Chapter 2
2
Gage
Now that it’s dark, I put on the condom and lean over her. My jeans are still partially on, shoved down just enough. I wonder if the denim scrapes her skin, if she likes it.
Slowly, I feed my cock into her wet heat. Once I’m fully sheathed, my pelvis is nestled against her ass cheeks, nudging the plug forward. Leah moans.
I push forward again to make sure she really feels the plug. “Next time, it’ll be me in your ass, only I’ll be moving. And Dmitri’s cock will be buried in your tight little cunt like mine is now.”
She whimpers into the mattress, which shakes as she moves her head back and forth like no, no, no .
I run a hand down her spine. “Are we green, little one?”
“Yes, Daddy. Green.”
I love being her daddy. It has added a new dynamic to our scenes. I love punishing, but I also love caretaking and being the voice of authority. It works so well with Leah.
I stroke slowly in and out. Her cunt hugs me perfectly, extra tight because of the plug in her ass. In the darkness, all I can sense is the soft feeling of her skin, the lustful sounds of her whimpers, the candy-sweet scent of her body.
Another stroke. “You like this, don’t you?”
“Mmm…” She sounds doubtful.
She doesn’t want to commit to it, stubborn girl.
I pull almost all the way out and hold there. She doesn’t react at first, then she tries to push back.
I give her ass a gentle swat, no heat behind it. “Tell me you like it. Tell me how much you like the pretty plug filling up your little hole.”
“Daddy, no.” She sounds scandalized. “I can’t.”
“Then I guess we stop.” I make a tsk sound and lean back, pulling all the way out of her cunt.
“Okay fine, I like it!” She tries to follow me, but I swat her again.
My voice is lower, darker. “Tell me you love it.”
“I love it,” she whispers, so faint I almost don’t hear her.
“Louder, little girl. Say, I love the plug in my asshole, Daddy nice and loud so I can hear.”
Her answering sound is half whine, half whimper. Then, “I love the plug in my asshole, Daddy.”
She must have raised her head to say it loudly.
“Such a good girl for Daddy.” I band an arm around her ribcage as I slide into her waiting cunt once more. I drag her up with me so we’re both kneeling on the bed, upright.
“Oh, fuck ,” she gasps. “Right there, Gage—Daddy—yes?—”
I stroke in and out, pumping into her. I put my hand on her neck, possessive. My girl, my perfect little girl. I will love her forever and ever, believing in us enough until she can see it, too.
“Daddy,” she cries, bucking back, that jeweled plug base warm and hard against my skin. Her cunt ripples around me, wringing pleasure from the base of my cock to the tip. “I’m coming—Daddy.”
“Right now, with me.”
I finish with a groan, plunging in to the hilt, cock pulsing as I release into the condom. I hold Leah’s hip so hard, I fear I’ll bruise her, but her cunt is gripping me so tight, so snug, I can’t let go.
“My good girl,” I whisper. “So good, sweetheart. I love you. You’re amazing. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She turns her head, searching for a kiss. I give her one, our lips fumbling together in the dark against the awkward angle.
I pull out reluctantly, deal with the condom, and go into the bathroom for a damp washcloth. I turn the lamp back on and get Leah cleaned up, removing the plug while she grimaces.
“You liked it.” I pat her bare ass cheek. “You loved it.”
She spins around, moving carefully, and gives me a prim look. “I tolerated it.”
“You loved it.”
“Yes.” She turns around so she can kiss my cheek. “I loved it.”
Sweet girl. I take care of the toy and washcloth. Afterward, I remove my jeans and return to bed, sliding in beside her.
“I love you, my precious little girl.” I wrap my arms around her.
She smiles. “I love you, too.”
Now that I have a closer look at her face, I see she’s been crying. “Wait, what happened? Did I hurt you? Was I too overbearing?”
“No, you didn’t hurt me. I promise. I needed you to take charge.”
“Then why did you cry?” I ask.
She gives me a soft smile. “It’s just overwhelming sometimes. I think about how great it is.”
Unspoken are the words I know she’s thinking—that it’s great now, but she doesn’t believe it can be forever.
“I’ll prove to you that our love is everlasting.” I pet her hair, smooth the tears off her cheeks, stroke her skin. The ultimate proof, the request, appears in my head like fog has lifted. I know what to say—I know exactly what to say. “Marry me, Leah.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do. I don’t think I’ve meant anything more than this.”
Her shoulders shake, her chin crumples.
“Leah, I love you, and I want to marry you.”
“I love you, too,” she sobs. “But I can’t.”
* * *
Leah
Last night, Gage proposed . Yeah, it was spur-of-the-moment. Not the grand gesture I see in rom-coms. Not the thought-out speech complete with a shining ring and a diamond the size of my head.
Instead, he’d cleaned me up after shoving a plug in my ass and fucking me until I cried. That’s when the man I love asked me to marry him.
For some reason, that’s exactly the kind of proposal I want.
But I couldn’t say yes. Still can’t. To him, marriage and love are forever. To me, they’re just a way to get your hopes up before everything comes crashing down.
He dried my tears last night, and he hasn’t brought it up again. But I could see it on his mind while we drank our coffee and tea together this morning.
Now I’m opening the door for my first Ironwood bodyguard, who will escort me to Olivia’s Youth Arts after-school program.
“Hey, I’m Cora.” The tall bodyguard shakes my hand, then Gage’s, and we go through the introductions. She has cropped black hair, medium-brown skin, and green eyes. She’s gorgeous and looks strong enough to throw me and Gage over her shoulders and ferry us to safety.
I kiss Gage goodbye, and then Cora and I are off. We’re taking Gage’s car because he has deemed mine as too flimsy. If he didn’t look so stressed out when bringing it up, I might have fought him on it. But there’s no denying the real worry in his eyes.
Cora insists on driving. Two weeks. Two weeks with a babysitter, and I’m going to see it as the act of love and concern I know it to be. I can humor Gage’s paranoia for that long. After all, his ex was just murdered. The least I can do is let an Ironwood bodyguard shadow me for fourteen days.
I still think he should hire a detail for himself. Does he think he’s invincible? I text him, knowing that it’ll annoy him to receive a text in the first place, and a nagging one at that. The thought fills me with perverse pleasure.
The Youth Arts program takes place in a large warehouse in the Bellefleur district. It’s not the best part of the city, but the building itself is surrounded by plenty of lights. The landscaping has even been rehabilitated from its former abandoned-factory aesthetic to include flowering shrubs and fruit trees.
Even better, a mural spans the front of the building, depicting an outer-space setting with planets, rocket ships, aliens, and astronauts. There’s no cohesive art style, showing that this was truly a collective effort. And it works. The mishmash of styles and palettes adds to the appeal.
“I love this place,” I whisper.
Cora smiles. She isn’t very talkative, but she gives off strong competence vibes.
We go inside. Cora waits near the door, at a table and stool that seem to have been set up for just this purpose. Olivia’s husbands probably gave her a head’s up that I’d be coming in with one of their guards today.
I meet with my first cohort of high-school juniors. A few of them already took the PSATs and have a rough idea of what the SATs will be like—but there’s a large range of experience and expectations. It’s easy to lose myself in the work. The teens have excellent questions and it seems like they’re learning a ton. They soak everything up like sponges. I love the way their eyes shine with pride whenever they figure something out on their own.
My one-on-one tutoring work is rewarding and I won’t ever give it up. But in this program, I’ve found a second avenue for helping teenagers with their academic work. It’s also exactly where I need to be.
I end our session feeling energized and excited about coming here again next week.
As I’m grabbing my bag from the staff room, Cora appears in the doorway. “You have a visitor.”
“Oh, thanks. I’ll be right there.” I look past her, expecting to see Gage or Dmitri.
Instead, it’s a face I’ve never seen in person before—although I’ve seen her as a succubus on Academy of Ghosts .
Claudia McAvoy.