring at my mouth, a small, almost prideful smile tugging at his lips as he processes that I did as he asked. “Okay, next is a shower. Can you stand up?”

I nod, holding my hand out, and he tows me up gently, his arm going around my back to steal a quick hug.

I close my eyes, breathing him in, but he pulls away too quickly, and my lungs feel a little shorted.

“Climb in, but don’t turn the water any hotter. You need to cool down a little.”

I don’t argue, aware I likely smell like a frat house the morning after initiation, and shrug out of my robe as the door closes behind him. My shirt is next, and since I didn’t have any panties on to begin with, I step inside.

My muscles clench, back aching at the first spray of the wateragainst my skin, but after a moment, it feels nothing short of amazing.

The sheer amount of sweat covering my body is disgusting, and I pull on all my strength to wash effectively, working on my hair last. I let the conditioner sit for a minute, then just lean my head back and let the pressure of the spray do all the work getting it out.

I climb from the shower, too weak to do much but pat at my hair and quickly dry what I can. I slip back into my robe and shuffle out.

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