2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
O h, dear God, she just wanted to go home.
No one had ever accused Kelly of being a social person, not even under the best of circumstances, and nothing that had happened since the accident had been the best of anything. She hurt. Her muscles all felt torn from her bones. She had a deep, dark purple diagonal line from her right shoulder to her left hip, down her breastbone and around her waist from where she’d slammed against the seatbelt. She had cuts. She had stitches. Right now, heaven would be the ability to wash her own hands or her hair… what she had left of it. Admittedly, hospitals weren’t known for their hair-styling surgeons, but still. She trailed her fingers glumly over the stubble where they’d shaved the entire right side of her head down to the scalp. Between that and her pink and blue mesh ‘gloves,’ she was halfway to looking line an 80’s Cindy Lauper cosplay fanatic. So, she had that going for her.
All day long, the hospital staff had been teasing her with the promise of finally going home until they sprang that, ‘We can’t release you under your own care’ bullshit. Seriously, what was that? She was twenty-eight! She’d been on her own since she was nineteen, and frankly, if one counted growing up with a single mom who worked two jobs and partied on the weekends, she’d pretty much been on her own since she was eight.
She could take care of herself. Would it be awkward? Sure. She had casts on both her hands; awkward was a nice word for how weird she expected this to get before it was over. But would she cope? Yes, of course, she would. Life was all about learning how to adjust. She would figure it out.
Hugging her right hand to her chest, she wiggled her fingers in the hopes a little extra movement might finally get the dull throbbing to stop. It didn’t, but what else was new? Everything hurt, why not her hands?
Head falling back to rest on the back of the seat, she sighed.
“How fast was he going?” Cole asked, breaking the silence.
“Who?”
“The guy who hit you.”
Shaking her head, Kelly shrugged with her eyebrows. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t remember getting hit, but when the police came by to get a report, they said there was a witness who stopped to call for help and keep me company until first responders got there.”
“But the car rolled?”
“Mm-hmm, but it landed on its tires so it’s not like I was trapped underneath it while it burned. It didn’t even catch fire for realsies until after I was already out.” She looked out the window again. Either the last round of pills they’d given her at the hospital was kicking in, or three days’ worth of sleepless nights was finally catching up with her. She was so drowsy. “I don’t think I was all the way unconscious, though. Like, I don’t remember getting hit, but I do sort of remember trying to steer out of the swerve, and I don’t remember rolling, like the sensation of it, but I remember suddenly being in a snowstorm… You know the kind where the snow hits like rocks on your face? I remember that, how the wind was blowing it around in all directions, but I swear I remember the snowstorm, like…vividly. How cold it was, how hard the ice chips felt, and how dark the night was… and then the car finished rolling and thumped down on all four tires and it was like I woke up without every going to sleep, kinda crunched up between the steering wheel, the seat, and the caved-in roof of my car. It was a weird feeling,” she mused, staring at the window but seeing only her own eyes looking back at her in confusion. “You’d think that realizing that the ‘snowstorm’ was just the broken windshield hitting my face would let me remember it that way, but nope! My brain is convinced that in the middle of a car crash, I teleported to Alaska or something for three seconds before warping back to the car.”
It was night, but there were so many cars whizzing past on the other side of the freeway, the inside of their car was anything but black. From the corner of her eye, she saw Cole’s shocked stare, snapping from the road to her and back to the road again.
“You sound so calm,” he said in disbelief.
“What’s not to be calm about? I survived.”
“You got hurt, Kelly,” he exclaimed, and she honestly couldn’t tell if he was upset or surprised. “Most people would be upset about that. You’re acting like you don’t care.”
“I care,” she protested, then shrugged again. “I just care more about going home and finally getting to relax. It’s been a long four days, Cole. I just want to be quiet for a while.”
He looked at her, then back at the road again. Hitting the blinker, he pulled onto the offramp.
“Okay,” he finally agreed. “That’s fair.”
“Thank you.” She closed her eyes, stretching her legs as much as she could in the passenger seat. Those muscles ached too, but she didn’t have much farther until she was home. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I didn’t want to distract you from your business trip. I didn’t want you to get hit by all this the second your plane landed, either, but I had to get out of there. I’d have taken a cab if only they’d have let me.”
“Don’t you think there might be a good reason why they didn’t?”
“Maybe, but they don’t get to be the boss of me just ‘cause they wanna be.”
He hit the brake, and her eyes shot open. For a moment, she was sure he was stopping because she’d used her Little voice and popped a bit of attitude. But no, there was actually a stoplight at the bottom of the freeway offramp, and it was changing color.
“Okay,” he said, stern but calm. “If your Little pops off again, my Daddy Dom is going to deal with her. So, if you don’t want me to put on my bossy pants, you need to keep your Big in full control of your attitude.”
Tired as she was, her stomach still clenched tightly, the way it always did when he started laying down ultimatums. She blamed the hospital drugs for her sudden willingness to push his buttons. There really was no other reason. She knew him and exactly how he was going to respond if she did it again.
And still, she couldn’t help herself. “You’re not the boss of me, either.”
His low chuckle did all kinds of terrible, wonderful things to her tummy. “Uh… yes, I am. I’m Daddy.”
“Only at the club,” she protested.
“And anytime, anywhere, your Little decides to start acting up. Yes, ma’am, I am Daddy in public or private and everywhere in between. I’m Daddy right now because you called me to break you out of the hospital. That’s number one. Number two, I’m Daddy until you’ve healed enough to do things on your own. Until that happens, I’m not leaving you alone… period. I’ll call my boss first thing in the morning. I can work from home and camp out at your place for a while.”
Her jaw dropped. “Now, hang on!”
“Nope. The doctor gave you orders. You have to show me you can follow them. Once you have recovered to the point that he and I both agree you can take care of yourself, I’ll go home. But I’ll tell you this right now, sweetpea, I’m going to take my cues from you. If your mouth wants to write checks your butt can’t cash, so be it, but don’t think for a second that you can do anything you want because you’re hurt. If you bring your brat out to me, Daddy’s coming out for you.”
That wasn’t at all what she wanted, yet the butterflies in her stomach were fluttering, and a languid pulse was throbbing low and slow between her legs. The rest of the drive to her house was made in pure silence while she tried to get those wayward sensations to stop.
As he pulled into the driveway of her little rental house, she was just starting to think this might not be too bad. In fact, this might be exactly what she needed—a nice two or three days alone with Daddy. A couple spankings, then she’d show him she could do whatever she needed to, he’d go home, she’d have a nice, hot, toasty bottom, and life would be golden again. Plus, he had a truck, and until insurance came through, she was without a car.
“Are we going to negotiate this?” she asked, as he pulled up to the walkway and parked.
He shut the car off, arching an eyebrow at her. “We just did.”
That set off the butterflies and the throbbing all over again. She blamed the medication.
“Clubhouse rules?”
“You mean, do you get a safeword?” He thought about it. “Sure, but you should know if you want to call a safeword, it’s only going to stop me long enough to talk about whatever issue you have, then I’ll proceed from there. If you were headed for a punishment, unless you do some fast-talking, I’m going to proceed straight into your punishment. If that’s what you really want to stop, I suggest you not start it.”
“What if you start something?”
“Safewords absolutely apply in that situation. I plan to be one hundred percent a gentleman in all situations.”
That shouldn’t have sounded anywhere near as good as it did, but she knew Cole. She liked him. They hadn’t been dating very long, but they were the absolute definition of peas in a pod, particularly where it came to Daddies and Littles, the clubhouse, and the bedroom.
Kelly was not a people-person. She had few friends, most of whom were little more than chatty acquaintances at the club or the baristas at her favorite coffee shop. If she threw a party for all her former boyfriends, she’d only have to order two pizzas, and only because Gabe was a vegan and Tony always took his meat-loving preferences so personally. Other than that, they’d probably all get along, which was more than she could say for the short list of Doms she’d played with at the local dungeon she’d been attending. Being alone had become so much of a habit, it had taken Cole almost nine months of conversation, coaxing, and friendship before she consented to her first scene with him. And the only reason that happened was because she’d been in full-blown Little mode with crayons and everything when he’d approached her.
Her Little had liked him instantly, and the warning bells of her Big side hadn’t kicked in until after he’d plied her with juice, two mini candy bars, and the offer of a good-girl spanking, followed by the non-sexual cuddles of a gentleman.
Yeah, her Little had liked him right from the start. And once they’d moved past strict dungeon play into the bedroom, her pussy had liked him as well. It was shameful to admit, but her pussy overrode a lot of decisions it probably ought not to get a vote on.
It was trying really hard to vote on this one, too.
And God, her Little. They hadn’t been together long enough for Cole to get a good look to that side of her and how it always tended to pop out at all the wrong times—like at the hospital, and when she was grumpy. Cole handled all that fairly well, but if he stayed with her, he was going to get his first long-term exposure. She couldn’t let that happen. She really liked him and didn’t want to lose him, certainly not over something she couldn’t control.
She needed to say no to this.
As if he’d read her mind, Cole suddenly said, “You can refuse all you like, but I promised the doctor you wouldn’t be alone, and I keep my promises. By now, you ought to know that, so this part is non-negotiable. I know how hard this is going to be for you, so I’ll give you whatever choices I can.”
“Like whether I want to be held prisoner in your place or mine,” Kelly grumbled.
“Like where you want to go to rest,” he agreed. “And yes, your behavior is also your choice. You can decide to be a good girl and let Daddy take care of you, or you can sass me and push back, in which case, Daddy will take care of that, too.”
Her bottom tingled.
“Don’t for a second think the only punishment I can come up with is a spanking either,” he said as if reading that unexpected hunger in her eyes. “Right now, you’re not in any condition for that, not until your bones heal. So I promise you, little girl, if you choose not to mind me, I will find the thing you hate the most and I will use it.”
Crap.
She stared at him, her eyes wide, unable to figure out how to say no when her mouth refused to obey her, and her heart was pounding so hard in her chest. The heat and pulse and butterflies went absolutely crazy when he pointed at her bag.
“Get your keys out.”
She knocked her bag clean off her lap in her startled effort to obey. Her hands trembled. That was weird. Her whole body was shaking, and she hadn’t even realized. She tried to reach through the layers of cut cloth, past her wallet in search of her house keys. However, the moment her sausage-swollen middle finger tried to hook the key ring, lightning pain shot from her hand straight up through her arm. She yanked back, instinctively cradling both casts and sucking air, struggling just to breathe. She managed not to let the welling pain-tears fall, but couldn’t quite keep the words in. “Oh, fuck… oh, fuck me… oh fuck, that hurts ! I’m fine,” she added through gritted teeth. “I just bumped my finger. Fuck!”
Even she could hear the strain in her voice, but it was all she could do not to scream. Maybe those painkillers—the good stuff, according to that doctor—weren’t that great after all. That realization only helped to lay another brick in her mental wall of certainty that she shouldn’t have to listen to him.
As the pain began to recede, she became aware Cole had reached over her, snagged the bag from between her legs, and dug out her house keys.
“Wait here,” he said, getting out of the truck. The whole thing rocked when he shut the door. Not that he’d shut it hard, but there was a look on his face as he walked around the hood that grated against every independent fiber of her being. He was coming around to open her door for her.
She cracked her cast against the door in her hurry to let herself out. She braced herself, carefully working her swollen fingertips in around the latch and pulled, but the minute her fingers met with resistance, blinding pain shot up her arm again. She shouted, quickly unhooking her fingers just before Cole opened it.
“Stop now,” he said, moving in to reach around her and unbuckle her seat belt like she was a helpless baby.
She wasn’t helpless. She’d never in her life ever been helpless. Her first words ever had been “I do it!” and if they were her last words, too, so be it.
“I can do it!” Fingers throbbing, she tried to unbuckle her seatbelt, but the cast kept catching on everything. She couldn’t find the button on the locking buckle, and her fingers were so swollen and sore now, she almost burst into tears trying to stretch them out. It was like trying to play piano in hockey gloves and if that wasn’t bad enough, the piano kept electrocuting her nerves each time she moved.
It hurt so badly!
Hugging her arms, she fought a surge of stinging tears as he leaned in around her, unbuckled the seatbelt, and untangled it from around her arms.
“Come on,” he said softly, without censure or a single ‘I told you so,’ not that she couldn’t hear it anyway. Every single ‘you can’t’ she’d been told over the course of her life came barreling through the forefront of her mind. She wanted to cry all over again, but she’d never do that, not now, and certainly not in front of Cole.
She got out of the truck and slammed the door shut with her elbow before he could do that for her too. She knew he didn’t deserve the glare she gave him as she stormed past him to the porch, but she didn’t deserve a broken wrist and three broken fingers, so they all had their burdens to bear.
“Do you want to try opening the door?” he asked calmly, following in her wake. He even held up the keys.
She looked at them, glared at him, shook her head, and waited.
The aching throb in both casts were pulsing so hard, she couldn’t feel the tender arousal that had had her squirming only minutes ago in the truck. That was for the best because she was not a weak woman. And never, ever again, would she let herself fall for a man who thought she was.
Cole opened her front door. If she could have got in ahead of him, she’d have slammed it on him, but he ducked in ahead of her while she trailed in behind him.
“What can I do to help?” he asked, closing and locking the door behind them.
Be mean , she thought bitterly. At least then, she’d feel justified in being mean back. Her eyebrows buckled, but she never took her eyes off the wall dead ahead of her.
“Honey?” he pressed. “Are you hungry? Can I make you something to eat? What would make you feel better?”
Great. Now she wasn’t just mad, she felt guilty too. None of this was his fault, after all. He’d just gotten home from ten-full days of being gone on business, and the last thing she wanted to do was this. Any of this!
“Look at me,” he said.
Shoulders slumping, she raised her unhappy gaze to his.
“It’s going to be okay.”
It didn’t feel that way.
“I need a bath. I want to go to bed, I’m tired,” she said, wilting and wanting nothing more than for tonight to go away,
The heat of his hand touched her back, and for all that she’d been so unreasonably grumbly, he leaned in to brush a kiss across her forehead. He was wearing the seductive spice-scented deodorant she liked so much. That, almost more than the kiss, whittled the last of her anger away, leaving her nothing but exhausted and sad.
“Come on,” he coaxed, turning her by the shoulders and walking with her down the hall toward her bedroom and the bathroom. He went in first, dropping the plug in the bottom of her clawfoot tub and turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until he deemed it perfect.
“Do you need to potty?”
“I can do it,” she shied, clamping down on her Little’s instant nod.
He stepped back to give her plenty of room, then stood there, arms folded, waiting.
“You’re looking at me,” she said.
He turned around, facing the hallway, his broad back filling up the doorway. With his arms folded like that, his back looked even more muscular than normal. The change in stance didn’t make her feel better.
“You’re listening to me,” she said, her voice small against her will.
“If you go potty and can’t wipe, are you going to pretend like you did, flush so I won’t know the difference, then hop into the tub to hide you can’t clean your bottom?”
She hated how easily he seemed able to read her mind.
“No,” she lied, but there was too long a pause in between his question and her answer.
He didn’t move. “Go potty, Kelly.”
She did, blushing hot and staring at his back the whole time. This was just too embarrassing. And sure enough, while she was eventually able to fumble enough toilet paper off the roll to wad up, there was no bend in her cast to aid in wiping all the way.
She cried, mortified and hating her helplessness in a way no amount of fit throwing could adequately express. She was too tired for fits and far too disheartened to bear asking him for help. She sobbed with her head bowed, sitting there until he came to take care of her.
He wiped her eyes and her nose, then took care of things further south. Helping her up, he undressed her, pulling off the hospital gowns and scrubs, and the only word he said had nothing at all to do with her tears.
“Oh, baby.” He gazed sympathetically at the dark bruises that bisected her everywhere the seatbelt had been.
“I-I’m f-fine.” She hiccupped, awkwardly wiping away the tears on her upper arms.
His response was to get some tissues and clean her face for her, beginning with a gentle, “Blow,” as he held tissue to her nose and ending with, “There’s my good girl.” He steadied her as she climbed into the tub, then slipped both hands under her arms and let her lower herself into the warm water.
“I’m going to get Tub Ducky,” he said once she was settled.
“I don’t want Tub Ducky,” she muttered, but Cole saw through that lie. He gently dropped her yellow rubber duck, with its faded sailor hat, into the bathwater before excusing himself from the bathroom. She sat there, sniffling, unable to do anything with Tub Ducky except bat him away with her casts whenever he bumped into her tummy.
Now she felt guilty about that, too. Tub Ducky didn’t deserve her sour attitude any more than her boyfriend did.
A few minutes later, Cole came back in with two plastic grocery bags and duct tape.
“Hands,” he said, and when she held them up, he wrapped her arms from fingers to elbows in the grocery bags and silver tape. “That’s not watertight, remember? Don’t put your hands in the water. Do you want your tub crayons?”
Like she could do anything with them. Glaring at her Popeye- arms, she laid back in the tub, stared at the ceiling, and tried to hide how useless she felt. She told herself she was dealing with this so badly because of the painkillers and because she was tired, and maybe even because her normal everyday routine had been so thoroughly destroyed these past four days. Nobody was expected to be happy when their daily routine was in the toilet—where it would stay for the next six weeks.
She just needed to give herself time. She’d eventually figure it out. Her hands weren’t going to hurt forever. Give her another week or so and she’d find a way to pick up her keyring that wouldn’t feel like she was sticking her hand into a blender. She could wear nightgowns for six weeks and eat cereal dry if she had to, right out of the box, if that’s what it took. She might be hurt, but she wasn’t useless—she refused to be. The ability to adapt to sudden changes in routine was what separated Man from the animals, right? So given enough time, she would figure it out.
Eyes closed, she heard Cole return to kneel by the tub. Ripples of water lapped at her bent knees and around her stomach and ribs as he dipped a washcloth and soap to get them wet enough to lather.
“Top-down or down-up?” he asked, startling her.
Shit. Realizing she’d nodded off, Kelly sloshed water in her haste to sit up.
“Um… top down,” she mumbled, almost whacking herself in the face with her cast when she went to rub her eyes. They didn’t want to stay open, and all her trains of thought were pulling in at Sleepytime Junction. She supposed she could brute force her way back to awake, but that was where all the pain lived, so poop on that.
“Okay, quick bath,” Cole said, noting the jerk of her head as she caught herself nodding again.
“No, I’m fine, the water’s just so warm.”
“Beddy-bye will be warm, too,” Cole soothed, lifting the long light-brown strands of hair off the back of her neck so he could soap her down.
That felt far too good. She closed her eyes again, letting her head hang forward until her chin almost touched her chest while he washed her back. She startled awake again when he said, “Pitties,” but she was so out of it. He was done washing her armpits before she fully realized what he was saying or doing.
“Lie back for Daddy.” His hand was behind her head, guiding her back until she was lying against the gentle slope of the clawfoot tub. The washcloth passed across her chest, spreading lather over her skin without applying any real pressure, especially in the places she was bruised. She ought to tell him, she really wanted to wash her hair, but the effort to open her eyes, much less her mouth, was impossible.
The next time she startled awake, the gentle flow of water was trickling over her forehead and through her hair, spilling down her back into the tub. She almost bonked them both with her casts.
“Shh-shh,” he said, pulling her into his comforting embrace. He was half-kneeling on the floor, leaning well over her with his strong arm under her shoulders while he wet her hair. “Let’s get your hair washed, then you can go to bed, okay?”
“I didn’t wash my hands,” she mumbled.
“We’re not going to, baby. You can’t get your casts wet.”
She hated the feel of the bags around her fingers. “I didn’t wash my feet.”
“I did.”
“I didn’t feel it.”
“I promise, I washed your feet,” he said, chuckling as he poured another cupful of water over her head. “I washed everything from your pretty face to your even prettier toes.”
“Foot freak,” she tried to joke.
“Kink shamers get their bottoms spanked.”
Don’t threaten me with a good time . She couldn’t tell if she actually said that part out loud. It was too lulling for her to resist when he poured shampoo on her head and began working it in.
The next thing she knew, he was helping her stand while the sudsy water swirled down the drain. Her legs wobbled as he quickly wrapped her in a towel, then lifted her all the way out. He sat her on his lap, holding her securely while he dried her off. She kept trying to rest her head on his shoulder, but he kept waking her up.
“No, sit up now.”
She cried. “I’m so tired, Daddy.”
“I know, I’m hurrying.” He took the bags off her casted hands, then made her stand, so he could help walk her into her bedroom and over to her bed.
She had a slew of t-shirt style nightgowns, most of them with funny sayings across the front, like That Friday Night Feeling or Sleep, Eat, Coffee, Repeat . He didn’t bother putting any of them on her. She wasn’t sure she’d have had the strength to let him. She barely managed to stay upright long enough for him to peel the blanket back. The second she saw her mattress and top sheet yawning open, she crawled in between them.
Curled on her side, her head on the pillow and her useless casts clunkily resting on top of one another, she sighed out a sleepy, “Thank you, Daddy.”
And that was all she knew. After that, sleep claimed her.