Call Me Daddy Read online

  I didn't want to examine my feelings on the matter too closely. I had a wayward sub to track down. If there was a dark corner somewhere in the club, I'd be dragging her into it and showing her the meaning of the word discipline.

  I handed my ID and the appropriate amount of cash to the bouncer. I was just a little taller than he was, but he held himself with a posture that let me know he was probably some flavor of ex-military. He had a shiny bald head and an abundance of tattoos.

  He seemed to recognize my name if the subtle widening of his eyes was any indication.

  "What are you doing in a place like this?" he asked bluntly. "Word is you don't get out."

  "I'm here to see a woman. About yea high, blonde. She was wearing a pinafore when I saw her last."

  The bouncer's big face relaxed. "Ah. Whitney. Yeah, she arrived about fifteen minutes ago. I think she's at the bar."

  I gave him a tight, grateful nod, doing my very best to conceal my irritation. Of course, she'd be at the bar. She was determined to break the rules. Acting out as only a child would do when they felt slighted.

  The interior of the club was dark and filled with the smell of perfume and sweat. There were more illicit things beneath that fog, but I didn't try hard to make them out. They only concerned me if my little sub was partaking when she shouldn't.

  Strobing blue and purple light gave me brief glimpses of the faces around me. I picked her out after a few minutes. She was perched on a black bar stool, deep in conversation with a tall, broad, blonde man.

  A ripple of jealousy ran through me before I could get a handle on it. I pushed my way through the crowd, ignoring the irritated or outright angry looks I was getting from the other patrons. The moment it was socially acceptable to do so, I was going to drag her off that bar stool.

  Whitney raised a silvery can to her mouth and took a deep drink. My vision nearly went white with rage. I had to tamp down on this. I knew better than to react to her this way. I'd had one bratty sub before, and she'd done worse. But something about Whitney made it hard to control myself.

  I reached her just in time to hear her pealing laugh. "My God, Brandon, you didn't!"

  The bartender flashed her a megawatt smile that exposed his glistening white teeth. The smile was a mirror to the ones I'd seen on Whitney's face in the past few days. I released the breath I'd been holding. I recognized this man, and he would hold about as much sexual allure for Whitney as a pit viper.

  Brandon Farbridge's smile shrank by a few molars as he caught sight of me. He whispered something to Whitney, and her back went stiff with stress. She peeked over one shoulder, and nervousness flashed in her eyes as she caught sight of me. Good.

  I seated myself on the bar stool right next to Whitney's and examined the can in her hand. My anger was fizzling out. The can was not a beer, as I'd half expected. It was a Diet Coke can. She wasn't supposed to have more caffeine today, so she was still breaking the rules, but it was a much less serious infraction than I'd been expecting.

  "Someone you want to introduce me to, Whitney?" Brandon murmured, aiming a tight smile in my direction. He was shorter than I was by about five inches, and he was built like a runner, not a fighter. Still, he gave off the barely contained energy of a man who wanted a fight.

  "Um, yeah. This is my boss, Jace McCarthy." She gestured to me broadly without ever looking me in the eye. "I didn't realize you were going to follow me, sir."

  "Your father called the office after you left," I lied smoothly. "I came to give you the message."

  "I thought you didn't like responding to messages," she challenged me, hurling the pointed barb with characteristic venom. I seized the wrist she had daintily perched on her lap. It was the only part of her out of the watchful eyes of Brandon. My grip tightened around the dainty appendage, and I had the brief and enticing image of rigging her to the ceiling of my playroom.

  I exerted just enough pressure to make her uncomfortable, as a warning. She sucked in a breath. I watched her face for any signs of discomfort but saw only desire mingled with hurt.

  "I think you'll want to hear this one. Come on."

  "Anything you want to say to my sister can be said in front of me," Brandon said coldly.

  I gave him one hard look. "What are you doing here, anyway, Farbridge? I thought you were in training to be your father's successor."

  Brandon shrugged one large shoulder. "Hated it. Whitney's much better with that sort of thing. Not that Dad will ever groom her to be his successor. Stubborn old bastard. So I bought this place. It was going to have a date with a wrecking ball until I bought it and spiffed it up."

  Whitney's lips quirked a little at the insult to her father, but she said nothing. Her posture didn't relax. I sighed. Apologies were in order from both of us. I'd completely overreacted to her flight. And she'd completely overreacted to my lack of response. But how did I tell her that I was sorry without alerting her brother to exactly how intimate a partnership we had?

  I began slowly and carefully, willing her to understand the underlying apology. "He wanted to say he was sorry about this afternoon. He does care for you, Whitney. Quite a bit. But you can understand why he's angry, can't you?"

  Whitney's lips twitched again, and she used her free hand to take a sip of her Coke. "That doesn't sound at all like him. Daddy doesn't apologize."

  Damn the little minx. She was playing with me. The intimate nickname we shared made my cock twitch. I tightened my grip on her wrist and tugged her a little closer. She slid off the barstool and stumbled into my arms. I wound them around her at once, catching her before she could slide all the way down to the floor. Her Diet Coke sloshed onto my dress shirt.

  "Oops. Sorry, I'm such a klutz."

  "I can change out of it," I muttered.

  "Why don't I help you get the stain out?" she murmured, giving me a heated look through her eyelashes.

  "That would be much appreciated, Miss Farbridge."

  Whitney turned in my arms to face her brother and gave him a dazzling smile. "Are there any bathrooms not currently being smoked in?"

  Brandon gave an almost unwilling chuckle, and I could tell that he hadn't been fooled at all by our little charade. I just hoped his disdain for his parents was as genuine as it appeared. That would probably keep him from spilling the secret.

  "I've got private rooms on the third floor. The bathrooms up there should be empty right now."

  Whitney all but sprinted for the glass staircase that let up to the upper floors, towing me behind her.

  "Someone is eager," I murmured. "You do know you're in for the ass-beating of a lifetime, don't you?"

  Whitney's entire body shuddered, and she bit her lip in a very comely fashion. "I know. And I'm sorry. But I..."

  I pulled her to a stop at the third landing and pulled her in for a kiss. I licked along the seam of her mouth until she parted obligingly for me. Then I delved inside, tasting and taking what was mine. Her hot little mouth was sweet, and every taste I got of her made me want more. I crushed her against my chest and kissed a hot, wet trail to her clavicle, biting and suckling there until she whimpered.

  "Don't ever run from me again," I whispered against her throat. "You scared me."

  The admission made me feel achingly vulnerable. Whitney plastered herself impossibly closer to me and leaned her head into my chest. A moment later, I felt the warm splash of tears against my already ruined shirt.

  "I was stupid," she sniffed. "I knew better than to say it. I always move too fast. It was too much to expect you not to freak out."

  "Don't apologize for that," I said, nipping her throat once in reprimand. "I told you to be honest with me. It just came as a...surprise, is all."

  She gave one watery chuckle. "It's okay to say you were freaked out. You wouldn't be the first guy I drove off with my clinginess."

  I tilted her head up so that I could get a good look at her face. She needed to hear these next words. They were important.

  "I am not leaving you, Wh
itney. And I'm not saying you won't ever get to hear it back. But patience is another virtue you need to learn. If you run, I will chase you. If you act out, I will discipline you. And if you are attacked, I will defend you."

  She relaxed into my arms with a sigh of contentment. "Thank you."

  "But you are not going to get away with this unpunished."

  Her eyes glittered with delight. She jerked her head toward the nearest room. "These rooms are plenty spacious. Lots of furniture to sleep on, if you know what I mean."

  "It's not a punishment if you enjoy it, baby girl," I said with a smirk. "So we'll put a pin in that until tomorrow evening. Right now, I'm going to make love to you. And then we'll see to that punishment."

  A frown turned down the edges of her full mouth. "I don't understand. Do you want to wait until we get home? I'm sure you could find something to use in here, like your belt."

  She tugged at the fastening to my belt, and I got impossibly harder. It was very tempting. I could get it over with here and now, and we could return to the normal, semi-peaceful state we'd begun to live in. But it wouldn't be doing right by her, and I knew it. I removed her fumbling fingers from the latch and pushed her away.

  "No. I'm going to take you because that is what I wish. But your punishment waits until tomorrow night. It will be unpleasant, and you will not enjoy it. And it will make you think twice about breaking the rules again.”

  Whitney's big baby blues were filled with confusion and more than a little fear. "What is it? What on earth could you possibly want me to do that's going to be that terrible? I've told you I'm pretty much down for whatever you want, Daddy."

  An unpleasant, shark-like smile curled my lips. Oh, she was going to hate me for this.

  "After we get through, you are going to call and make a reservation at the Grove for five."

  Her brows scrunched up in confusion. "Dinner is my punishment?"

  I laughed. "No, baby girl. Dinner with your parents is your punishment. And I'm pretty sure it will be one you won't forget."

  10

  Whitney

  He was a cruel son of a bitch. I'd barely had time to process what he'd said before he dragged me into one of the private rooms.

  My brother didn't allow prostitution in the club. Anyone found using the private rooms for anything illegal got booted from the premises immediately and permanently blacklisted from any of the clubs Brandon owned. But occasionally, Brandon or some of the other A-listers would bring their dates up here and indulge in some fun. I'd obviously never been invited to any of the hedonistic orgies that went on up here, but I'd heard enough about them to picture them.

  Jace pressed my back against the door and undid his belt slowly and leisurely. My pulse was thrumming so hard I could feel it at the back of my throat. The belt came free of the loops with an audible sound.

  "Hands out, Whitney," he instructed. I placed my wrists in his waiting palms, scowling at him. Hadn't he just said he wouldn't push me about my family?

  Then again, I'd run off and broken two rules. No, three, I realized belatedly. I'd left without informing him, I'd come to a place where partying was rampant to see my brother and any of my old friends I could find, and I'd had another dose of caffeine. So maybe I did deserve a punishment. But surely not that.

  Jace wound the sturdy leather belt around my wrists and then pulled it taut until I could barely move an inch one way or another. He checked to make sure my circulation was good before he pressed my back against the door once more. I could feel the cool wood through the thin material of my shirt and pinafore.

  Jace tugged my arms up and looped my impromptu binding over the hook on the back of the door that was meant to hold coats. The effect was to stretch my arms far above my head in a fashion that was a little uncomfortable but not painful. Then something thick and rough came down over my eyes, blocking out what little I'd been able to see before. I gasped and wriggled, trying to get my bearings again. Where had he gotten something to use as a blindfold?

  "Tell me if you need me to stop, baby girl." His breath was warm where it fanned across my neck. His big hands were braced on my waist, and I could feel the thick length of him pressed up against my backside.

  I felt cold when he took a step back from me. I strained to hear what he was doing. Every inch of my skin was tingling, trying to anticipate when and where he'd touch me again. His fingers skimmed my thigh and I jumped, squealing just a little. The warm sound of his laughter curled around me like the warmest of blankets. His hand pushed the material of the pinafore up around one hip, and he placed a soft nip on the exposed patch of thigh between the skirt and the silk stockings Alma had insisted I wear with it. My thighs trembled and my knees threatened to go weak at his touch. If he'd only reach between my legs, part my folds, and glide his big, rough fingers over the bud that was aching for his attention.

  But the heat of him disappeared from my thigh, leaving me cold again. I twisted against the restraints. This wasn't fair, damn it. I wanted to see him. I wanted to feel him, and I could do neither. Worse than that, he was going to take me to dinner with my parents, who'd assume, correctly, that I was sleeping with Jace. No doubt my father would mention it at dinner. Only the fact that Jace and Brandon would be there made the thought of it tolerable.

  His lips grazed the sensitive flesh between my thigh and ass, and I arched away from the touch. It tickled. Jace didn't let me get away that easily, stroking along the skin until I was squealing again. The pressure of his nails dragging over the spot had my legs trying to do Twister. It was only the restraints that kept me upright.

  One finger hooked into the waistband of my panties and drew them down my legs. I couldn't see to step out of them, so they remained between my ankles, restricting my movement unless I wanted to break them.

  "You seem uncomfortable, baby girl," he teased.

  "I'm just...ducky," I panted. "This isn't so...ooooh..."

  I trailed off into a groan as he ran one finger through my slit, stopping just shy of my clit. It was maddening.

  "Please," I whined. "Please, Daddy."

  "Please, Daddy what? Tell me what you want, and beg me to give it to you."

  "Inside of me, please. I want you inside of me.”

  He edged just the tip of his finger inside of my entrance and began slow, leisurely strokes over my g-spot. It sent ripples of pleasure through my body. A small sob of relief escaped me. Then the finger was gone.

  Big hands braced on my hips and then he was lifting me up, slinging my legs over his shoulders. He wedged his face between my thighs, and the barest trace of stubble on my thigh had me bucking into him. His hot mouth latched onto my clit with exquisite, excruciating slowness and his tongue swept across the oversensitized skin with the zeal of someone sampling a gourmet meal.

  My head rocked back against the door, and I fought a moan.

  "Keep quiet," he ordered. "I can hear more people on the stairs, so let's not disturb them, hm?"

  It was all I could do to nod. We could easily be found, and that should have been embarrassing. Instead, the thought only made me wetter. Jace's smile against my skin made me feel even better than the oral.

  "Does that turn you on? Maybe we'll make a voyeur of you yet."

  And that was the last thing he said before he returned to his ministrations and sent my body and mind spiraling into orgasmic, white oblivion.

  Jace gave me time off of work the next day. As he should have, since he’d kept me up the entire night fucking me six ways to Sunday. By the time dinner rolled around, there was barely a patch of my back or thighs that wasn't stinging. My ass was so tender I could barely sit down, and my arms ached from the bonds he'd used to secure me to the ceiling.

  He was quiet on the car ride over, and I tried not to let that scare me. He'd said he wasn't leaving, and his silence didn't necessarily spell the impending doom of our...whatever this was. He might just be tired. He appeared to have the stamina of Superman, but that didn't mean it wouldn't run out s
ometime.

  We pulled up to the Grove a little after dusk. The Grove was one of the old-style New York buildings built of pale gray stone. A wrought iron trellis built into the side of the building allowed ivy to climb up the side of the wall, adding to the old-world feel of sophistication.

  A maitre d’ met us at the door and extended a hand toward us. “May I take your coats?”

  I shrugged out of the dark wrap I wore and handed it to the young man. He eyed my long, black dress with keen interest, lingering a little too long at the bodice. A small, pleased smile curled my lips before I could stop it. I wasn’t used to getting this much attention when I had this much fabric covering me. The long-sleeved number was possibly the most conservative thing I’d ever seen since the last Republican Convention.

  Jace handed his coat to the young man as well and gave him a rather dirty look as he did so. My grin only got wider. Okay, so dinner was going to be horrible, but having Mr. Impossibly Handsome and Perfect getting all caveman over little old me was a treat I hadn't anticipated.

  "Do you have a reservation?" he asked.

  "Farbridge, party of five." Ugh. Even saying the words made my stomach roll.

  He checked the seating schedule resting on the oak podium and nodded. "You're in the green room. The rest of your party arrived about five minutes ago and are currently sampling the wine of the day."

  Jace only nodded at that. I wished he hadn't given me free rein to speak at this dinner. Normally, the rules he imposed in the total power exchange meant that he did everything first, even when we were in public. Unless directed otherwise, I waited for him to sit first, I waited for him to eat the first bite of a meal, and I waited until he was done with work to leave.

  But this was my punishment, and he wanted me to endure every excruciating moment of it. So I was taking the lead tonight, and Jace would only put in his two cents if it was needed. I bit back a sigh. Social interaction with my family. God, that was exactly what I'd been trying to avoid for years.