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Chapter Thirty-Two
It was Christmas Eve. It was Christmas Eve and Sable had been living with Jethro for a week.
He fed her and bathed her and spanked her when she was naughty and made her come so hard she’d nearly pass out at least twice a day. They went to their scheduled events in the afternoons and the evenings where he played Santa and she was his elf. There may have been some absolutely filthy role-play one night before they got changed.
He gave her bottles, he took her shopping for clothes she’d be able to wear around the nursery and for playing outside, and they cuddled on the couch with the dogs. He kept her diapered except when they left the house, and he showed her how to string popcorn and cranberries on fishing line to make a garland for the Christmas tree he’d snagged from their dwindling supply. He had apologized because it was on the small side and not the prettiest, but she thought it was perfect. Everything was perfect.
And now, now it was Christmas Eve and they had to go to her parents’ for their holiday dinner. It was about half the people they’d had at the cocktail party last weekend, and she’d almost hoped they wouldn’t invite Jethro but they had. Dammit.
After bathing her, helping her with her hair, and pushing a couple of pain killer suppositories into her bottom, Jethro was zipping up her dress. It was mortifying that it was a little snug.
She’d gained weight while she’d been staying with him. And while she didn’t mind all that much—real food was delicious and she wasn’t suffering from a vague and gnawing ever-present hunger for the first time in years—she was dreading what her mother would have to say. Because no doubt she would notice. And comment. Because that’s what Deirdre Hollingsford did.
Jethro turned her around and held her at arm’s length, looked her up and down.
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, did you know that?”
She gave him a tight smile and looked away because the way he looked at her was physically painful sometimes. All the hope and love and worship there.
What if she disappointed him? And not in the small ways she already had done. Daddy liked to punish her, she knew that. But what if she screwed something up? Like, a lot. He’d said he’d still love her, but she’d never seen that be true in her life. Or what if he realized after being with her for a while that he didn’t actually like her?
Yes, this felt so right—now. But—
Her musing was cut off by Jethro’s knuckle tipping up her chin as he drew her in with an arm at her waist.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, baby?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, rolling her eyes at herself because there wasn’t a whole lot of things less attractive than being so insecure.
He stroked the backs of his knuckles down her cheek in a gesture so sweet it made her want to throw her arms around his neck no matter how much it hurt her shoulder and just get hugged by him forever.
“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you so much. What did we talk about?”
“When?” she asked, even though she knew exactly what he was talking about. She got a rough hand slid up her skirt and strong fingers gripping her ass for her trouble.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, little miss. Don’t think just because you’re all dolled up that I won’t turn you over my knee.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
In truth, it would be great if Jethro would give her a thorough thrashing before they went to this godforsaken party. She would think about how much her backside hurt, how it felt swollen and hot, and not how awful dinner was. Not the food. The food would be perfection because her mother didn’t do anything halfway.
No, it would be the rest of it. The gossip and the business talk and a bunch of people with too much money showing off for each other. It wouldn’t be anything like their afternoon in the greenhouse or their evening stringing garland in front of the fire. It would be uncomfortable, and not just because her shoes pinched.
Sable did realize, however, that they didn’t have time for Jethro to give her a spanking. Well, he would say they did have time. But according to her mother they’d be late and she didn’t want to deal with yet another criticism. Not that she could help anyway.
So when Jethro’s brow arched and he started counting down from five, she gave him a real answer instead of more sass.
“We talked about how you’re very strong and you can carry lots of heavy things.”
“That’s right. And what does that have to do with you? You’re not heavy. You’re a feather.”
He snaked his other hand under her skirt and used his grip on her bottom to lift her up. Sable wrapped her legs around his waist as she giggled. She liked it when he picked her up, when he carried her.
Jethro sat down on the edge of the bed and gave her a big, big hug. He didn’t let go, either. Just held her so long and so tight she almost cried because it felt so good.
“You said that if I ever feel like something is too heavy for me to carry to tell you and you’ll help,” she said into his shoulder as she hugged him back.
“That’s right. And whatever has got you fretting seems awfully heavy. So lay it on me, little miss.”
