Page 33 of Daddy's Claim
He quirked a brow at me but ambled over to the stack of fluffy white towels anyway and did as I’d asked.
“Thank you.” Drying myself off as much as possible, I wrapped the towel around my body and turned to leave without bothering to tell the guard where I was going. It was almost dinner time, so with any luck Michael would be home soon. Maybe I could brat my way into a spanking and work off someof the frustration I’d worked up in the pool. I tried not to think too hard about what it said about me that I was actually looking forward to the prospect of getting my ass roasted again.
With a quick stop in the kitchen for a vitamin water and an apple, I made my way up to our bedroom to start a bath for myself. With the water running, I grabbed my phone from where I’d left it beside the bed and checked my messages.
Nothing from Michael, only a message from Rissa begging me to come out to the club with her. Nights out on the town with Rissa used to be the highlight of my week. The thumping bass, the hot, young bodies all pressed together as we moved to the music. And the boys. I would miss the boys most of all. I’d miss the power of moving my body in ways meant to drive them all wild with need while I took my time deciding whether or not to let one of them take me home for the night.
Sighing, I slid into the tub and let the hot water and oils soothe my mind and body. Now the only time I felt powerful was when Michael turned his fiery eyes on me and I could tell he was barely holding on to his control. And as frustrating as it was to admit, during my clubbing days I’d never felt anything close to what I felt with Michael.
I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back against the padded headrest. My mind replayed the night before, my husband’s words, his actions—the pleasure he’d given me in spades. It was like I was reliving the whole thing and my fingers began to make their way between my legs. Maybe an orgasm was exactly what I needed to take the edge off until Michael came home.
Pressing my wandering fingers to my clit, I let my mind drift, hoping it would conjure up something exciting as I worked myself toward my release. Unsurprisingly, an image of Michael, looking stern and furious formed in my mind. Imaginary Michael lectured me about touching myself without permission, giving the act an even more illicit feel that had my heartpounding. By the time my fantasy husband bent me over the side of the tub and landed several swats to my wet, naked ass, I was teetering on the edge of bliss.
Then my phone rang, dispelling the fantasy and jolting me back from the edge. Annoyed at being denied, I reached for the phone and glared at the display. Michael. Of course. Was he fucking psychic or something? Maybe he’d had cameras installed and he’d been watching me get myself off, deliberately stopping me before I could come.
Why the hell was the thought of him watching me without my knowledge so fucking hot?
“Hello?” I answered, doing my damndest to keep the excitement out of my voice. The last thing I needed was for him to realize the effect he had on me when he wasn’t even in the fucking room.
“Hi, princess. How’s your day been?”
I wasnotgetting all gooey because he called me princess. It was a stupid, patronizing nickname and I refused to let it turn me into a puddle for him to stomp all over.
“Uneventful. Yours?” Somehow I managed to keep my tone aloof, and I inwardly cheered at my resolve.
“Wish I could say the same. I hate to do this to you again, but I’m not sure what time we’re going to get done here. We’ve got more installs to do and we’re still trying to figure out how they are managing to get into the buildings.”
Of course. Another night all by myself. Just how I’d hoped to spend my first week of so-called wedded bliss. “It’s fine.”
“Are you being a good girl?” His voice dipped to that deep tone that seemed to vibrate in my clit and I squeezed my legs together in a vain attempt to ward off the need he inspired.
“I’m sure my babysitter would have called if I was anything but, Daddy.”
Michael chuckled. “I know you hate this. I promise it’s not forever. I can’t wait to spoil my good girl tomorrow. Maybe tonight too if I don’t get in too late.”
My good girl. That was even worse than ‘princess’. And my body’s reaction even stronger. “I’ll probably go to bed early. I have a headache.”
He was silent for a minute before he sighed deeply. “There’s some aspirin in the medicine cabinet in our bathroom. Make sure to get some food and water into you before you go to sleep, please. I have to go. Be good.”
“Sure. Bye.” I hung up quickly before I could say something stupid that I would regret, like ‘Yes, sir’ or some shit. My phone pinged again with another message from Rissa and this time I didn’t ignore it. If he could stay out late and leave me alone two nights in a row, I wasn’t going to sit on my ass and just wait for him to give me attention.
With a plan formulating in my mind, I shot her a quick text and told her I was down and that I would text her with details on where to meet me in a little bit. Ignoring the ache still lingering between my thighs, I rushed through the rest of my bath and climbed out, my heart pounding with fear and excitement at the thought of what I was about to do.
Grabbing my favorite strapless dress and my highest heels, I went to work getting myself ready for a night on the town with my bestie, just like old times. If Michael didn’t like it, he could go fly a fucking kite as far as I was concerned.
The only fly in the ointment was figuring out how to escape my glamorous prison. As I got dressed I racked my brain for a reason I needed to leave the house. It would have to be something only I could deal with, so I didn’t risk Michael passing it off to one of his goons. A lightbulb went off and I grinned as I grabbed my phone to message my dear husband.
I started my period and I don’t have any tampons.
The little dots danced across the screen indicating he was typing, but then they disappeared for a second. I imagined him trying to come up with a reply and smiled to myself.
I’m sure Adele has some.
I only use a certain kind.
Write it down and I’ll send a guy out to get it.
He’ll get the wrong kind. Men always get the wrong kind. Can’t I just have someone take me? Please?