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Chapter Twenty-Four
Jethro liked people. He liked talking to customers at the nursery, he liked chatting with people at Hive. He’d strike up a conversation with strangers over the quality of produce he couldn’t grow himself at the grocery store, or with the people sitting next to him at the ballpark. He was a friendly and easy-going guy.
But Sable’s parents made him feel like a troll under a bridge—he loathed them and wanted to whisk her away as soon as possible. Deirdre and Duncan had been talking at them—not to, because that implied conversation and these two definitely enjoyed the sound of their own voices more than anything else—for over an hour, not seeming to notice that Sable was dead on her feet.
When she’d given them the attempted mugging story, they’d scolded her for being in an unsafe neighborhood after dark and being alone, but they hadn’t asked how she was feeling or any details about her injury. All they seemed to do was criticize Sable and gossip about their country club friends.
Her father had talked business with him a little bit but mostly to tell him that he should be expanding into some sort of global empire. Despite Jethro being pretty clear that he was happy with the size of his operation and the money he brought in.
Jethro didn’t make nearly as much money as Duncan, certainly, but he made enough to pay his people well, to not worry when he had unexpected expenses, and to help out his siblings when they needed it. He was very comfortable.
And while Sable was a business powerhouse in her own right and didn’t need anything from him financially, he was pretty sure he could keep her comfortable too. If she wanted that. Someday. Maybe sooner. It felt like it might be a lot sooner but he wasn’t going to push.
“Well, folks,” he said, not caring who or what he interrupted anymore. He was hot from being in his suit for so long, Sable was practically slumping against him—if that was possible for someone whose muscles were taut with strain. And these people obviously didn’t care. “I’ve got some early morning work to get done for one of my customers, so we should get going. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
He held out a hand to Duncan who shook it, reluctantly. Deirdre just nodded at him with a tight smile before leaning in to give Sable a couple of air kisses.
“Sable, we’ll see you for dinner on Christmas Eve. And don’t wear that sling, it will ruin the pictures.”
Jethro’s parents hadn’t been perfect—no parents ever were. But he knew goddamn well they never would’ve been more worried about photographs than him or his siblings’ health.
He gritted his teeth as he slipped an arm around Sable’s waist and steered her out of the building and away from her terrible parents.
She didn’t say anything as he led her out to the truck, or when he handed her into the cab and buckled her in. She turned away from him and stared out the window, silent, the entire way home.
If he’d thought it would help, he would have chattered at her, tried to flirt or make her laugh. But she seemed unreachable at the moment, like nothing he said or did would touch her. It was almost as though she was frozen in a block of ice.
It was then he realized that Sable had never been an ice princess. This was Sable chilled to the bone. No, she’d been a fiery ball of uncertainty and loneliness, begging for attention and love—albeit in a kind of fucked up way because she was so afraid she wouldn’t get it.
Well, he would pour love over her until she forgot what it was like to be alone. Feed her with attention and care and nurturing until she didn’t remember what it had been to be starved of any of those things.
First, though, he’d have to thaw her. Carefully and gently so her brittle heart wouldn’t shatter.
When they got home, she didn’t argue as he scooped her out of the truck and carried her into the house and set her on the couch. The dogs trundled up the little steps he’d built for them and they surrounded Sable, nosing at her while their tails wagged incessantly.
She petted them absentmindedly while he stoked the fire and got a cold pack to put on her shoulder and a blanket to tuck around her legs.
“I’m going to let the dogs out and get you something to eat. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.”
He didn’t bother asking if she needed anything, because he knew what she needed and it wasn’t something he could grab from the pantry or the fridge and toss at her before he went about his business.
“Come on dogs, outside.”
The beasties heard “outside” and made their not-very-graceful way down their stairs again and headed out the door to the backyard. Jethro kept on to the kitchen where he got some chili out of the fridge and heated it up on the stove.
Yeah, there had been food at the party, but a lot of it was empty sweets and the rest of it were those fancy finger foods that looked pretty but left you hungry half-an-hour later. It was food meant for showing off more than sustenance, and he and Sable both needed something that would warm them from the inside after that evening.
While he left the chili to bubble on the stove, he went upstairs, rinsed off quick in the shower and changed into clothes that weren’t dark red velvet or fur-trimmed. He liked wearing his Santa suit—it made almost everyone happy—but he didn’t want to live in the thing twenty-four/seven.
Downstairs, he stripped Sable out of her elf clothes and wrapped her back up in the blanket, and let the dogs in before returning to the couch with a big bowl of steaming-hot chili with a whole bunch of shredded cheese melting on the top, and a bib that he fastened around Sable’s elegant neck. She didn’t argue when he settled her in his lap and told her to open up.
It took a few bites of the hearty stew for her to start relaxing against him, but he could feel the slow release of the tension she’d been carrying in her body. Warmth, comfort, and sustenance, that’s what his strong but fragile babygirl needed.
Sable turned her head after a few more bites and he tutted at her. “I don’t think so, little miss. Three more bites. You can do that for Daddy.”
She pouted and shook her head. It was a funny thing to be relieved about, her being a little bratty, a little uncooperative, but she could’ve just as easily refused to be treated like a little at all and then where would they be?
“Yes. Do it now or you’ll earn a punishment for being a disobedient little girl. You’re already on the road to trouble for your language earlier.”
She screwed up her face and clamped her mouth closed tight as he put the spoon to her lips. He almost laughed because she was so goddamn adorable. But she had forgotten that he’d her wrapped up like a Sable-burrito, and there was nothing she could do to stop him from pinching her nose shut until she had to suck in a breath and when she did, he pushed the spoon into her mouth and rubbed her throat until she swallowed.
And instead of giving in for the next two bites, she insisted on being forced. That was fine with him—his cock was growing thick and heavy where her hip pressed against it.
She wanted to protest? She wanted to be force-fed? He would do it, and he wouldn’t mind one bit. She was asking to be controlled, pleading to be forced, practically begging to be punished.
Fine. He’d make her feel strong, but he’d make it clear he was stronger and she could rely on him for anything.
