Page 8 of The Music in Me

“He cheated on me. That’s not the kind of hurt I’m talking about,” I said, and Leon just stared at me until I looked away. I wondered if he knew. It happened only once, and Anthony had claimed it was a mistake. Seeing how distraught he’d been afterward, I was inclined to believe him, and to give him credit, it never happened again. Shaking my head, I told myself I was being paranoid. The fact that Anthony was still alive was proof Leon didn’t know he’d once hurt me physically.

Ten years ago, Leon heard me perform at a small club and approached me at the end of the night with a business card, promising to make me a star. He wasn’t the first person to make such a promise to me, and my previous experience had made me just a little bit wary. For six weeks, his card sat on the dashboard of my car. Then one night, I picked it up and made the call that changed my life forever.

He fulfilled his promise and made me a star, but over the years, he became more than just my manager. He was my friend and confidant. He fixed my problems before I was even aware of them, took care of me in ways I didn’t know I needed to be taken care of, and ensured I was never taken advantage of. He was the reason I managed to escape unscathed from the scandals that ruined a lot of people in my industry.

I was his first big client, and even as his agency grew bigger and he hired more people, I remained his most important client.

“No one messes with you because they’re afraid of what he would do to them,” a fellow artiste had said to me backstage at a musical festival one day, and I’d laughed in response.

“That’s why he’s my manager,” I replied.

“No, it’s more than that. It’s personal with him. You’re not just a client to him, Kira. You’re something else… Something more…”

At the time, I’d been left confused by the conclusion of our conversation. After what happened last night, I wondered if other people had seen something between Leon and me that I’d been ignorant of for so long. It had even been a bone of contention between Anthony and me, and he accused me of choosing Leon over him several times. He was not entirely wrong. I just didn’t see why that was a problem.

Now, I was eating breakfast with Leon, only a few hours after he blindfolded me, restrained me, spanked me, and then made me come so hard I squirted. Maybe Anthony had a point, and I wondered if we'd opened Pandora's box by doing what we did last night. Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I pulled myself back to my conversation with Leon as I continued to enjoy my breakfast.

It was the best meal I’d had in months, and when guilt tried to rear its ugly head, I just reminded myself that I didn’t have a choice. Either I ate the food myself or Leon would make me eat it on my knees. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. I knew a hard place I wanted to be caught under…

“Kira.” Leon’s voice pulled me back from that train of thought, and I blinked several times. “Were you even listening to me?”

“Of course,” I lied, grabbing a piece of bacon and biting it even though I was already full.

“Bullshit.” His lips spread in a soft smile that made me wonder where all the air in the room had gone. “You were thinking about last night.”

“No,” I said, even though it was not a question.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, and I caught the threat underneath it.

My heart skipped a beat, and I wondered why the thought of disobeying him excited me. Was I so eager to get punished by him? Of course, I was. “I think last night was a mistake,” I blurted out and raised my head, expecting him to look disappointed or furious.

He was neither. If anything, he looked amused. “Why do you think that?”

“Come on, Leon. You know what we did was crazy. We’d both had too much to drink and…”

“Bullshit. You barely had two glasses of wine. You didn’t agree to my proposal because you were drunk, Kira. You agreed to it because you wanted to.” He got to his feet, and l was forced to look up at him. Big mistake. “You’re in desperate need of some excitement in your life, baby girl, and I’m going to make sure you get it. You and I both know you’ve been drifting aimlessly for a while, and you need someone to take control. Someone to tell you what to do…”

“Maybe,” I admitted in a whisper. It was hard to lie to him when he was looking down at me with that look in his eyes. “But what happens after here? When we get back to the real world.”

“Who cares?” he asked, cupping my face and pulling me close. “Three days, Kira. You’re mine for the next three days.”

“Fine,” I conceded. “You want to tell me what to do and when to eat? Fine. If it helps me start writing again, I’ll do anything you tell me to do. But the other part… the sex…? We don’t have to do that, do we?”

“Baby girl, that’s the most important part.” He cleared a path on the table with a sweep of his arm and lifted me from the chair like I weighed nothing. “Daddy has to make sure his baby girl is well taken care of. That means making sure she gets enough sleep, eats well, and has her sexual needs taken care of,” he said as he sat me down on the edge of the table.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled as he grabbed the edge of my shirt and pulled it over my head. His presence confused me, twisting my senses inside and out. Why else was I protesting when I was willingly allowing him to undress me in the middle of his kitchen? “Three days?” I whispered as my shorts slid down my legs.

“The weekend is ours, baby girl.” I liked it when he called me his baby girl. Liked it so much I felt a sprinkle of wetness between my legs. “How about this?” He pushed me so I lay down on the table and raised my legs so my feet were planted firmly on the table. “I won’t make you climax until you beg me to.”

“Okay,” I replied, drunk on arousal and too intoxicated by his touch to understand what I was agreeing to.

“Wrong answer,” he replied and smacked my thighs.

I gasp, feeling the shock of pain radiate outwardly to tease the edge of my labia. “But I agreed,” I cried. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“When Daddy asks you a question, how do you answer?” he asked, a look of disapproval in his eyes.

“Yes, Daddy,” I said and saw his lips curl in approval.

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