Ethan buckles my seatbelt for me, another of those little habits that make me ache for what I lost. Does he care for his wife this way? What will she think of me calling her Daddy to come rescue me?
Those questions and more stick in my throat as he closes the truck door and jogs back to the driver’s side to climb in. The giant truck roars to life and we pull away from the curb toward freedom.
“All right, angel. We need to talk.”
To my horror, arousal pools between my thighs. There was a time when those words in that tone would have almost certainly been the lead up to me going over Daddy’s knee for a hard spanking that left me a sore, sobbing mess in its wake.
Apparently my body remembers that tone all too well.
Pressing my thighs together, I have to fight the urge to squirm. “Um. Okay.”
Ethan glances over, another of those familiar frowns tugging at his mouth. But he doesn’t correct me, because he’s not actually my Daddy anymore so there’s nothing he can say about my response.
“I suppose we should start with the obvious,” he says as he effortlessly guides his truck through the traffic on the interstate. “Why did you call me? And I want the whole truth, little girl.”
More of that shameful arousal pulses between my thighs at his growled warning. “I told you. I needed to get out.”
“Mia. I said thewholetruth.”
“That is the whole truth,” I mumble, crossing my arms as I slide down in my seat, a move I know he hates.
And sure enough, Ethan sends a sharp look my direction. “Sit up straight, little girl, and tell me what’s going on before I pull this truck over and spank the truth out of you.”
The threat sends my heart racing and I’m debating the wisdom of testing it when he sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.
“Fuck, Mia, I’m sorry. I don’t have the right… I’m sorry.”
You have the right. You’ve always had the right.“No, I’m sorry. I’m being a brat after you came to rescue me in the middle of the night. Maybe you should spank me.”
I meant it as a joke, but judging by the way Ethan’s hand flexes on the steering wheel, it doesn’t really land the way I’d hoped. “You know I can’t do that, Mia. I’m married.”
Married. The word slams into my gut and it’s all I can do to keep the meager contents of my dinner down. “Right. Sorry. Um, how’s Sloane?”
“We can talk about Sloane later. You still haven’t answered my question.”
Sighing, I let my head fall back against the headrest, watching the lights speed past us. “It’s a long story. And I’m not just saying that to put you off, I promise. The short version is, the man I’ve been living with the past two years is not a good man and I had to get out before something really bad happened.”
“Did he hurt you?”
The controlled violence in his voice is oddly soothing. “Yes. Mostly he was a controlling asshole, but last week I’d finally had enough and I got mouthy with him and he…” I have to pause and swallow hard to force the words free. “He backhanded me across the face. And told me good Little girls don’t talk back and he’d had enough of me always being a disrespectful brat. But I’mnot.”
My voice cracks at the end of my confession. For reasons I still can’t explain, I’m more upset about being called disrespectful than the actual slap. I can certainly be a brat, but mostly I’m a good girl.
“I know, angel.” Reaching over, he takes my hand in his and squeezes. “You’re a good girl, Mia. He had no right…”
Hearing my own thoughts echoed by the one man who knows me better than anyone on this earth helps to loosen some of the knots in my stomach. And yet, some of the guilt and doubt lingers. “He’s my Daddy. I gave him the right.”
“That man is no fucking Daddy. And if I ever hear you try to justify what he did to you again, Iwillput you over my knee and paddle your bare ass until I’m convinced you understand what a piece of fucking shit he actually is. Do you understand me, Mia Grace?”
Those knots in my tummy continue to unravel. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
Despite his earlier reminder that he has a wife waiting for him at home, Ethan keeps my hand locked in his until he turns the truck onto a steep driveway. I know I should feel guilty about that, I do, butgodit just feels so damn good to be taken care of again. To feel cherished, the way he used to make me feel once upon a time.
“Sit right there and Da—I’ll come let you out.”
I should feel guilty about that, too. If I were married to Ethan and I heard him calling himself some other Little girl’s Daddy, I’d end up on one of those tv shows about women who go crazy and murder everyone.
