Chapter 5 – Michael
CHAPTER 5
MICHAEL
My cock throbs as I watch her eat. It shouldn’t be so sexy. By all rights, pizza is one of the least sexy foods there is, and yet, I cannot seem to draw my gaze away from her lips. Even now I can’t stop staring at the smear of tomato sauce that keeps bringing me back to that delectable bottom lip.
How I so want to suck it in between my teeth and nibble down on the soft flesh. But I still don’t know yet how receptive she’d be to my dominance. True, she became aroused, but there are still so many other factors at play.
I know many other Alphas who have married and made the omega align their entire lives with them. But I’m not that kind of Alpha. Am I really in the wrong for wanting her to enjoy the things I want to do to her? I want her to beg me for my belt, to crave the pain and violence that slithers through my veins at any given moment. I don’t want this little omega afraid of me. Quite the contrary.
I want her so consumed with me that each breath is laced with, “yes, Sir." I want her so entrenched in the lifestyle I want us to live that she doesn’t even think to call me Daddy. It’s just natural to her.
When she called me that, even in sarcasm, it shifted something in me. I always considered myself a nurturing dominant. I knew I had a penchant for being a Daddy, but I never allowed myself the freedom to explore. It’s a responsibility I refused to take on with the casual betas and omegas I played with.
To me, Daddy is a commitment, one I would take seriously. It’s not just some term I feel comfortable tossing around like I would Dom or Top. A Daddy is so much more, and from the pain I still detect swirling around this little omega, she needs that from me.
She needs me to give her my all and then some. I can only hope it’s enough. Sometimes, people have wounds so deep that nothing can touch them, even the love of a Daddy who tries his very best.
Switching to something less depressing and deep, the conversation from earlier replays in my head as she takes another bite of pizza. Spank me? Even now, the thought makes me chuckle as I snatch up a breadstick, hovering it just out of reach of her questing fingers.
There’s more than enough to go around, but she has her heart set on this piece, and I long to see if there’s a playful girl underneath that hardened exterior. With each swipe of her fingers, a soft smile tilts her lips, giving me hope.
But soon, it’s gone as she abandons the game and grabs a different one. With a sigh, I set it down and reach for her hand. The moment I brush against her, she jerks back, taking her breadstick with her.
“I’m not going to steal your food. I was just playing with you. If you want this one, you can have it.”
“I’m good. Thank you.”
My heart breaks as I watch her take little bites, her eyes constantly glancing back at me. What damage did Jacob manage to do to her in just a span of two months? Or is this something left over from her family?
The need to pry into her life, to seek out every demon and slay them beats at me. But we’re nowhere near close enough for me to even ask her. Hopefully soon, she’ll come to me.
Silence hovers between us, only broken by the sound of chewing. It’s tense, and I detest it. Soon, she’s done, and sets her plate in front of her, looking up at me with questions dancing in her eyes.
Clearing her throat, she glances around. “In my friends’ houses, whoever cooked didn’t have to do the dishes. But since you ordered out, what does that mean?”
Interesting. In my house, the omega, or wife in my mom’s case, took care of all of it—cooking, cleaning, everything. Then again, my mother was very domestic and enjoyed caring for us. I’d like to think my father would have never forced her to do it if she didn’t want to.
“What it means is that we can do them together. And I’ll even make an amendment to the rules. When you cook, I’ll clean. How does that sound?” Is it my imagination or does her face fall at that concession?
I thought she’d be happy about it. Not dancing around or anything, but at least excited to see me bend the rules so early in the relationship. With a nod, she reaches for my plate, but I stop her, grabbing her hand.
She flinches and pulls back, her eyes wide, haunted. Just what did that bastard do to her? “Hey now,” I murmur softly, keeping my tone light. “I’m not going to harm you.”
“Sure,” she sniffs, derision lacing her tone. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Pulling back as if stung, I rub my heart. “Have I not shown you? What more proof do you want?”
“Give it a week or two,” she grumbles, so quiet I almost don’t hear her.
“Or, and hear me out,” I attempt to tease. “I’m not a bad guy?”
“You’re an Alpha. The very definition of a bad guy. You can hide behind your job as a DA and claim you’re so good, but at the end of the day, you can’t deny your dynamic. Your biology is bad.”
Frowning, I cross my arms, disappointment and anger warring within me. How can she just paint all of us with such a wide brush? “Your words are unkind and unfair. But I know you’re hurting, so I’ll choose to ignore them.”
“Oh, how magnanimous of you.” The disrespect in her tone makes my fingers itch with the need to pull her over my lap and show her that actions have consequences.
But again, we’re not there yet. How I wish we were. How I long to teach her the love and freedom that can be found in submission and discipline. Instead, I ignore her, not allowing my anger to get the best of me.
Grabbing both of the plates, I head into the kitchen, half expecting her to follow me, spewing her tirade. Honestly, it’s not the first time I’ve heard an omega say this, and I know it won’t be the last. It’s really not her fault she feels this way, especially if she suffered at the hands of an Alpha.
I look back behind me, but she stays at the table, fidgeting with her hands. And so, I take a moment to rinse the plates and put them into the dishwasher before heading back to the table. Once I’m by her side, she looks up at me, her eyes wide.
“Are you going to hit me now?”
“Have you done something to warrant me disciplining you?” Even as I say that word, my traitorous cock jerks. Say yes. Please say yes. Beg me to take you in hand .
“I said hit.”
“I know what you said. I said discipline. There is a difference.”
“Do you hit when you discipline?” Her eyes flash, that hint of defiance coming back, and yet, underneath, there’s still that raw vulnerability that makes me want to scoop her into my arms and kiss the pain away.
“My discipline takes on many forms. It depends on the girl and the infraction. Even then, I never just ‘hit.’ I spank, flog, paddle. Hit is so crude and undisciplined. What I do has finesse, and, more importantly, a reason. I will never strike you in anger. I’ll never lift a hand to you without a discussion first.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Again, that petulant tone and pout make me long to gather her into my arms and just smother her with affection, kissing her until it disappears.
Shaking my head, I grab the pizza and breadstick boxes and clear the table. “In that case, I guess it’s best if we just say goodnight then.”
“Wait, what?” She looks up at the kitchen clock, bewildered. “It’s not eleven yet. I don’t have to go to sleep. Per your stupid rules, counselor.”
This time, I can’t hide the smile that crosses my face. Maybe things will actually be okay between us. This could simply be her testing her boundaries, seeing where things are.
Turning, I cross my arms, affecting a mock glare. “And what evidence do you have that I’m not holding up my rules? I merely said we should say goodnight. I never once said you had to go to sleep. You are correct. It’s not eleven yet, so feel free to do whatever you want until then.”
For half a second, her face falls. “Wait. Alone?”
“Doesn’t have to be. That choice is yours. But I don’t imagine you want to spend any more time than necessary with me when, how did you put it, my Alpha biology is bad?”
“Well. I mean…”
“Yes?”
“Ugh. Whatever. I’ll just go unpack my room.”
“Seems like a reasonable way to spend your time. I was going to suggest popcorn and a movie, but seeing to your things is a far more responsible way to occupy yourself.”
Turning back to the cabinets, I make a grand show of pulling out containers to store the remaining food in, hoping she’ll let go of whatever grudge this is. But she doesn’t. In a huff, she leaves the table and disappears into her room, slamming the door behind her.
She’s not mine to discipline. Not yet anyway. Putting the food away, I walk over to her door, prepared to ask her not to slam doors in my house, but stop as the soft sounds of sobs drift through the door.
She probably doesn’t intend for me to hear it. With a heavy heart, I walk away, giving her space and time. It kills me to leave her like this, guts my insides to hear the pain in her cries. Unfortunately, I still have to prepare for tomorrow’s court case, and that can’t wait.
Now, more than ever, I want that bastard behind bars. Though I don’t have proof he touched her and not her own father or another relative, I’m fairly certain. I’ve been nice enough so far, not forcing her to testify when she’s no longer held by spousal privilege.
Stupidly, I’ve wanted to spare her that agony. More than that, I wanted to keep her out of his crosshairs. If she doesn’t testify, he can’t blame her for going to prison. Still though, it’s an ace in my pocket I can use at will to get her to talk to me. I only wish I could convince her to open up without it.
* * *
A hint of movement, a slight shifting in my periphery, catches my attention, rousing me up. Who the hell is in my house? But more importantly, who the hell is near my bed? Unfortunately, the first name to come to mind is Jacob.
No doubt he’s hired someone to take me out so I won’t be able to put him away. But what he doesn’t understand is that it’s no longer just about me. There’s a Little girl in this house that needs me, and I’ll be damned if he causes any more harm to her because of his grudge and misplaced anger.
Reaching up under my pillow with a slowness that causes my shoulder to burn, I wrap my fingers around the handle of a knife and ease it out. Then, when the figure gets close enough, I grab them, taking them down to the mattress. Just as I bring the knife up to rest against their throat, my brain clicks into gear.
Rosalind .
Fuck! Tossing the knife back down I hold her close, allowing my heart to slow. Underneath me, she barely moves, barely breathes. Am I hurting her? Pulling back, I blink down at the small figure huddled into a small ball.
“Talk to me, baby. Are you hurt?” A soft sniff pierces my heart. “Fuck. Did I hurt you?”
“N-no.”
“Then why—” Not even finishing that thought, I get out of bed and turn the light on, causing us both to blink from the brightness.
There, with her knees pulled up, head burrowed into a pair of shiny pajama bottoms is Rosalind. Tears stain her face, turning everything blotchy and red. It seems as if she’s been crying longer than I thought.
Earlier, before turning my lights out as I got ready for bed, I stopped back by her door and listened. There was no crying and no sounds of any kind. A quick check on the camera feeds showed she was fast asleep.
My tone is soft, as devoid of accusation as I can make it while still gaining consciousness. “Why are you here?” Instead of answering me, she glances over at the knife and shudders. “I wasn’t going to use it on you. It’s there for my protection. I put away a lot of bad people. Sometimes they want revenge.”
“Like Jacob?”
“Like Jacob.”
She turns to me then, her eyes growing wide as she zeros in on my waist. I sleep naked, and just because I’m married, that’s not going to change. Standing there, I let her gaze roam over my body, studying me as she plucks at her pajama pants.
“You’re bigger.”
With a smile, I widen my stance and puff out my chest. “I do work out, so thank you for noticing.”
“No, you dork,” she snorts, tears drying up. “Not your body. Well, yes, that too. But your… you know. That.” She gestures toward my dick.
“My cock? Come now, surely you can say that. Try it for me. Cock.”
A pretty blush spreads over her cheeks. “You know what I’m talking about, so no. I won’t.”
“Come now, can’t you say it for me? Can’t you be my good girl and say it? I want to hear it drip from your lips.”
Her breathing becomes shallow as her mouth drops open. “I… uh… your… cock.” She says the last word so softly it barely reaches my ears, but I hear it.
With that one little word, it hardens, growing as she stares at me. She gasps, her breath catching in her throat. “Am I still bigger?” Not that I care exactly, but knowing there’s a difference between him and me makes my heart pound with anticipation. “You never answered my question. Why are you here?”
“I… well…” Again, her face turns pink as she looks away from me.
Not giving one damn about my nakedness or insistent cock, I slide back onto the bed, taking a moment to stash the knife back under the pillow, and hold my arms out. I’m not sure why I do it, but instinct screams at me that she’s hurting. I don’t force her, though. I leave the option open for her to accept my comfort.
She looks at my arms as if they’re snakes, her body quivering. But after a moment or two, she inches closer. It doesn’t matter that she’s not in my arms yet, it’s a step in the right direction. I don’t move or even breathe as she moves yet another small inch.
After what feels like an eternity, she collapses into my arms, her body shaking as more tears pour from her eyes, coating my chest. “Nightmare,” she manages to choke out.
Wrapping my arms around her, I purr, my cock twitching as she melts into me. There’s nothing quite like feeling an omega relax, the tension draining from their bodies at this simple sound. Granted, when I do it, it’s usually for victims I’m speaking with, and I’m fully clothed and seated away from them.
This is the first time I’ve been able to do this for an omega of my own. My heart breaks right alongside hers as I rock back and forth, allowing all the hurt and anguish to flow from her. I stay strong, taking all of it. It’s a burden I’m very willing to share.