Chapter Fifteen
Sam
Something was up with Dylan.
Over the past week, he’d gotten even bossier than he had been before their trip to Atlanta. Picking out her pajamas in the evening, not allowing her any alcohol unless she asked permission first.
The latter had caused a rather epic meltdown on her part that had ended with her standing in a corner, her very sore, very red bottom on display while he lectured her on the importance of good sleep and how alcohol could actually impede her ability to get a decent night’s rest.
And the worst part was, he was right. The past three nights she’d fallen asleep within half an hour of him putting her to bed—without her phone, another rule of his she’d argued herself into a spanking over—and she’d woken feeling far more refreshed than usual.
She still wasn’t sure how to feel about it all.
Part of her loved the rules. Loved having someone else worry about whether she was drinking enough water or getting enough sleep.
But it was harder than she’d expected, letting him take control of so much. More than once she’d been tempted to tell him to fuck right off, that she wasn’t about to let someone young enough to be her son boss her around. Every time she got close to that point, however, he’d either spank or fuck the defiance right out of her.
It was, in so many ways, exactly what she’d always wanted. So why the hell was it sohard?
Since the answer to that question wasn’t likely to be found on her ceiling, she turned to slide out of bed—or tried, at least. The iron band that was her Daddy’s arm tightened around her waist and behind her his chest rumbled with laughter.
“Where do you think you’re going, babygirl?”
“Kitchen. I need coffee.”
“Hmm.” Nuzzling his nose against the side of her neck, he stroked his hand over her stomach. “You drink far too much coffee. We’re going to need to work on that.”
“If you try to take my coffee away, I will actually murder you.”
“I’m not going to take it away. But we will be weaning you down to two cups a day.”
Rebellion welled in her chest. She was a grown-ass woman, she could damn well drink as much coffee as she wanted. “Try it and see what happens.”
“Excuse me?”
The steel beneath his words sent her heart racing. But she wasn’t ready to back down. This was hercoffeehe was fucking with, and he expected her to literally just lie there and take it?
Fuck that.
“You heard me.”
“I did, but I was hoping I’d heard wrong. Becausemybabygirl does not talk to her Daddy that way.”
It was the hint of disappointment in his tone that had the first twinges of guilt twisting in her stomach. “I’m just saying,you can’t go around messing with a woman’s coffee. It’s not right.”
“Hmm.” The hand on her stomach drifted lower, teasing little touches that sent ripples of pleasure running through her veins. “But you haven’t even heard my proposal yet.”
Down, down that hand went, beneath the waistband of her pajamas to where she was already soaking wet for him. Clearly her body didn’t mind his bossy ways, even if her mind constantly rebelled. “I’m listening.”
Another rumbled of laughter as he pushed two fingers inside her. “Good girl.” His fingers curled, hitting that spot inside her that always made her eyes cross with pleasure. “One cup with breakfast and one with lunch on the weekends.”
“Daddy, no.” Even as she whined, her hips moved against his hand, seeking the pleasure she knew she’d find there.
“Yes, baby. Going cold turkey is likely to cause serious withdrawal, so I won’t put you through that. But two cups on the weekend, when you don’t have to work, is perfectly reasonable.”
“It isnotreasonable,” she grumbled.
“Poor baby.” The sympathy in his voice was entirely fake, and she hated that it only made her wetter, needier as his fingers stoked that fire inside her. “Would it feel more reasonable if I offered something in place of coffee?”
