Chapter 4
Jameson
“Well?”
I sigh at Camden’s question. Bastard.
“Was I right, or was I right?”
I drop into the armchair in my suite, grinning like a loon. When did I last smile? “You were right. Happy?”
“Yes!” he shouts. “I knew it.”
“You’ve known this girl for over three years. Why didn’t you claim her for yourself?”
“Come on. You know me better than that. I would never jeopardize my career for a girl, nor would I risk her reputation for a romp with a professor. I’ve never crossed a line with a student. Besides, Natasha is your type, not mine.”
“Is that so? And what is your type these days?”
“Oh, no. We’re not talking about me right now. We’re talking about you. How far did you push her on the first day? Please tell me you didn’t push her so far that she glares at me on Monday morning and wants to cut off my balls.”
I draw in a deep breath.
“Jameson…”
I run a hand over my face. “It was hard to control my instincts. I had to stop myself from going one step further several times, but she’s so damn receptive. I’ve never met anyone more submissive in my life. Especially not someone who is probably completely ignorant about BDSM, or any kind of kink for that matter.”
“What about her Little tendencies?”
“Strong. She has done nothing but blush when I’ve called her Little one. Guess what she has nicknamed me.”
Camden laughs. “Natasha? She’s far too shy and polite to have done anything naughty.”
“Oh, I’ll have her misbehaving in no time. She has a naughty side that’s just begging to be let out. She called me Mr. Controlling.”
Camden laughs so hard it takes him a while to pull himself back together.
Meanwhile, I sit here, grinning like a loon. My face hurts from smiling so much. I can’t remember the last time I felt this pleased.
“Please tell me you didn’t spank her sweet ass on day one.”
“Nope, but I certainly wanted to a few times. She’s not ready for that. I stuck to controlling her under the guise of safety and health issues.”
“My curiosity is piqued,” Camden says, still chuckling.
“Let’s see. I tested her by making a rule that she must not climb the library ladder. Her knees nearly buckled. I’m certain her pussy was aflutter.”
“Wow. Impressive.”
“So, I gradually added things. Albert took her piece-of-junk car to Morton’s and left it with instructions not to look at it yet. Albert will drive her to school. I thought that was a better compromise than buying her a car today.”
“I’m impressed with your restraint,” Camden jokes.
“I gave her a curfew and a bedtime.”
“Fuck me. And she didn’t balk? I know she’s passive and agreeable, but she’s twenty-two. She didn’t look at you like you had two heads?”
“Nope. She politely said yes, sir to every command, especially after I forced her to verbalize it the first time.”
“You are a beast.”
“Anyway, I knew you would be pissed if I didn’t call with an update, so now you know. Kudos. You were right. She’s mine.”
“How many seconds did it take you to figure that out?”
“Point-five,” I admit.
“Good for you. I’m so glad. Be careful. Maybe take things down a notch so you don’t freak her out and send her running.”
“Yeah. I’ll try.” I end the call and head for the shower. I’m more of a morning shower kind of guy, but I might start showering three times a day if I have to deal with this constant hard-on she’s caused.
At ten minutes after eight the next morning, I’m standing outside Natasha’s bedroom door, listening for movement. Nothing. Silence. And only darkness is coming from under the door.
I consider the ramifications of knocking or even trying the handle. I need to be careful. I will blow my chance with this Little girl if I push her too hard. I don’t think I overstepped last night. I tried to watch carefully for signs that she was uncomfortable with my highhandedness.
Okay, uncomfortable isn’t the right word. I want her to be uncomfortable—in a squirming kind of way—but I don’t want her to run from me. I only saw signs of intrigue and occasionally arousal on her face.
Now, I’m at a new crossroads. If I invade her privacy, she might be furious. Maybe she sleeps naked and she’s still asleep. Maybe she’s masturbating. That would mortify her, though the idea makes me adjust my cock. That, I would certainly want to watch.
My Little girl is exhausted in general. She’s been burning the candle at both ends for…years. Hopefully, she’s simply sleeping. But what if she’s not? What if something’s wrong or she’s sick?
After a few minutes of deliberation, I knock softly. When I get no response, I knock again. Nothing. Now, I’m a bit panicky. Is it possible she’s not even in her room? Maybe I freaked her out so badly that she left in the middle of the night.
I know that’s not likely. She would have triggered the alarm and sensors. She doesn’t even have a car, so she would have had to call an Uber or a friend.
Finally, I make the risky decision to try the handle. The door is unlocked. I open it a few inches and immediately see my precious girl in bed. The lighting is dim, but she’s definitely under the covers. She’s also not moving, so I’m not interrupting anything that would embarrass her.
I need to know she’s okay, so I step into the room and make my way to her side. She’s so peaceful. Her thick brown hair is spread around her on the pillow. I visualize braiding it one day. Two braids behind her ears with ribbons on the ends.
Her full lips are parted. Her chest is rising and falling. She doesn’t look feverish, but I reach up and stroke her cheek. She’s not warm. She’s exhausted.
I should leave the room. I should back out quietly and let her sleep, but I can’t help myself. I want to stare at her while she has no idea I’m doing so. I need her like a drug addict needs a fix. I wish I could see more of her, but she’s burrowed under the covers. Even her arms are covered. The blankets are up to her neck. I wonder if she was cold. I’ll ask her later. I don’t want her to be cold in her room at night.
Natasha lets out a little whimper that goes straight to my cock. I remove my hand, intending to back up, but her eyes suddenly bolt open. She gasps and sits upright so fast it shocks me.
“I’m so sorry, Little one. I didn’t mean to scare you.” My tail is between my legs. Please don’t let her be pissed . I stroke her hair back from her face because I’m foolish and can’t keep my hands off my Little girl. “I was worried. You didn’t come down for breakfast or respond to my knock at the door. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Her eyes are still wide and confused as she looks at me. “What time is it?” she asks in a sleepy voice that also runs straight for my cock. I want to hear that tone again and again for the rest of my life. I want to tuck her in at night and be the first face she sees in the morning so I can hear her raspy, morning voice every day.
“About eight-fifteen.” I let my gaze dip to her chest. She’s wearing a pink T-shirt. I wonder if it’s long or if she has on matching sleep shorts.
She gasps. “Eight-fifteen?” Her eyes go even wider. “Oh no. I’m so sorry. I didn’t set an alarm. I’ve never slept this late in my life.”
“Don’t worry, Little one. It’s fine. You needed the sleep. I’m glad you didn’t set an alarm. I’m also sorry I woke you.”
She lifts her small arms to pull her hair back from her face. It’s tumbling all around her shoulders in the sexiest disarray. She groans. “It’s my first morning here, and already I’ve messed up. I swear I’m not this flakey. It won’t happen again. I’ll apologize to Edith and?—”
I set two fingers over her lips and sit on the edge of the bed. “Relax, Natasha. You haven’t messed anything up. You’re fine.” I take her slender shoulders and guide her back down. As soon as her head is resting on the pillow again, I slide one hand to her arm and give a little squeeze. “Look at me, Little one.”
Her lip is trembling, and her eyes are wet with unshed tears. Dammit. I realize she feels like she has to make an impression or I’ll ask her to leave. That’s never going to happen, and she needs to understand. “I know I came on strong last night. I’m Mr. Controlling.” I give her a grin. “But this is your home now, Little one. You live here. No one is going to ask you to leave just because you don’t show up for breakfast.”
She bites her lip, probably to hold back the tears, and nods.
I rub her arm gently. I’d rather thread our fingers together, but that would be too intimate. So I stick to stroking her arm. “Would you like to go back to sleep?”
She shakes her head.
“Would you like me to have Edith bring you a tray with breakfast?”
She gasps. “No. Please don’t do that. I feel strange enough with everyone waiting on me. I’m not used to it. I’m a homeless ex-foster kid who comes from nothing. I feel super awkward sitting at your dining room table as if I’m someone while your staff serves me, Mr. Hoffman.”
I cringe inside. For one, I hate that she feels like that. For two, I wish she wouldn’t call me Mr. Hoffman. Sir is okay. I’d rather she called me Daddy. But it’s absurdly too soon to make that request. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Little one. I don’t want to hear you speaking so poorly about yourself again,” I say sternly. “You’re a human being, a sweet, kind Little girl. It doesn’t matter what your background is. You deserve to be treated with the same respect as any other guest in my home. Albert and Edith would never look down on you like you obviously do yourself. Don’t let me hear you disparaging yourself again, understood?”
She licks those pretty lips and nods.
“Words, Little one.”
Her lips part, but I don’t miss her full-body shudder. “Yes, Sir.”
Oh yeah. That’s much better than Mr. Hoffman. She probably doesn’t know it, but she used a strong capital S on the word Sir that time. “Good girl. Now, breakfast in bed or the kitchen?”
“I don’t want to put anyone out. I’ll just wait for lunch.”
Inside, I growl like a lion. Outside, I shake my head and control my reaction. “No skipping meals, Little one. It’s not healthy. If you don’t want Edith to bring you a tray, I’ll have her prepare a plate for you in the kitchen. How much time do you need?” I’m so pushy that I’m beyond stunned when she doesn’t push back.
“I should take a quick shower. Is that okay?”
“Of course. Fifteen minutes?”
Her eyes twinkle a moment before she giggles. “What if I can make it in fourteen, or I’m late and it’s sixteen?”
I slowly smile. “Sassy girl.”
“Controlling man.”
Oh, I love this. I want to spar with her. I want to fast forward to when she’s fully mine and understands that she’s Little. I want to fast forward to a time when I have her total submission and obedience.
I’ll still enjoy her sassy side, but there will come a day when that naughty Little girl will get her bottom spanked for talking back to her Daddy.
I force myself to release her arm and rise to my feet. “I’ll see you downstairs then.”
She grins, and I can see another quip coming. “I’ll need seventeen minutes if I’m going to put on mascara.”
I chuckle. “You don’t need mascara or any other makeup, Little one. You look perfect without it.”
She swallows. I think my compliment makes her uncomfortable. I turn and hurry from the room, closing the door behind me.
When I’m in the hall, I lean against the door for a moment, catching my breath. I feel alive for the first time in years. I’m also invigorated. I will woo this woman into realizing she’s my Little girl. I just need time. And I need to back off before she runs away from me.
I can do this.
Give her space and time. She needs to trust me before I push her any further. I’ve tempted her several times. Made her think. Made her want. Now she needs time to process.