Chapter 13
W hile the cat’s away. . . .
I kicked off my shoes and paced the length of Brett’s living room, my bare feet sinking into the soft carpet. His scent clung to everything, wrapping around me like a hug, but it wasn’t cutting it. I was restless.
Last night still hummed in my chest. The way he’d held me, the way he’d looked at me—like I was his whole world. It made me shiver just thinking about it. But now, with him out helping Marcus try on tuxes, I felt untethered. Alone. We could be having so much fun, down at the arcade, playing classics like The House of the Dead. But instead I was here, by myself, bored. And when boredom hit, my mind got . . . creative.
I wandered over to the couch, flopping onto it for all of three seconds before popping back up again. Nope. Couldn’t sit still. My eyes flicked to the door, as if willing Brett to walk through it right then and there. No luck.
"Ughhh," I groaned, dragging my hands down my face.
Then it hit me. A spark of mischief. A plan.
If Brett wasn’t here to give me attention, well, I’d make damn sure I had all of it the second he walked back through that door. My lips curved into a grin so wide, it almost hurt. Let’s see how far Daddy could really go.
"Alright, Maisy," I muttered to myself, bouncing on the balls of my feet. "Time to stir the pot."
I headed straight for his bedroom, my heart thudding harder with each step, part nerves, part giddy excitement. His scent was even stronger in here, like stepping into the essence of him. I paused at the edge of his dresser, fingers twitching.
"Okay," I whispered, pulling open the first drawer. T-shirts. Neatly folded because of course they were; Brett practically oozed order. I rifled through them, shaking my head. "Not what I’m looking for."
The next drawer down. Jackpot.
Underwear. All lined up like soldiers ready for inspection. “Oh my God you fold them!” Black boxer briefs, gray ones, a pair of navy blue—oh, these were going to be fun to mess with. I bit my lip, trying not to laugh, and scooped out every last pair.
"Sorry, Daddy, the underwear fairy is gonna be super busy today," I said under my breath, though my tone was anything but apologetic.
I glanced around, deciding where to stash them. Closet? Too obvious. Under the bed? Nah. I turned in a slow circle before my gaze landed on the perfect spot—his gym bag shoved into the corner. Bingo.
After cramming the underwear inside, I grabbed a sticky note from the pile on his nightstand. I scribbled quickly, my handwriting slanted and a little messy: " Come and get them, Daddy, if you can! "
"Perfect," I murmured, sticking the note smack-dab on top of the empty drawer. My stomach fluttered at the thought of him finding it, the look that would flash across his face. That mix of exasperation and heat that turned my knees to jelly.
As I stepped back to admire my work, a giggle bubbled out of me. Oh, this was going to be so worth it.
I kicked the bathroom door shut with my foot, a heap of clothes clutched to my chest. The shorts I picked out were so short they could’ve been classified as underwear, and the crop top? Well, it was more of a suggestion than a shirt. I tugged it down over my head, the fabric hugging tight across my chest. My stomach fluttered as I turned to face the mirror.
"Okay," I muttered, adjusting the hem of the top, "this’ll definitely get his attention."
My reflection stared back, cheeks pink, eyes bright. I twisted side to side, checking the fit. Every inch of me felt exposed—bare legs, bare midriff—but that’s what made it thrilling. Provocative. Bratty. Exactly what I wanted to be right now. I ran a hand through my hair, fluffing it up just enough to look like I hadn’t tried too hard. Like this wasn’t all part of the plan.
I bit my lip, stepping back from the mirror. My heart raced, anticipation buzzing under my skin. I had time to kill before Brett got back, but waiting was the worst part. The clock on the wall ticked louder than usual, each second dragging slower than molasses. I flopped onto the couch, grabbed my phone, scrolled aimlessly, then tossed it aside. Nothing held my focus.
Finally, after what seemed like years, the sound of tires crunching in the gravel outside jolted me upright. I scrambled to my feet, smoothing my hands down my thighs. My pulse kicked into high gear as the front door opened, Brett stepping inside. He looked tired, his silver hair a little disheveled. The sight of him filled the room like he always did—big, solid, unshakable.
"Hey," I said, leaning casually against the arm of the couch, even though I felt anything but casual. "You look beat. Long day?"
"Marcus is picky," he replied with a crooked smile, dropping his keys on the table. His hazel eyes swept over me, lingering for half a beat longer than usual. "You look . . . comfortable."
"Do I?" I stretched my arms above my head, the move deliberate, knowing exactly how it’d make my crop top ride up.
"You certainly do," he said, tone dipping low, already catching on to the game I was playing. But he didn’t press it—not yet. Instead, he sighed and started toward the bedroom.
“Why don’t you change into something more comfortable?" I asked, innocent as I could.
“You think I need to change?”
"Mmmhmm. Especially your underwear," I added, fighting back a grin. "You should really, really do that."
That made him pause. He turned his head slightly,narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. Very suspicious. But he didn’t say a word, just shook his head and kept walking. The moment his footsteps faded, I darted across the living room, heading for his gym bag where I’d stashed his underwear earlier. My fingers brushed the sticky note I’d left in the drawer, and a giggle bubbled up as I pulled out a single pair—a crisp, tight set of white y-fronts.
On some guys, those might look a little silly. But on Brett, with his godly physique, they’d look incredible.
"Perfect," I whispered, holding them up like a trophy.
"Maisy," Brett called from the bedroom, his voice carrying that familiar edge of warning, undercut with just a hint of humor.
My stomach flipped. Showtime.
I peeked out from behind the doorway, holding Brett’s white y-fronts in one hand like a victory flag. My other hand gripped the doorframe as I leaned just enough into his line of sight to be seen. His head turned sharply toward me, catching on immediately.
"Ah. I see," he said, low and steady, the kind of tone that made my stomach flip. His hazel eyes locked on mine, narrowing, already tinged with that sternness that sent heat rushing through me.
I stuck out my tongue, wagging it at him before wiggling the underwear in my hand. "Looking for these . . . Daddy?"
His jaw tightened. Slowly, he straightened from where he’d been rifling through his drawers. The way he moved—controlled, deliberate—made my pulse hammer. He wasn’t mad. Not really. But oh, he was about to make me regret this.
“What do you think you’re doing, young lady?” His voice dropped even lower, rich with warning.
I swallowed. Hard. That thrill of nervous excitement—the one I’d been chasing all day—washed over me. My heart pounded against my ribs. This was exactly what I wanted.
"Me?" I asked, wide-eyed and innocent, though the smirk tugging at my lips gave me away. "It wasn’t me. It was the underwear fairy. I found them for you." I waved the underwear again, taking a step backward.
"Maisy." He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t need to. The weight of my name, spoken like that, hit me square in the chest. My toes curled against the hardwood floor.
"Look," I said, lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug. "You can have them.”
"Bring them here. Now."
“Hmmm. I don’t know.” I kept my eyes on his, a look of defiance on my face. Then, in one smooth movement, I pulled the white underwear over my head. “They fit me pretty good.”
“Young lady, I’m giving you one chance.”
"Mm, nah. Don’t think so. I’m bored, Brett. Actually"—I stepped fully into the hallway, giving him a twirl so the hem of my shorts rode up—"I’m in charge today."
"Is that right?" He crossed his arms, leaning back against the dresser. For a second, I thought he might let me have this little rebellion. But then he tilted his head, that assessing look making my skin prickle. "Maisy, don’t test me."
"Or what?" I grinned, backing down the hall. "You can’t catch me."
"Maisy," he warned again, but I was already gone, darting toward the stairs.
"Come and get them, Daddy!" I called over my shoulder, giggling as I bolted down the steps.
He was on me faster than I expected, his heavy boots thudding against the wood as he gave chase. I zigzagged around the living room, dodging the coffee table and couch, stolen underwear still firmly on my head. My breath came fast, laughter bubbling out of me uncontrollably.
"Maisy!" His voice carried both amusement and exasperation now.
"Too slow!" I teased, darting toward the far side of the room.
"Keep talking," he said, the promise in his tone making my knees weak.
He lunged. I squealed, twisting out of his reach, nearly toppling a lamp in the process. "Careful, firefighter! You break it, you buy it!"
"Maisy," he growled, closing the gap between us.
"Still too slow!" I taunted, even as my legs burned from running circles around him.
But then he shifted tactics. Instead of chasing, he stopped abruptly, waiting, watching. I hesitated for half a second too long, trying to predict his next move—and that was all he needed.
"Gotcha," he murmured as his arm looped around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
"Cheater!" I gasped, breathless and grinning.
"Cheater?" His hazel eyes sparkled, though his expression stayed stern. "You’ve been begging for this all day, Maisy."
"Have not!"
"Don’t lie to me, baby girl." His grip tightened just enough to make me feel deliciously trapped, his hand pressing firm against the small of my back.
"Fine," I whispered, tilting my chin up defiantly. "Maybe I have."
"Then you know what’s coming next," he said, his voice dropping to that deep, commanding register that made goosebumps rise along my arms. He reached up and plucked the underwear from my head. “Got them,” he said, before putting the underwear on his own head.
I let out a huge snort of a laugh.
“Back where they belong,” he said, through laughter of his own.
“You look so funny,” I said.
“Laugh it up,” he replied, “get it out of your system, because things are about to get serious.”
My grin faltered, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Anticipation coiled tight in my belly. I nodded, barely able to breathe.
“Yes, Daddy.”
"Good," he said simply, his thumb brushing once over my hipbone before he steered me toward the sofa.
Brett guided me to the couch, his touch gentle but unyielding. He pulled the underwear off my head.
"I've thought of a better use for these," he said. Before I could protest, he'd stretched them, then looped the fabric around my wrists, binding them together.
"Brett," I whispered, a thrill zipping down my spine.
"Shh." He laid a finger against my lips. "You wanted to play, Maisy. Now it's time to face the consequences."
With careful hands, he positioned me over his lap, my bound wrists stretched above my head. Cool air tickled my skin as he slid my shorts down, exposing me. I shivered, equal parts nerves and need.
His palm smoothed over my bare cheeks, and I held my breath, waiting. The first swat landed, sharper than I expected. I yelped, instinctively trying to wriggle away, but his arm locked around my waist, keeping me in place.
"Settle," he warned, his voice low. "We're just getting started."
Another spank, then another. Heat bloomed across my skin, a delicious sting that sent sparks straight to my core. I whimpered, toes curling, as he settled into a rhythm.
It bordered on too much, skating that sweet edge between pain and pleasure. Tears pricked my eyes. My body trembled with the effort of accepting what he gave. But god, I'd never felt so safe, so cherished, even as he pushed me to my limits.
"You're doing beautifully," Brett murmured, his free hand carding through my hair. "Just a little more. Can you handle that for me?"
"Yes," I breathed, blinking away tears. "Yes, Daddy."
The final flurry of spanks landed, and I cried out, a ragged sound that verged on a sob. The physical sensations blurred with the emotional release, a tide of feeling I couldn't control. As the last echoes faded, I sagged against the arm of the couch, spent and shaking.
"I've got you," Brett soothed, gathering me into his arms. He shifted us until I was cradled in his lap, my head tucked beneath his chin. "You're safe, baby girl. I'm right here."
I clung to him, tears dampening his shirt. He stroked my back, my hair, whispering sweet reassurances. Slowly, my breathing steadied, syncing with the rise and fall of his chest. The tears subsided, replaced by a bone-deep contentment, a weightlessness I'd never known.
"Thank you," I murmured, tipping my head back to meet his gaze. His hazel eyes were soft, filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache.
"Always," he promised, brushing a kiss to my forehead. "You're perfect, Maisy. Everything I never knew I needed. Even with my underwear on your head."
I shifted in his lap, suddenly aware of the hard press of him against my thigh. Heat unfurled low in my belly, a different kind of need taking hold. Brett's breath hitched, his fingers flexing on my hip.
"Maisy . . ." He said my name like a warning and a plea all at once.
I wet my lips, heart hammering. "I want you," I whispered, half-afraid of my own daring. "All of you. Please, Daddy."
I took a shaky breath, meeting Brett's heated gaze. "I want this, want you. So much it scares me sometimes. But I trust you, completely."
He cupped my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. "If it's ever too much, you tell me. Promise me, Maisy."
"I promise." I turned my head, pressing a kiss to his palm. "I need you, Brett. Need to feel you."
A low groan rumbled in his chest. In one fluid motion, he stood, scooping me into his arms. I looped my arms around his neck as he carried me down the hall to his bedroom, never taking his eyes off mine.
He laid me on the bed with a reverence that stole my breath. Slowly, he stripped off his clothes, revealing the body I'd only glimpsed in stolen moments. Sculpted muscle, dusted with dark hair, his chest rising and falling heavily.
My gaze drifted lower and I couldn't stifle a gasp. He was . . . huge. Thick and heavy, straining towards his belly. Equal parts nerves and desire twisted in my gut.
"We'll go slow," he promised, crawling onto the bed. He settled between my thighs, a delicious weight. Skin to skin, nothing between us.
I reached between our bodies, fingers grazing his silky length. He hissed, hips rocking into my touch as I explored him. The contrast—hard as steel beneath baby-soft skin—was intoxicating.
"My god, Maisy." His forehead dropped to mine, eyes squeezing shut. "The things you do to me . . ."
Emboldened, I wrapped my fingers around him, stroking root to tip. A bead of moisture gathered at the head and I smoothed it with my thumb, mesmerized.
He captured my mouth in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep. I whimpered, arching beneath him, craving more. His hand skated down my body, calloused fingers rasping my skin, igniting sparks in their wake.
He cupped me, groaning at the slick heat he found. "So wet for me already, baby girl."
"Always," I panted, head tipping back as he parted my folds, circling my entrance. "Please, Daddy. I need—"
He pressed a finger inside and I keened, clenching greedily around the unfamiliar fullness. Somehow, the lingering sting of the spanking heightened every sensation, erased any hint of shyness. I was laid bare before him, seen and cherished.
"You're perfect," Brett rasped, crooking his fingers, finding a spot that made me see stars. "My sweet, brave girl. I've got you, Maisy. Let go for me."
Brett withdrew his fingers, leaving me aching and empty, but only for a moment. He notched the broad head of his cock at my entrance, eyes seeking mine in silent question.
I nodded, heart in my throat. "Yes. Please, I want you."
With a flex of his hips, he pushed inside, slow and steady, letting me adjust to his size.
I gasped at the stretch, the delicious burn as he filled me completely. He stilled, buried to the hilt, letting me catch my breath.
"You okay?" he asked, brushing off a stray hair from my forehead.
I nodded, desperate for friction. "Move, please."
His eyes darkened with desire and he pulled back slowly, then thrust back in just as gradually. It was a torturous pace but I didn't want it to end.
He leaned down and kissed me deeply as his hips began to move in earnest. Each stroke was deliberate and deep, hitting all the right spots inside of me. I wrapped my legs around him, urging him closer.
Brett's movements became more frantic as his control slipped away. He grunted with each thrust and I reveled in the primal sounds escaping his lips.
"More," I begged, rocking my hips up to meet his.
At my words, Brett growled low in his throat and picked up speed. Our bodies slapped together loudly and he reached between us to rub my clit in tight circles.
The world narrowed to the slide of our bodies, the ragged symphony of our breaths, the coiling tension low in my belly. I was lost to it, to him, swept away on a tide of sensation.
"That's it," he growled, angling his hips to hit a spot that made me keen. "Take what you need, baby girl. I've got you."
His fingers found my clit, circling in time with his thrusts, and I shattered. My back bowed, head thrashing as ecstasy crashed through me in wave after wave. Distantly, I heard Brett's answering groan, felt the hot pulse of his release deep inside me.
We collapsed together, sweat-slicked and sated, hearts galloping in tandem. Brett gathered me close, pressing reverent kisses to my hair, my temple.
Then, he said something that took my breath away. "I love you," he rasped, voice raw with emotion. "God, Maisy, I love you so much it terrifies me."
Tears pricked my eyes. I cupped his face, memorizing every beloved line and plane. I had to reply. Had to be honest. "I love you too, Brett. More than anything."
We dozed like that, limbs twined, basking in the afterglow. The future was uncertain, but in that perfect, crystalline moment, I had everything I ever wanted.
A sudden, sharp knock shattered the honeyed silence. We jolted upright, exchanging panicked glances.
“Who’s that?”
"Brett? Are you in there?" It was a voice that made my blood run cold. “Wake up! Maisy’s not at home!”
It was Dad.
Ice flooded my veins. He wasn't supposed to be back yet, we thought we had more time, how could we possibly explain—
The doorknob rattled and my heart stopped. This was it. The horrible, inevitable moment our secret finally unraveled, threatening to destroy everything we'd built.
I clutched Brett's hand like a lifeline and braced for impact.