I wait, breath controlled, body coiled. Let him commit. Let him think he’s free.
“Do the right thing,” I whisper. “Turn around. Go back to bed.”
But it’s no use. This boy is doing precisely what he wants, no matter how irresponsible. He reaches the door, small handtrembling as it closes around the key in the lock. The deadbolt clicks—soft, but in the silence, it's a thunderclap.
I move.
Fast. Silent.
One hand clamps over his mouth from behind, the other arm banding around his waist, lifting him clean off his feet. He squeaks—muffled against my palm—then thrashes like a wild thing. Backpack drops with a thud, the stuffie tumbles to the floor.
"Leaving is not an option," I growl low in his ear. "And now, little one, you're going to learn that the hard way."
He freezes for a split second, then redoubles his fight—elbows jabbing, feet kicking air. I haul him back toward the living room, away from the door, ignoring the muffled protests vibrating against my hand. He’s strong for his size, but it's nothing—kitten scratches against a bear.
I kick the study door wider and drag him inside, slamming it shut behind us. Only then do I release his mouth, spinning him to face me.
"You—you can't keep me here!" Eddie bursts out, chest heaving, eyes flashing fire through the tears. "This is kidnapping! I want to go home!"
I grip his upper arms. "Home? To what? Abullet? Those men weren't after art, boy. They were after me. And now you're a witness. You walk out that door, you're dead before dawn."
He stomps his foot—again, that defiant spark. "I don't care! You're scary! This whole thing is scary! Let me go!"
My Daddy side surges—possessive, protective, punitive. He’s a Little, all right: bratty when cornered, needing boundaries more than anything.
"No," I say, voice like gravel. "You don't get to decide. Not tonight. Not until I say it's safe."
I release one arm, but keep hold of the other, marching him toward the leather armchair in the corner. He digs his heels in, but it's futile.
"What are you—stop! Let go!"
I sit, yanking him down across my lap in one fluid motion. Face down, bottom up. The classic position, one I suspect he knows all too well if his sass with me is anything to go by.
"You were warned earlier," I say, calm as ice. "About crying. About obeying. This is what happens when you don't listen."
“Argh! Screw you!” Eddie protests, kicking his feet and writhing on my lap.
“Safeword,” I demand.
“I hate you!” Eddie spits, a hint of something else in alongside his anger. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”
“I’ll ask one final time,” I say, the slightest hint of Eddie’s crotch grinding purposefully against me sending a bolt of lightning to my cock. “Safeword. Tell your Daddy your safeword so he can spank your butt.”
“You’re not my Daddy!” Eddie protests, his breathing short and his hips bucking once again. “But… but… my safeword islemongrass.”
And with that, I know I can begin.
This boy is about to discover that when a Pakhan gives a command, you obey or prepare yourself for a seriously hot backside…
Chapter 5
Eddie
I can’t believe this is happening.
But more than that, I can’t believe a part of me wants it to happen…
Not that I’m going to let Viktor know.
