Page 37 of Papa's Captive
Chapter 17
Rosie peered at Papa across the breakfast table, admiring how handsome he looked this morning. Her heart warmed when he offered her a saucy smile as their eyes collided. She was glad he was in better spirits after the heart wrenching truth he’d confided to her about his mother recently. But he seemed eager to move on from the sad topic and she wished to help him forget the dark memories the walk in the gardens had conjured in any way she could. If Papa was going to tease her during breakfast, she would just as eagerly play along.
As she held his gaze, he waggled his eyebrows at her, clearly a promise of soon to be enjoyed carnal activities. She returned his grin and even went so far as to lick the butter off her toast in a most seductive manner, despite knowing a servant was standing behind her. This caused Papa to nearly choke on his food. Once he got himself under control and ordered the concerned servant from the room, he gave her a scolding look that made heat pulse and gather in waves between her thighs.
Indeed, she was truly happy to see him in such a cheerful disposition today, particularly after all she had recently learned about his past. Given his typically upbeat and exciting personality, she had assumed he’d had the most carefree of childhoods, but oh how wrong she had been on that subject. One could argue he had as much darkness in his past as she did.
Several days had passed since their walk in the gardens and Papa’s shocking confession, and she was pleased her questions hadn’t put a permanent damper on their month long stay in the castle. Her heart ached for his experiences as a child. Losing her parents when she was nineteen had been horrendously difficult. It had nearly broken her. But Papa had lost his dear mother when he was but a child, and his father had been distant and cold in the aftermath of the tragedy.
They had each other now, she thought with a warm feeling moving through her chest. Except...how long would they have each other? Eventually, they would return to London. After that, it wouldn’t be long until Papa discovered her secrets. Thetonhad gossiped about his mother’s suicide. Papa had confided this in her. But years had passed and no one gossiped about it anymore, and although years had passed since her father’s trial and execution, she knew deep in her heart that all of London would still treat her as an outcast. And her family shame would tarnish Papa’s good name forever.
What would happen then?
Would Papa ever forgive her?
She couldn’t help but worry that he would cast her aside in his shock and disappointment over her secrets in combination with the embarrassing truth of her family’s past. By not telling him of her family history, it was just as bad as lying. Mayhap even worse.
My father was found guilty of treason and sentenced to death two years ago!
How would Papa have reacted if she’d shouted this as he whisked her away from Talcott House? She would never know, because she’d held her tongue like a coward.
Stop it, she chided herself.What’s done is done. For better or worse, you’re Lady Caldwell now.
One look into Papa’s loving eyes and her worries faded. He had that kind of effect on her. A single gentle touch or a knowing glance and all her anxieties vanished in the wake of his expressive love.
He reached across the table and grasped her hand. Giving it a squeeze, he said, “I ought to carry you upstairs, put you over my knee, and spank you soundly for your unladylike table manners.”
Rosie glanced at the half eaten toast on her plate and flushed. Desire quickened in her core and she couldn’t help but wiggle in her seat, enjoying the feel of her thighs pressing tight together while she squirmed and Papa continued staring at her with a most stern look.
“Please, Papa,” she said, playing along. “I-I promise to be a good girl. I don't want a spanking.”Yes, I do.
And that wasn’t all she wanted.
Her breath came in short gasps as Papa released her hand and strode around the table to assist her from her seat. He pulled the chair back and lifted her up, then guided her from the breakfast room with a firm hand clasped around her upper arm. She shuddered, feeling like a naughty little girl being led away for a spanking.
Once they reached his bedchamber, he locked the door behind them and gave her a sharp swat on her bottom. She gasped and turned around, rubbing her behind as she gave him her best pout.
“Ouch, Papa. That hurt.”
“It’s going to hurt a lot more by the time I’m through with you, little girl. If I must be strict with you to ensure you display better manners in the future, I will not hesitate. It is a Papa’s duty to guide his little girl and chastise her when necessary.” He gathered her close and kissed her soundly, taking her breath away as his firm body pressed to hers. In mere moments, she detected the growing hardness in his trousers.
Papa was getting excited. Heat quaked between her legs. She hoped he stripped her clothes off and made love to her soon. She burned with need, helpless against the lust sweeping through her and heating her blood. Sometimes when Papa made love to her, he was gentle, other times, so rough she was sore for days afterward.
She secretly hoped he was rough with her now. She wanted it. Craved it beyond all reason, needed to feel the brutal passion of his love to help her forget that their time at Craigmul Castle would eventually draw to an end. She wanted the bold daring Lord Caldwell who had kidnapped her from Talcott House to make love to her now.
For him to own her. To possess her. To mark her with the evidence of his passion. She wanted fingermarks left on her hips from his grasping ahold of her while he pounded into her, and even marks on her bottom from a long, hard spanking when he disciplined her. Her heart raced. Did he really plan to spank her for her unladylike behavior with the toast? If so, she hoped he spanked her before he sank his cock into her kitty, just so she could feel the soreness of the punishment on her behind cheeks while she writhed on the bed underneath his firm, muscular body while he took what belonged to him.
When he finally broke their kiss, she gasped for air and stared up at him, lost in his dark eyes, as well as the wicked thoughts that were flitting through her mind, musings that far surpassed any of the love scenes she’d memorized from Miss Wickersham’s romance novels. Perhaps someone ought to write a love story where the hero scolded and spanked his wayward wife for disobeying him, then made hard and passionate love to her. Mayhap she ought to take pen to paper and write down some of her naughty ideas. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning at the thought, lest Papa demand to know what she was thinking about.
“Come, I have something to show you.” His eyes darkened further and he grasped her hand, leading her to the foot of the bed. He released her and flipped open a trunk and extracted a wooden box.
Rosie’s stomach dropped, but she soon realized it wasn’t the box she’d hidden away. This box was larger and painted a vibrant shade of red. She wondered what could be inside. Jewelry? Some sort of gift? She eagerly waited for Papa to open it.
He flipped the lid up and revealed four phallus shaped objects in varying sizes. The largest one was nearly as big as his cock. She flushed and wondered why and where he’d obtained this box. In addition to the phalluses, there was a jar that contained some sort of clear substance, perhaps a medicinal salve of some kind.
“Papa,” she said, surprise evident in her tone, “why do you have a box filled with...cocks?”
His mouth twitched and his eyes danced with humor for a brief time, but he didn’t smile fully. The dark lustful look remained strong, and a shiver of delight ran straight down her spine to coalesce with the aching in her nether parts.
