21. Maybe Trust Someone
Ileaned away, giving us both space before the thin hold I had on myself was gone. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking that there aren’t enough lobster stories in the world,” Mila said with a little huff that shot straight to my dick.
“About this.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t ignore my order or claim it was nothing. “I read some stuff.”
I kept my response just as vague since that could mean anything from her horoscope to restraining orders. “Okay.”
“And I, uh, have questions.” She barely looked at me as she toyed with the hem of her dress. I doubted she even realized how badly she tormented me with each flash of her thigh. “You said you want me to call you Daddy all the time.”
It wasn’t a question, but I confirmed. “That’s right.”
“And do what you say all the time.”
Again, it wasn’t a question, but I answered, “In a way.”
She shot me an exasperated glare.
“I’m not going to micromanage your whole day. You’d have your rules. The occasional extra order. But unless I have plans for you, how you spend your time is up to you.”
“Okay, so how would that work once I move out?”
“Easy. You won’t be.”
“I have to. I need to get back to my life. My apartment.” Her face scrunched, and I could see and hear the stress spiking. “I haven’t even started looking for a new job.”
“You don’t need one.”
Mila reared back, looking more shocked and outraged by that than anything else we’d talked about. “I can’t just not work. I’ve been doing it since I was thirteen and getting paid under the table.”
“Then it sounds like you need a break,” I said when what I really wanted to do was time travel back and shake the shit out of the adults in her life.
“I don’t want a break.”
“Did you love what you did at The Roulette? Was it your dream job? The best way you could imagine spending the day?”
“Well, no, but that doesn’t matter. Most people hate their jobs, but they still have to?—”
I twirled my finger in her hair and gave a gentle tug. “You’re not most people.”
Not anymore.
Not if you say yes.
Her pouty lips bowed into a frown that I wanted to kiss away.
Or fuck away.
“I can’t just take time off. It’ll make it impossible to find something new once we’re…” Her words trailed off, but I knew what she was thinking.
I wasn’t sure if I was more pissed that she was already planning the end or amused that she thought she had a choice once she agreed to be mine.
“This would be a different conversation if you had your dream career, but we both know that’s not the case. And my woman isn’t going to be on her hands and knees, cleaning jizz stains out of a hotel carpet.” She opened her mouth, but I cut in. “And if you’re thinking that’s not something that happens at the nice resorts, you’re wrong. Nebula is one of the best places in all of Vegas, it costs a shit-ton a night, and we’ve got a diplomat who was banned for leaving a room covered in piss. It was on the damn ceiling.” Mila already looked green at that, but I still tacked on, “And that’s not the worst story I have.”
“It was… why? Was he drunk, or was the bathroom broken?”
“It’s a kink.”
She grimaced at the visual and moved on. “If I’m not working, what would I do?”
“You want to pick up a hobby, great. You want to take some classes, also great—so long as your schedule is flexible around mine.” She opened her mouth to argue further, but I reminded, “I already told you I’d be selfish with your time.”
She remained silent while she thought that over for a minute. “When we… When things are done, will you pass along my résumé to the housekeeping department at one of the hotels?” She didn’t give me the chance to respond before she amended, “Not necessarily at Black Resorts since that’d be awkward. I’m fine with any you have connections with.”
A few things struck me.
For one, she could’ve asked me to guarantee her a job. Instead, she just wanted me to hand off her résumé.
For another, she could’ve asked me to guarantee her a job working reception, in the offices, or, hell, as a fucking showgirl. Instead, she hadn’t tried to take advantage.
But I focused on the most important part.
No longer amused, my fingers that’d been playing in her long dark hair fisted. She turned her wide eyes to me as I tugged harder. “Gotta say, sunshine, I’m not big on your use of the word when.” At her lowered brows, I explained, “That’s twice in this conversation alone that you’ve talked about when this is over. Kinda hurts my ego that you’re ending shit in your head before you’ve even agreed to anything.”
“Sorry.”
“Mila.”
“Sor…” She smiled shyly. “I’m a planner.”
I went back to gently playing with her hair. “That’s fine. Plan something else. Not that.”
“Right,” she whispered.
“What other questions do you have?”
I watched as she started to shift before catching herself. “Would you tell me what to do in the bedroom?”
In the bedroom. The office. The kitchen counter.
This couch, if the conversation goes well.
I didn’t say any of that out loud and turned it on her. “Would you like me to?”
Her small but immediate nod sent a surge of blood to my dick. “I, uh, don’t really have much experience, so I think it’d be reassuring to know I’m doing the right thing. I’ve always been a quick learner, so?—”
“Camila.”
Her words cut off as she looked at me.
And that made me harder.
“If you want to finish this conversation, you gotta stop torturing me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
That time, her smile wasn’t shy. It was a real, full smile that held a hint of satisfaction.
It boded well for the relationship but not for my sanity.
“What else?” I asked.
“Do you have any fetishes or kinks I should know about?”
Yes.
You saying fetishes or kinks.
Actually, just you. Full stop.
Again, I didn’t say it out loud. I should’ve let it fly so she knew exactly what she was getting into. But when it came to my growing obsession with her, I still held back.
At least until she agreed.
Moving my hand from her hair, I cupped the back of her head and pulled her closer. Even then, it wasn’t close enough, and I lifted her to straddle me with her ass on my knees. “New rule.”
She pulled her lip between her teeth and braced.
“If we’re sitting, you’re on my lap.”
“Okay.”
Okay.
Easy as that.
It took me a moment to remember her question—and that she hadn’t agreed to anything, so putting her on the coffee table and dropping to my knees to eat her pussy until she screamed wasn’t happening.
For then.
“The diplomat and I don’t share a piss kink, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I wasn’t, but it’s still reassuring to know.”
“I’m guessing you read about BDSM today.”
“I did.”
“I like the first two parts. BDS. Bondage and discipline. Dominance and submission. The other SM isn’t my thing.” I watched for a reaction that never came. “Most classify being a Daddy as a kink, but I don’t. It’s not something I role play. It’s not some added fun. It’s unconventional, sure, but it’s just who I am.”
She studied me, her words carefully nonchalant. “I read about how people do this to cope with a trauma.”
“I’m sure that’s true for some, but not in my case. There’s no reason for it. Nothing happened that triggered some big change. I’ve always been like this.” I thought about Juliet’s advice earlier. “That said, this isn’t an either-or situation.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not that either you get on board with what I like, or this doesn’t happen. You don’t just have a say in it, you hold the power. You decide whether you want to hand it over to me or not. I want this. I think it’ll fit and be good for both of us. But even if you don’t want me to be your Daddy, I still want you.”
Mila leaned back so far, she would’ve toppled off my lap had it not been for my hands on her waist. “You’d go vanilla for me?”
I lifted my chin. “Not saying it’ll be a one-eighty. I’m a bossy prick. I’ll want to spoil you. I’ll have suggested guidelines regarding your safety and well-being because I know how dangerous Vegas can be. But they won’t involve being bent over my lap if you don’t follow them.”
Of all the ways I’d have to change, that was the only part that didn’t sit well with me—and not just because I’d loved reddening Mila’s cute ass.
Her gaze went over my shoulder. “Wouldn’t you miss it or be unsatisfied?”
“Fuck no. I can’t deny that I liked hearing you say Daddy, and that I like control. I get off on it. But it’s not about making you do shit for me. It’s about knowing that you depended on and needed me.”
Mila took a shuddering inhale, but otherwise, her face was blank. “And you’d like that kind of neediness?”
“Can do without a lot of the other shit if it means having you, but that part is mandatory.” I tested my own control by tugging her closer so she could feel my hard cock stretching down my thigh. “I need you to need me.”
I wanted Mila to tell me she did so badly, I was close to begging.
I’d never begged before, but I’d also never volunteered to tone down the Daddy in me.
“What happens if I don’t like something you do?” she asked instead.
“Like buying you stuff?”
She shook her head.
“Spanking you?”
She shook her head again. “That wasn’t as bad as I thought. I don’t even know why I was crying so bad. It barely hurt.”
I knew why. It was a release of all the emotions and frustrations she kept bottled up. A tiny fraction of that weight on her shoulders being melted away.
One side of my mouth curved up. “I can fix that.”
“No, no. I’m good.” She tilted her head. “Just, like, other stuff. What happens if I don’t like something?”
Rather than answer, I asked a question that we needed to discuss anyway. “Is there something you don’t think you’d like?”
She averted her eyes and looked at the buttons on my shirt like they were the most interesting thing in the world.
I wanted them back, but it was obvious she was gathering her nerve to say something more important.
Her hands trembled as she quietly spoke. “I can’t stand yelling or name-calling. I read that some people like being called degrading names, and that’s great for them, but I… I…”
Seeing and feeling how overwrought she was becoming, I gently grabbed her chin. “Name-calling beyond brat or little girl isn’t my thing. I already know you don’t like the first one, so that’s out.”
“I’m not exactly wild about the second one, either,” she muttered, though her wobbly smile said otherwise. “But it’s fine.”
“As far as yelling, I can’t guarantee you won’t hear me if I’m working from home, but I promise to always do it in a different room.”
She visibly deflated. “You don’t have to do that. Just don’t aim it at me. Though I’d rather get screamed at than get the silent treatment.”
“I’d never do either one.”
“I’m okay with you not talking, but if I say something, and you ignore me…”
“I would never ignore you. I could never ignore you. It’s not something you have to worry about.” When she didn’t add more, I prompted, “What else?”
“I’m not comfortable with being, um, shared.”
I reflexively tightened my hold and didn’t bother trying to loosen it. “That’s okay because I sure as fuck don’t share. Ever.” Hoping it was the correct bet, I showed a glimpse of my possessive cards. “When I say I’m going to be greedy with your time, I mean to the point where you won’t have a second to even think about anyone else.” I didn’t hesitate before adding, “And that already goes both ways. Anything else?”
“The spanking was fine, but anything like actual hitt?—”
“Won’t happen.”
“But what if I make you really mad?”
“No level of mad would make me hit you. Or any other woman, for that matter. If you do something to earn a punishment, and emotions are running too high, it waits. We step away. Take a deep breath. We talk about it until you feel comfortable. If you feel comfortable. But even in the heat of the moment, I have control of myself. They’ll feel never-ending, but my spank count is accurate. They’ll never be hard enough to do damage. And they end the second they’re over. Whatever you did to earn them is done and forgiven, and we move on.”
Her lips tipped. “I had briefly wondered if they’d last forever.”
“Now imagine when I’m not taking it easy on you because, fair warning, I was. If there’s a next time, it’ll hurt worse. Depending on the infraction, you might get more of them, or they might be mixed with other punishments that you also won’t like.”
“Such as?”
“Ropes. Edging. Complete orgasm denial.”
“That’s not that bad,” she said more to herself than me.
Famous last words, little girl.
“But whatever it is, we’ll talk it through first. Handing out punishments is part of being a Daddy?—”
“Why, though?”
Since she’d done more than a two-second browse online, she likely knew the answer to that. I got the feeling she wanted my specific answer and not a generalized one.
“None of the rules are arbitrary. They serve a purpose, and usually it’s to protect someone’s safety or well-being.”
“And sitting on your lap is…”
“For my emotional well-being.”
Mila rolled her eyes, but it didn’t bother me. Even if she said yes, it wouldn’t be a rule that she couldn’t do it. It wasn’t hurting anyone.
And I liked the show of comfort in her defiance. It was better than her forcing herself to shrink because she didn’t want to be a bother.
“If you agree, these rules are to keep you or our relationship safe. I wouldn’t be a good Daddy by letting them go broken like they don’t matter because then it means protecting you and the relationship doesn’t, either. Like the praise I’ll give, it’s another way to show I care about you and what we have, that I value the trust you’ve given to me, and that I’m doing my job to protect all three.” I ran my hands along Mila’s thighs and squeezed. “Even if it’s from yourself.”
I barely finished my sentence before Mila moved suddenly. Not to push away or punch me in the dick for that last bit.
No.
Leaning up, Mila kissed me.
And sealed her fate.