Page 109 of Merciless Daddy

I smiled broadly. “That isn’t how control works.”

Her glare could have stripped paint.

I stroked her hair back from her face.

“I need you to learn that I may put you over my knee, make your ass red, and still carry you somewhere safe afterward without taking anything else. Discipline does not create a debt.”

“But I’m asking.”

“Yes. And I’m saying no. Not because I don’t want you.”

She looked pointedly at my trousers. My erection remained obvious.

She went quiet.

The adrenaline had begun to fall. I saw the change in her eyes. The bright edge softened. Her shoulders drew inward. Her lower lip trembled once, and she bit it.

There she was.

Not the brat who had stretched her feet across my lap.

The vulnerable part beneath the test. The one that had needed proof I would hold the line and was now frightened by the fact I had.

I pulled her pajamas back into place with careful hands.

Then I lifted her again.

The scratchy blanket had arrived that afternoon. Grey wool. Ugly as requested.

I wrapped her in it and settled her in the corner of the sofa.

She rubbed the edge between two fingers.

“It’s horrible.”

“You specified horrible.”

“I said scratchy.”

“This is scratchy.”

“It looks military. Like I was washed in goat milk.”

“I may have chosen poorly.”

She almost smiled.

I went to the kitchen.

Milk. Dark chocolate. Cinnamon. Not too sweet.

When I returned, she had arranged the blanket around herself until only her bare toes showed. Her coloring book lay open on the table.

I handed her the beverage.

“Two hands.”

She took it with both hands.