4. Chapter Four #3
I cleared my throat as Savannah disappeared into the laundry room. “You should call it an early night,” I told Bailey.
It was delivered in about as casual a tone as possible, but the words still struck my babygirl like a thunderbolt.
“You think so?” she asked, spots of color rising to her cheeks.
“Oh my God,” McKenna muttered. “Bailey, you’re too much…”
I didn’t listen. Neither did my babygirl.
“I know so,” I said, fixing her with a knowing look. “Shut your screens off, go run yourself a bath, and be in bed by ten.” I leaned in closer, dropping my voice as the sound of the washer clicked on. “That’s an order.”
Bailey’s jaw dropped open. “Yes, sir,” she whimpered, squirming in her seat. Then, so quietly that I more or less had to read her lips: “Which bed?”
I glanced through the wall at the laundry room. “Yours,” I said, feeling a pang of regret. “Get a good night’s sleep. You’ve got a big lunch tomorrow.”
It was a measure of what a good girl she was that Bailey didn’t argue. “Then that’s exactly what I’ll do,” she said, straightening up a bit and giving McKenna a look. “Thank you for the advice, Tom.”
McKenna rolled her eyes at Bailey, then smirked at me. “Watching you grow a spine has been the most fun part of this whole thing, Mr. C. The next time you run into Debbie, she’s not going to know what hit her—”
“And you,” I said, turning to McKenna. “Finish whatever battle you’re stuck on, save your game, and shut it down. You’ve been staying up half the night all week—tonight, you’re getting some rest.”
McKenna let out a disbelieving laugh. “You serious right now?”
I just stared at her. Waiting.
And after a few seconds, I saw it. A tremor—one that would have been incomprehensible to the old Tom, but was very familiar to me now—shot through the young woman’s body.
“Yeah. Sure.” She looked over at Bailey, a big grin on her face. “Wednesday,” she mouthed. “Gonna be insane.”
None of us disagreed on that.
The rest of the night elapsed quietly for me. I busied myself with a book I’d picked up during my morning hooky and wound up turning in pretty early myself. For most of it, I even managed to keep my mind off of whatever Savannah was going to want from me tomorrow.
Mostly.
The irony felt thick. Tomorrow, I’d spend my lunch break being a kind, caring father to my daughter. And at the same time, Bailey would be trying to con Savannah’s mother, building the case to destroy her and get her out of our lives once and for all.
And Savannah could never know about it.
I was lying in bed, contemplating the wisdom of switching the lamp and the book for total darkness and my Kindle when my phone vibrated. Text from an unknown number: one of those throwaway accounts people use for privacy. I opened it.
And saw Bailey.
She’d been slick, no doubt about it. The photo didn’t show her face—just her body, which was currently lying in the downstairs bathtub like a Greek nymph, covered in bubbles that were very much not strategically placed.
I could see everything—her stiff nipples, her glistening pussy, the way her free hand spread her folds, the tips of her fingers hidden in the heavenly channel I’d spent every possible opportunity burying myself in since the Armada.
I know you said no screens, Daddy, she’d written. But I wanted to show you I’m following instructions. Am I a good girl?
My heart nearly stopped. Very good, I wrote back.
Bed at ten o’clock sharp, came the next text. If I set an alarm for after everyone’s gone to bed, can I come up for just a minute? Please, Daddy?
Jesus. This girl might actually be the death of me.
The way she wrote—less like a girlfriend than a full-time submissive—made me feel like a fucking king. Maybe that’s why I did what I did next. Because I’d spent my life avoiding audacious things, avoiding asking for too much—and maybe I wanted to prove to myself how much this girl loved me.
2AM. Mouth only. And you don’t get to cum, I wrote, picturing the look on her face. Wear pajamas and the ribbon. Take everything but the ribbon off before you get in bed.
Somewhere downstairs, though I had no way of knowing it, Bailey was squeezing her thighs together and groaning like she’d just taken a hit of the world’s most expensive drug. Her Daddy Dom had at long last come out to play.
Yes, Daddy, came the text after a few moments. Thank you, Daddy. I love you, Daddy.
And an emoji of a blue heart. For BlueJay19, presumably.
I love you too, babygirl, I wrote back. Be a good girl and finish your bath.
I closed the text—no faces, no names, nothing to connect me directly to Bailey—and put the phone away. I thought of setting an alarm for a few minutes before two, just to be on the safe side, but that would’ve ruined the surprise.
I couldn’t believe I’d written that.
And I couldn’t believe Bailey had thanked me for it.
Brave new fucking world, I thought, staring up at the ceiling. Debbie would’ve killed me if I’d tried to order her around like that…
But fuck it. Debbie wasn’t here anymore.
Tomorrow I had two lunches to worry about.
But tonight, at 2AM, my babygirl was going to take all my worries away.