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She’s tense, not sure what to expect from me. “I want to take care of you.”
“In what way?”
“In every way.”
“Are you mad?”
“At you?” I ask. She nods. “No. I am pissed at those women. I hate that you got hurt. It’s my job to protect you.”
“Oh,” she says, her tone and drooped shoulders suggesting disappointment.
“Are you upset that I’m not mad at you?” I ask, my eyebrows shooting up.
“No,” she denies, and I narrow my eyes. “Fine, I was discussing being a bad girl with the girls,” she says reluctantly.
“You were curious how we would treat a bad girl,” I guess.
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
“Hmmm…” I cup her shoulders. “I do wish you would have ignored the women. I don’t want you running into a situation that could put you in danger. You are stunning. Do not let someone's thoughtless, ridiculous words affect you.”
“You are a guy,” she says.
“True?” I tilt my head. “As a guy, you are so fucking hot, I’m hard as fuck.”
She glances down and back up quickly, blushing. “I promise not to hit random women again. There, does that make it better?” she sasses.
I grin. She is really curious; she wants to be bad. “I will feel better if you let me take care of you.”
“My cheek and…” she pauses, looking at the front of my jeans. “Sex?
I stifle my laughter. She is the cure for all my anger and anxiety. “Do you want that?”
“Would you mark me?”
I jerk. “No. I have to do that when you are ready and with my brothers. I want you to be sure I am what you want.”
From the start, my brothers and I agreed we would each have time alone with her. We don’t have to be all together all the time. My relationship with her will not be the same as theirs.
I put my hands on her waist, lift her, and sit her on the counter. “Stay,” I command. I find a towel and go to the freezer for some ice. “I do like control,” I start as I put the cubes in the middle of the fabric. “When we were kids, I learned I needed to be the reasonable one. My brothers were loud and had the energy of four shifters. I liked looking at a situation and taking small, measured steps to reach the goal or fix the problem. I can’t tell you how many times I had to rescue them.” I brush her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. She hisses as I gently apply the cold.
“They like to dive head first into things, but I have to take my time. I need a bit more control in ways that allow me to. I could never control them. I like having control during sex. I would never harm you or not listen to your protests. With your permission, I would use bindings on you or blindfolds. I don’t need that every time, but I enjoy it. I love that I can give pleasure—that is the goal. Everything I do, I do to give you the most pleasure possible.” She shifts around. “Does that interest you? Are you open to it?”
“Yes.”
“How did it feel to call me Daddy?”
“I liked it.”
“Have you ever called anyone that during sex?” I hate asking, but I need the information to give her what she wants.
“Never.”
“Have you ever been tied up? Handcuffed?”
“Once, with a scarf.”
I grit my teeth. I don’t want to picture her with anyone else. “Did you like it?”
