Brock tipped his head, giving her a little sideways shake that she didn’t for a second mistake as him telling her no. Taking hold of her hand, he turned and led her back through the living room, through the kitchen to the bedroom she’d selected as her own.
She felt happy and weird shuffling along behind him with her hand held in his. It was a firm hold, and yet she didn’t feel captive. She certainly wasn’t walking to her doom against her will. When he pulled her into her room, she was shaking, but not out of fear. Rather it felt more like excitement. She hadn’t felt this, not in a long time.
Brock pointed to the middle of the wall. “Find a spot. Take a step back, Now bend and put your hands on the wall. You might want to step out of your pants. I don’t want you to be off balance “
Taking her hands off the wall, she hunkered down to untie her shoes, and stepped out of those as well, rather than risk getting caught in her pants legs. Talk about a guaranteed fall, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Not when for the first time in what felt like years she was under the attention of a man like Brock—kind and protective, and not at all opposed to disciplining her, just like a Daddy would, giving her a safe path on which to find her way back to the feeling of safety he never failed to inspire.
As she replaced her hands on the wall, spreading her feet a safe distance apart, she looked back at him. “In case I forget to say so later, thank you.”
His laugh puffed out at her. Shaking his head, he closed the distance between them until he was lined up at her hip, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back, right where her shirt ended and her bare skin began.
He didn’t warm her up with his hand first, he just took off his belt, doubled it over, took firm hold on her shoulder and let swing. From that first sharp snap of leather straight on to the last, she yelped and cried and stomped her feet, involuntary expressions of pain that would not be ignored, but she kept her hands on the wall and she never moved out of position, no matter how much it hurt. And it was awful, but it was wonderful too. And as soon as it was over, he dropped his belt on the floor in favor of pulling her upright and into his arms. His body was hot, and his shirt was soft, soaking up her tears for as long as they fell.
It didn’t last long. The petting of his hand on her hair and down her back was too soothing. Too distracting. It made the heat in her scalded bottom branch out. It was in her stomach, pulsing and throbbing in that same sultry, wounded beat that was swelling through the welts his belt had left behind. It was between her legs, humming through her clit. He hummed too,holding and caressing her, comforting her now that discipline was done. Men didn’t bother to do that either, unless they truly cared.
She clung to him, soaking up as much of the comfort as he wanted to give her, while her sniffles dwindled away into breathy gasps and hitches. Until all too soon, she realized she wasn’t crying anymore, but he was still rocking her. He was still humming too, as up and down his hands continued to caress, stroking her hair and her back. Stroking and humming, until the heat unfolding inside her began to melt, wending through her as little more than a trickle at first, but growing swiftly, letting that heady throb move through her until it was everywhere. Her clit, her nipples, even growing in her fingertips as every caress he gave her made her ache to caress him back. She lifted her head from his chest, needing more than just to touch and be touched by him. Needing to feel his kiss, because there was no mistaking how much he wanted her when he did that. There was no mistaking his hunger.
“Talk to me,” he said huskily. “I need to know where your headspace is.”
“It’s right here.” She had to grab his head and pull him down to finally feel his lips taking hers. Whatever reluctance he’d had vanished the minute she parted her lips, her heart leaping when he took instant advantage of the extra access. His kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping in to dance with hers, and the next thing she knew, her back was to the wall and Brock had her pinned to it.
He caught her ass in both hands, hauling her fan so far off her feet that she had no choice but to grab onto his shoulders with both hands. Her legs clung to his waist, wrapping as she tight as she could around him.
Her mewl of surprise morphed into a shaky sigh when his fingers splayed and suddenly she could feel him in all her most private places. He was touching her pussy, his fingertips delvinginto wetness, sending electric sparks shooting through her. She clung to his shoulders, gasping breathless cries into his mouth. He moaned, drinking them in.
“Tell me it’s too soon, babygirl,” he begged her. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”
“Please don’t ever stop,” she whispered back.
“God,” he groaned, and his fingers dug into her, squeezing the flesh of her sore ass until all she could do was throw her head back with a cry. His mouth latched onto the side of her neck, hot and suckling, and stinging her skin. His hands splayed wider, squeezed harder, digging in to her welts. Digging into the folds of her pussy and the crack of her ass too.
The tip of one finger was pressing right up against the pucker of her asshole. When it suddenly slipped past the first ring of muscle and sank to the first knuckle inside her, she let out a cry. It wasn’t loud. She certainly didn’t want him to stop. It felt naughty, and dirty, and wonderful all at the same time. It felt like being claimed, wholly and completely, by Daddy’s big hands. He owned her bottom, to punish and to pleasure as he wished. He ripped the fly of his jeans open and shucked his pants out of the way, then thrust his way inside her, stretching her and filling her until she thought she’d pass out. He pounded into her, up against the wall like a bad girl in an empty bar room. His finger was in her ass, and his hungry mouth was sucking another hickey into her skin, this time on her shoulder.
Her pussy spasmed, riding the thrust and pull of his cock until the spasms turned into waves, washing and crashing through her, stealing every ounce of breath she had in a single wailing cry that went on and on, joined in the end by his guttural gasp just before he slammed into her, deep and hard, and she felt the gush of wetness as he came.
She wrapped her arms that much tighter around him, knowing he’d have to put her down soon, but drinking in his ownership and strength for as long as he wanted to hold her.
They were heartbeat to heartbeat, his softening cock still inside her, his ragged breath filling her with every gasp she took.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll break down the crib and take it to my house while you bring over your things. I’d really prefer you live with me if you’re going to help me care for Pops. But I’ll understand if you want to continue renting this place, at least until you feel confident about the direction our relationship is going.”
He still hadn’t put her down.
Rolling her head on his shoulder, she pressed her face into the side of his neck, breathed in the reassurance of his scent and nodded. “Thank you.”
He nodded, and still didn’t put her down. “When the time comes, just so there’s no misunderstandings now—when the time comes, I’ve got no problem if Lily calls me Daddy too. It’ll be a whole different kind of daddy, but just like you, I’ll always be there for her too.”
She melted. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Epilogue
“Damn, that was fast,” Maggie said over the phone.
“I told you so,” Pops chuckled, bouncing a giggling Lily on his knee. “A wise person once said, relationships are like gardens. The ones that grow the best are those with a gardener and a flower. My boy thrives on being a gardener. Always has.”
“And my poor girl is definitely a flower,” Maggie returned. “And your plan to have everything off when she got there was pure genius. Remind me never to piss you off.”
Chuckling, Pops nodded. “I am an old bear when I need to be. My boy takes after me that way too.”
Lily reached for him with both hands, giving a squeal of laughter when he made growling noises and pretended to chew on her tiny fingers.
Pops melted in a rare smile himself. After all, even old bears needed their little girls too.
THE END
