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Chapter Eighteen
When Sable woke again, it was to a cold, wet nose snuffling at her hand which was dangling over the bed.
“Rhodie,” Jethro said in a gently scolding tone, and then he was sitting at her side, making the mattress sink with his weight. “Sorry he woke you up, he likes pretty girls.”
Sable covered her mouth so he wouldn’t see the broad smile that elicited. She wasn’t supposed to like being pretty or cute or whatever. Being ruthless or savvy sure, but not anything as basic as pretty. And yet.
In addition to feeling annoyingly smug, she also had to pee like crazy.
“Daddy, I—”
“What, baby?”
She could tell him she needed to go to the bathroom, and he’d take her. He’d said he would. She didn’t have to use the diaper he’d put her in. But also, she kind of wanted to? To see what it was like? And if she asked, she wouldn’t be able to choose the diaper, she knew it.
“Do you need to be changed?”
Sable bit her lip, because no, not yet. Her brain felt like it was static-y and she couldn’t make a choice. There was too much noise, too many thoughts about what she should and shouldn’t do and it was too much. Just too much.
But then there was a hand on her tummy, big and warm and applying some pressure downward.
“Do you, baby? Hmm?”
Oh. Jethro pushed with a steady, firm pressure, and finally, her face bright red with embarrassment, Sable let go. It was a strange feeling, being warm and wet and mortified. Luckily it didn’t last too long because when she brought herself to whisper, “Yes, Daddy,” Jethro patted her tummy.
“That’s a good girl. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
And then without any fanfare or trying to make her feel badly about it, he wiped her down between her thighs and pulled out another diaper to put her in. It was over in minutes and she found herself wishing he’d taken more time. Maybe he would if he knew she sort of liked the humiliation that sent her blushing and squirming.
For now, though, Jethro smoothed some hair back from her forehead as he studied her. “I wasn’t going to wake you, but since you’re up now, did you want to go to the Saint Germaine event this evening? I know you were supposed to volunteer there.”
Ugh, shit, right. She tried to sit up but Jethro put a hand on her un-injured shoulder. He didn’t even have to put any pressure on it to make her give up, just rest it over her skin.
“Yes, I should go.”
“That’s not what I asked. I asked if youwantedto go.”
Intellectually, she knew there was a difference between wanting to do something and being obligated to do it but it didn’t feel that way. As her mother would say, “What does wanting have to do with anything?”
If she had a job to do, she’d do it. That included pretty much everything she did in her whole life. Working out, eating, doing her job, getting dressed, volunteering.
“Um, yes?”
“You don’t sound so sure about that. Do you actually enjoy volunteering at these things or is just something on a checklist, another thing for you to get through? I want you to really think about it. No rush.”
She wanted to pout at him, because there was in fact a rush. She’d peeked around him and saw a clock that said it was already two in the afternoon. If that was true, she had three hours to get home, get showered and dressed and get over to the ballroom for the Saint Germaine school event.
Maybe she didn’t pout, but she did purse her lips in annoyance. This man was going to make her late and Sable Hollingsford wasnotlate.
But the truth was he could keep her here forever and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Well, there was because her phone was right there and she could call any number of people who would come and tell Jethro what was what. But she maybe kind of liked the idea of being his prisoner, subject to what she hoped was his benevolent rule.
She closed her eyes to picture being at one of the Christmas parties, and tried to determine—did she like it? The noise she didn’t love. The other women who served on the charity she belonged to, she didn’t love them either.
But when she let her mind wander over the entire scene—she did love watching the joy on the kids’ faces as they talked to Santa. She did love the decorations. She did love the feeling that she was part of something that made people happy instead of stabbing a bitch if it would get her what she wanted. And she loved the food. It didn’t escape her notice either that when she pictured Santa that it was always Jethro she saw.
It was silly to keep her eyes closed and imagine him when she could see the man in the flesh right in front of her though, and plus she had the answer to his question. So she opened them and was struck again by how handsome he was, especially with a little extra scruff. He hadn’t shaved yet today.
“I do like volunteering at the parties. Especially when you’re there.”
