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You’re just afraid he heard you say Daddy when you came last night.
I suppressed a scowl and lightly stepped down the hallway, peeking into the rooms I passed by along the way. There was another guest room and what appeared to be an office, but I didn’t wander outside. When I took a deep breath, the mouthwatering aroma of bacon wafted in my direction, comforting and wholly unexpected at the same time. I followed the delectable scent and stopped the moment I laid eyes on the man that had made all this possible. He was standing at the stove cooking and the image was so ridiculous at first that I almost thought myself still asleep.
Certainly a man with as much money as him hired someone to cook his meals, right?
I should thank him for bringing me here, but I couldn’t. I had too much pride for that.
As if he sensed my presence, he looked back over his shoulder, smiling with the kind of smile that would bring a lesser woman to her knees. His gaze slid down my legs and he shook his head.
“Breakfast is ready, but I want you to change into the clothes I left you rather than those. I’m taking you out today and you’ll be too cold in that.” His tone was expectant.
It irritated me immediately.
“Those aren’t really my vibe,” I scowled, trying my best to play nice even though it was difficult before coffee.
His eyebrow raised just the slightest bit and I had to stop myself from reaching back and covering my bottom as if I could protect it from him.
“You can go change or enjoy breakfast with a sore bottom. It’s your choice, Caitlin,” he replied, and I lifted my chin, trying to save face.
“They’re really not me,” I tried again, trying to sound a bit more pleading than the first time.
For a second, I wondered if he was kidding or not, but when he wiped off his hands on a kitchen towel and turned to face me, I knew that he was being serious.
“There will be plenty of opportunity for shopping on another day, but for now, I’d really like to show you my city without having you shivering the whole time,” he said softly.
His voice was gentle, but I knew that could change in an instant if I kept pushing him. I’d found that out yesterday. As much as I wanted to make a point, I didn’t particularly like being cold. Seattle summers had always been my favorite. The winters had been the absolute worst.
“Do you need to go over my knee first, little girl?”
He held out his hand and my stomach dropped straight down to my toes. I shook my head, hesitantly glancing up into his glacier blue gaze. He dropped his hand and smiled warmly.
“Then go change for me,” he guided gently, and I turned tail, suddenly preoccupied with the constant pulsing of my traitorous clit.
The way he’d said ‘for me’ radiated through me and it kept repeating over and over in my head. I rushed back into the bedroom and stripped. I pulled on the jeans, wincing just the slightest bit as the fabric hugged my sore backside. I had to admit that I felt much warmer in the jeans than the skirt.
I didn’t want to be this meek obedient thing though, so I took off the bra and left it on the counter. I slipped the sweater over my head, looking in the mirror and taking note that although the fabric was plush and warm, it was fairly obvious I wasn’t wearing anything underneath it, especially when my nipples were this hard. I wasn’t sure if that would tease him or annoy him. Truthfully, I’d be happy if it was a bit of both.
When I bounced back into the kitchen, I took a seat at the table. I watched him closely out of the corner of my eye as he turned around. He glanced down but said nothing as he quickly redirected his focus to placing the full plate of food in front of me. I couldn’t contain my sigh of happiness at seeing a heaping portion of fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast.
“How do you take your coffee?”
“With cream and a little sugar,” I answered timidly, feeling a bit shy.
He prepared two steaming mugs and placed one in front of me. I took it and sipped at it in a bit of a rush, burning my tongue a little in the process.
“Do you have orange juice too?” I asked, a bit hopeful.
“Of course,” he grinned.
He went into the enormous stainless-steel fridge and grabbed a container of what appeared to be freshly squeezed juice. He poured it for me and placed it next to the mug of coffee.
“Thank you,” I offered.
Feeling a bit off, I dug into the eggs first. They were perfectly fluffy and seasoned with sharp cheddar cheese, spinach, peppers, and onions, as well as some delicious spices. I chewed thoughtfully and sat back, making no effort to hide my chest as I enjoyed my meal. The longer I sat there, the more confident I felt.
He didn’t say anything about it, and I didn’t really know why I expected him to, but it kind of bothered me that he didn’t. I knew he didn’t think of me as some kid, or at least that’s what I kept having to remind myself. His cock had been rock-hard under my hip during my spanking. There had been no mistake about that. My annoyance bled into my body language, and I stabbed a piece of egg a bit harder than I meant to, causing the fork to clink loudly against the plate.
“Can we go shopping now? This sweater is bothering me,” I tried.
