Page 71 of Punish Me, Daddy

Like something I was dangerously close towanting.

No.

I had to get a grip. I had let him take the upper hand. Fine. I had let him think that I’d fallen in line, but I wasn’t going to becomehis.I was going to outsmart him, no matter how hard he spanked me, because no matter how good it felt to be touched like this, to be held like this, to be wanted in ways no one’s ever wanted me before…

I wasn’t going to just let this man kidnap me and force me into marriage like I was simply a possession he’d won with patience and punishment and the code to my front door.

I was going to fight back when he least expected it. I’d let him think that I was the perfect little thing he’d molded with his hands and his rules and countless trips over his knee.

And then I’d burn it all down with a smile.

Just like I always did.

He cleared his throat, and I shifted, glancing up at his face and meeting his gaze with newfound confidence.

“Let’s talk about how this week is going to go.”

I nodded. Soft. Obedient. Like a good girl in his lap, wearing his dress, smelling like his touch, legs sore from grinding out an orgasm like a fucking horny slut on his thigh.

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth and gave him my most innocent look. The one I’d used on security guards, judges, and my father when I came home at four a.m. reeking of booze and mischief. It always worked, and he bought it, too.

His hand ran up and down my spine, lazy and warm, like he was rewarding me just for sitting still.

“You’ll stay here until the ceremony,” he began, voice calm. “No leaving the penthouse without me. You’ll go gown shopping with my security and some people I choose, and I’ll have someone bring in options for the reception.”

My stomach contracted.

Reception. Like this was a real wedding and we were inviting people. Like there would be toasts and champagne and vows that actually meant something.

“You’ll have a quiet breakfast with your father on Tuesday,” he continued. “Just the two of you. Private. He insisted.”

He insisted.

Of course he did.

I smiled again. It was a little thinner this time, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I want you to be well rested, well fed, and calm. That means no phone, no wandering the building, and no acting out.”

He tilted my chin up with two fingers, watching my eyes carefully.

“You can be a brat in my bed, Sloane,” he said softly. “But not in my world.”

I nodded, hitching my breath just a little, on purpose.

“Yes, Daddy,” I lied.

He kissed my forehead like I’d said something sweet.

But inside, my brain was screaming.

No phone. No wandering. No escape. The walls were closing in, and he was dressing it up in candlelight and silk, like I should be grateful for the gilded cage he was placing around me, one soft word at a time.

I kept my expression blank, content, but inside, I was already drafting a message in my head.

Ghost. I need out. No trace. No noise. Full wipe. One shot. You in?

I’d never used those words with him before, but I knew what they meant.

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