Chapter Fourteen
Happy Birthday
Juliet
“ H APPY BIRTHDAY!”
There was nothing happy about any of my birthdays, but especially not that one. I wanted to climb back into bed, pull the covers over my head, and pretend the day—and the entirety of the outside world—didn’t exist.
When I’d gotten up, Ms. Vera had been waiting in my sitting room with breakfast and a birthday hug.
“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile I did not feel.
She gestured to the couch, a little bounce in her step as she moved. “Sit. Eat.”
She seems extra chipper.
I, on the other hand, was a gloomy cloud raining on my own parade.
The dreaded day had arrived.
I was eighteen.
An adult.
Able to live on my own, make my own way, all that jazz.
It was time to leave.
“What’s the, uh, plan ?” I asked.
She pointed at the food. “Eat. It’s a little chilly, but Cole already adjusted the pool temp so you can swim.”
I smiled, and it was only a little forced.
Of course, they’re not going to boot me out on my birthday.
I would have to ask again later because I needed time to plan and pack. For right then, though, I’d greedily savor my last day in paradise.
Lifting the dome off the tray, the smell of Cajun seasoning and jalapenos burned my nose and made my mouth water. Along with the spicy omelet, there was a piece of toast, a bowl of strawberry and banana slices, and coffee.
A big mug of coffee.
All my favorites.
Happy birthday to me.
Maximo
Heading to talk to Freddy, I stopped as Juliet came out of the kitchen, her strawberry-blond hair in a high ponytail and her body barely covered by a white bikini. She didn’t notice me as she turned toward the backdoor, giving me a view of her rounded ass cheeks peeking out.
Since that meant Freddy had gotten the same view, I clenched my jaw. “Having fun, little dove?”
She spun around, and her startled gasp went straight to my cock. As did the way she breathed, “Maximo.”
Christ, what I wouldn’t give to hear her say my name like that when I’m buried deep inside her.
“Having fun?” I repeated.
She nodded, that damn ponytail bobbing.
“Good.” I was about to turn away when my gaze caught on something.
As I closed the distance, Juliet backed away until she was pressed against the wall, her green eyes locked on me like a pretty doe eyeing a circling wolf. That didn’t put me off.
It turned me on.
I only stopped when I was close enough to count the freckles smattered across her nose. Slowly, I skimmed my bent finger down her side, her skin so damn soft.
As I reached the hem of her bikini bottoms, her breath hitched.
With fear?
Or something much different?
I ran my thumb along the thin, puckered scar above her hip bone.
I knew what it was.
I had enough of them.
I’d given even more.
Still, I rumbled, “Where’d you get this scar, little dove?”
She swallowed hard, her voice uneven when she lied, “I don’t remember.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
She hesitated before admitting, “My dad owed money. They came after me as a warning to him.”
“Who’d he owe?”
“Everyone,” she said with a small, sardonic laugh. “But in this case, it was the Sullivans.”
The Sullivans were small-time loan sharks and big-time gun runners.
“Didn’t Patrick Sullivan box with Shamus?”
She nodded. “That’s why they let me off easy.”
She thinks that’s getting off easy?
“Patrick did it?” I asked.
“No, one of his goons.”
“Is he dead?”
If her piece-of-shit father had cared about anything other than himself and his vices, he’d have slaughtered the bastard responsible in a way that made it clear Juliet was off limits.
Her pretty eyes went wide at my question. “Not that I know of.”
“He will be.”
She shook her head, but it wasn’t an objection to the violence. “It wasn’t worth the headache.”
How badly did Shamus fuck her up that she thinks she’s not worth it?
I gripped her hip and stooped so my eyes were level with hers.
When she tried to glance away, I ordered, “Look at me.” Once I had her eyes again, I spoke slow and clear so there was no misunderstanding.
“No one hurts you. If they do, I’ll make sure they spend the limited time they have left on earth regretting it.
It will not be a headache. I’ll enjoy making it clear what happens to anyone stupid enough to touch you. ”
“This conversation is insane,” she whispered.
“No, what’s insane is you thinking a knife to the gut isn’t worth retaliation.”
“Dad said it would mean war with them.”
“Then I’ll start a fucking war ‘cause you’re sure as fuck worth it. You need someone to take care of you.”
Her spine straightened as she lifted that stubborn chin of hers. “I can take care of myself. I always have.”
“And that’s exactly the fucking problem.” My plans to ease her in shot right out the damn window. Seeing the residual pain, betrayal, and sadness that shadowed her eyes, I muttered, “Fuck, you need a Daddy bad.”
Juliet scoffed, rolling her eyes. “No, thanks. I had a dad and he caused more than enough problems.”
“I didn’t say a dad. I said a Daddy .”
Her eyes went big as her full lips parted. Chest rising and falling, she shook her head. “I know Shamus fucked me up, but I don’t have daddy issues. I’m not that damaged and dysf—”
“Watch your words carefully, Juliet. This has nothing to do with dysfunction and everything to do with letting someone take care of you for once. And based on the way your pulse is pounding, you know that.”
“I’m not interested in that kind of thing,” she claimed, despite her body’s reaction contradicting her words.
“Don’t lie to me. More importantly, don’t lie to yourself.”
I couldn’t stop myself.
I didn’t even try.
Giving in to the twisted need that’d haunted me for a whole fucking year, I pressed my mouth to her lie-filled one in a hard kiss.
She tasted like sunshine and Diet Coke, and I wanted to plunge my tongue in and memorize the flavor.
But I didn’t.
Pulling away, I stepped back. “We’ll talk more later.”
Dazed, she nodded before hurrying out the backdoor.
I’d done the honorable thing.
I’d waited for her birthday.
I’d been patient.
And I was done.
Juliet
A Daddy.
He kissed me.
A freaking Daddy.
What’d that mean?
He freaking kissed me.
What did that mean?
My thoughts whipped around as I sat in the hot tub. My muscles were so tight, it was a wonder my bones didn’t turn to dust. I was tense and confused and surprised and…
Needy.
I was needy and restless and the kind of hot that had nothing to do with the water temp and everything to do with the thrumming between my legs.
God, for such a quick kiss, it’d been amazing. Intense. Controlling. As dominating as his personality.
I couldn’t deny I wanted Maximo. Ever since the first night I’d thought of him while I’d touched myself, he’d turned into a secret fantasy.
An unattainable fantasy.
Or so I’d thought.
But thanks to his abrupt change—going from avoiding me to kissing me—I wasn’t so sure he was as cold and unattainable as I’d believed. Add in his Daddy comment, and I wasn’t even sure which way was up anymore.
Giving up on relaxing, I climbed out and wrapped a towel around myself. Maximo had said we’d talk more, and before that happened, I needed to get my racing thoughts together.
And that meant I needed to do some research.
I was relieved I didn’t run into him as I hurried to my room because there was no way I’d be able to hide how affected I was by our conversation or his kiss.
Grabbing my MacBook, I started by Googling the most important thing.
Daddy kink equals daddy issues?
I was relieved to see that, like Maximo had claimed, it had nothing to do with anything revolting. Therapists and experts agreed it was about the power dynamic of one partner being in charge and the other being submissive, with an emphasis on care and nurturing.
I wasn’t sure about all that, but I was relieved it wasn’t indicative of some secret desire that would have made me barf up everything I’d ever eaten in my entire life.
Broadening my search, I skipped past the erotica that came up and focused on the real-life blogs and articles.
All of it was gross.
It did nothing for me.
It was wrong .
That’s how I should have felt.
Because in actuality, there was a lot I found appealing.
It did so much for me, I couldn’t stop from shifting and squeezing my thighs together.
And even if my brain was trying to tell me it was wrong, the idea of Maximo taking care of me the way the blogs described filled me with this sense of… rightness.
Not that I was into all the things people described. I knew I would hate any form of humiliation. Trading partners or sharing made me feel sick and pissed off. And I didn’t judge, but age play was definitely not for me.
After a while, my head was swimming with information, and I felt even more confused than when I’d started researching.
Did Maximo want a sugar daddy thing? Was he into age play?
Did he want to trade his partner or watch them with others?
Was he a Dom who liked the occasional ‘scene’?
There’d been a couple guys at the gym whose girls had called them papi, and those guys were selfish assholes who slept with anything that breathed.
Maybe Maximo just liked being called Daddy and there was nothing more to it.
I wasn’t sure it would do anything for me, but I could probably just say it for him.
That was, of course, if I decided to do it.
It was not a one-size-fits-all kink, and there were so many variables and variations. I couldn’t decide if I was interested until I found out what he was interested in.
Someone knocked on the door, and I slammed the laptop closed like I’d been looking at something dirty.
Which I kinda had.
Ms. Vera opened the door and tsked. “You’re still in your suit. Go get ready.”
“For what?”
“Go shower.” She shooed me. “Hurry.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, rushing into the bathroom to shower.