Chapter 41
Goldie
She did not, in fact, go over his knee the second they got home.
Shortly after that particular decree, Naomi had announced the bullet was still lodged deep inside Rowan’s shoulder and he’d need surgery.
Which required calling her brother and some of his motorcycle buddies to help move Rowan to Naomi’s private clinic.
Between that, the twins showing up to dispose of the Russians—which, by some miracle, they’d managed to do before anyone innocent passersby had spotted them and called the cops—and Brody insisting Naomi check Goldie over before he’d let her leave the clinic, they’d both collapsed in bed pretty much as soon as they’d arrived home.
Now, however, something had woken her. Shifting in the dark, she turned to face Brody, her eyes struggling to force themselves open.
“No. No, no, no. Goldie.”
It was the sound of her own name, ripped from his lips and filled with terror that catapulted her back into the waking world. “Hey. Hey, I’m right here. I’m right here.”
Even in the dim light, she could see his eyes fly open. Could see the remnants of fear in the pale gray as he reached for her.
“Fuck.” Burying his face in her hair, he breathed deep, his entire body shuddering beneath her. “Need a minute.”
“Okay,” she assured him softly, pressing her cheek to his chest. “Take whatever you need.”
For several long minutes, they lay together, her half on top of him while he breathed through the lingering terror. When his breaths finally seemed to come more easily, she lifted her head. “Will you tell me about it?”
He didn’t want to. She could see it in his eyes that the last thing he wanted to do was burden her with his nightmare. And she was just about to tell him not to worry about it, despite how badly she ached to comfort him, when he spoke.
“It wasn’t anything special.” His voice was still rough, thick with sleep and emotion. “Just reliving the events of the day. Seeing the men I killed, watching them die all over again.”
In her books, the men who took lives never thought twice about it. Especially when they took those lives to save the ones they loved.
But she’d learned the hard way how very different fantasy was from the brutal reality of Brody’s world.
“I’m sorry you were put in that position,” she said quietly, lifting a hand to stroke the soft beard covering his jaw.
“And even sorrier it hurts you. They weren’t good men, Brody. They would have killed Rowan.”
“I know.”
There was a tight edge to his voice that told her the dream went deeper than he was letting on. “Was there something else? In the dream?”
He hesitated, long enough for her to know her instincts were right. “It wasn’t Rowan this time.”
The knife’s edge of his terror slid into her own heart, slicing it clean in two. “It was just a dream.”
“But next time, it might not be. I never should have…” Pressing his lips together, he closed his eyes and breathed deep. “You’d be safer with your father. Or getting out of this city altogether.”
“I’m not leaving you.” Just the thought was enough to freeze the air in her lungs. “And if you try to send me away, I’ll just keep coming back.”
To her shock, his lips curved up in a smile as his hand came up to cup her cheek. “Like a bad penny. My little menace.”
And just like that, she was flat on her back, staring up at him as he hovered over her. “I need you.”
Arching up, she offered her t-shirt covered breasts up to him. “You have me. I’m right here.”
“I know.” Dipping his head, he skimmed his teeth down the side of her neck. “My menace. My fucking miracle. I love you, Goldie.”
“And I love you. Now please stop talking and fuck me.”
His entire body vibrated with laughter as he slid a hand beneath her shirt, capturing a nipple between his fingers and squeezing tightly enough to have her crying out in shocked pain. “Demanding little brat. I think it’s time you learned who’s really in charge here.”
Dismay welled in her chest when he rolled off the bed and padded across the room in all his naked glory. “What’s that mean?”
Crouching beside an old steamer trunk, he flipped the latches open and lifted the lid. “It means, I’m going to hurt you, menace. And you’re not going to be able to stop me.”
Brody
For as long as he lived, he’d never forget the look on his babygirl’s face when he straightened and held up the leather cuffs and blindfold he’d pulled from the trunk. He had a few other items in mind, but first he wanted her bound. Trapped.
Helpless.
Slowly crossing the room, he held her gaze as he approached, watching with growing excitement as her breathing turned ragged and her eyes widened. “Arms up over your head.”
Bottom lip puffing out, she moved her arms into position. “What are you going to do?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he answered with a low laugh as he pulled her shirt up over her head and tossed it aside. “This is about teaching you that you aren’t actually in charge, remember?”
“I don’t see why that means I can’t know.”
Leaning over her, he wrapped the soft leather of the cuffs around one wrist and then the other before sliding the gold chain between the bars of his headboard. “Because, menace, you like to try to control things. And you need to learn that Daddy is always in control, even when you don’t like it.”
“But—”
“One more word and I’ll change my mind about not spanking you.” He could see the calculation in her eyes, so he continued. “And if I have to spank you for arguing with me, you won’t be allowed to come when I fuck you.”
That did the trick. Glaring up at him, she rolled her lips together, as if to physically prevent herself from speaking.
God, she was cute.
Satisfied she’d follow directions for now, he slipped the silk blindfold over her eyes. “Is it too tight?”
“No, Daddy.”
Already she sounded more submissive, and his cock stirred at the sound of his title on her lips. “Good girl. I’m going to get the rest of my supplies but I won’t go far. Daddy’s right here.”
He waited a beat, but she didn’t argue or seem distressed, so he turned to retrieve the rest of his tools from the trunk. Laying everything out on the nightstand, he grinned down at the naked, bound form on his bed.
“You’re so goddamned perfect. My pretty babygirl, all tied up and helpless and waiting for Daddy to hurt her.”
Without giving her time to answer, he gripped her hips, easily flipping her over onto her stomach. She let out a shocked squeak, and then another when he spread her bottom cheeks to pour a generous helping of lubricant onto her exposed hole.
“Daddy,” she whined, burying her face in the pillow beneath her. “Not there!”
“Yes here, my little menace.” Once her hole was coated, he rubbed slow circles around her entrance. This time it wasn’t a punishment, so he wanted to give her time, let her ease into it. “You’re supposed to be learning that you aren’t in charge, remember?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Her words were muffled, thanks to the pillow she still had her face buried in. It amused him to no end that even with the blindfold on she was trying to hide from what was happening.
Beneath his hand, her muscles slowly unlocked, allowing him in. “Good girl. One finger, then two, just like before. And then a plug so you feel nice and full when Daddy fucks you.”
Another low whine slipped from her as she wriggled against the sheets. For someone who wrote about butt stuff as often as she did and even had t-shirts joking about it, she was adorably embarrassed by the actual act.
He hoped that never changed.
With deliberate slowness, he worked one finger into her bottom, coating her inner walls with lubricant. His cock already ached to be inside her, to feel her sweet cunt clamping down around him as he fucked them both to oblivion.
But he had plans for his little menace. And he wouldn’t be rushed, not even by his own libido.
Around his finger, her asshole loosened, so he added a second, grinning down at her when she squealed and drummed her feet against the bed. “Poor little menace. Does it hurt, baby?”
“Yes! Yes, it hurts, you fucking sadist!”
“Oh. Well, I suppose I should stop, then.”
She froze at that, her legs going still. “What?”
“If it’s hurting that much, I should stop.” As if to demonstrate, he pulled his fingers from her bottom and reached for the plug he’d chosen.
“Oh, um, maybe it didn’t hurt too much,” she squeaked out when the thick head of the metal plug pressed against her glistening hole.
“No, no. You were very clear, menace. Daddy’s fingers were just too much for you to take.”
“That plug is like five times the size of your fingers!”
It wasn’t even close, but he was sure it felt like it as he slowly worked it into her bottom, stretching the poor little hole beyond what his fingers had managed.
All the while, his babygirl whined and whimpered and writhed, until at long last the plug slid home and she sighed, clearly relieved the worst was over.
Na?ve little menace. They were just getting started.