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Honestly, either way is good for me. I already admitted to being a bastard; she can’t pretend she wasn’t warned.
“Are you hiding another secret from Daddy?” I ask after noticing the little sparkle in her eyes.
She pinches her lips together.
“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to find out on my own?” I tease.
“Maybe we can play a game,” she says. “Right now, you’re very, very cold, Daddy.”
“Oh?” I fight back a laugh. “Then let’s go to your bedroom. I’m sure the secret is in there.”
I easily move to my feet while keeping her legs around my middle and clinging to me. She hangs around my neck tightly as I carry her down the hallway.
Once in her bedroom, I deposit her on the bed. Immediately, I grab her shorts and rip them from her body, pulling them off her legs and tossing them aside, leaving her pussy bare and open to me.
She scrambles to the middle of the bed, leaning back on her elbows and watching me carefully.
Immediately, I find her secret.
“What is this,malyshka?” I pick up the small tube of lubricant sitting out in the open on her nightstand. “What were you doing with this?”
She stares at it then at me. It seems her bravery is wavering.
“Were you using this to play with yourself?” I put it back down. “Tell me what you did with it.”
Her entire face blooms in a blush. “The other night in the tub… so I got that so I could… you know… when I… you know.”
I raise my brows. “I have no idea what you’re saying. Tell me.”
“Ugh! You know.”
I grin, fully comprehending now what she was trying not to say aloud.
“Tell me anyway.” The frustration in her eyes is almost enough to make my cock break through my slacks. “Malyshka, did you use this lube on your fingers so you could finger-fuck your asshole while you were playing with your pussy?” I take some pity on her, but my words don’t wipe away her blush. If anything, she’s a whole shade darker.
“Yes, Daddy.” She nods.
Fuck, I wish I’d been here when she was having so much fun.
“Then you’re ready for my cock in your little ass.” I grin, grabbing the lube again and toss it on the bed beside her.
She visibly tenses.
“You’re not afraid, are you?” I ask as I pull my shirt from my waistband.
“I’m… unsure,” she admits. “One minute you look ready to kill and the next you have me cuddled in your lap.”
I drop my shirt to the floor and reach over my head to grab my undershirt, yanking it off and tossing it to the pile. Her eyes rake over my chest, at the tattoos etched into my skin. My brothers, being younger, have been sheltered from much of what my father wanted to teach. While they were allowed years in high school dating, and fucking their way through sororities in college, I was sent to Russia to learn what I could from the most ruthless of men. When I returned, I was kept on the move, keeping sure our men stayed in line, and taking control of whatever territory I could for my father. And all of this history is inked on my skin.
Billie moves to the edge of the bed, getting up on her knees and inspecting my chest with a feather-light touch. She traces the markings on my left pec muscle. One marking for every man I took out while in Russia. An old associate of my father had many enemies, and he turned me into his enforcer.
“Does it hurt when you get a tattoo? I mean, it has to, right, because of the needles, but does it hurt very much?” she asks, tracing the last mark.
I cover her hand with mine, which brings her eyes up to meet my gaze.
“It was nothing I couldn’t handle,” I assure her. I don’t tell her the artists in Russia weren’t like the shops you see here. These marks hurt like a motherfucker; it was part of the point.
“Like the other night? When you…” She moves her eyes back to my chin. Her favorite hiding spot. “Punished me? It wasn’t more than I could handle?”
