Page 6 of Thick

"Nah-nah-nah-nah!"

"Enough, Zelda!" Brennan barks, cutting off my noises almost instantly.

My mouth snaps shut, and I look at him unblinkingly. With those two words, he manages to do something no Dom or Daddy has ever done.

"If you don't want to talk about something, that's fine. You say so. That said, we are going to talk about this."

I open my mouth to start again, but he does the unthinkable and gives me a look that hits me so hard that I nearly rock backwards.

And the Niagra Falls gushes between my legs.

"We don't have to talk about it now. You've been through something traumatic, and Kaz and I will respect it. But mark my words; wewillsit down and discuss this. Have I made myself clear?"

My head bobs up and down in response, and he gives me another look.

"Yes, Sir," I mutter before spontaneously combusting from the scorching hot looks.

four

Sugarplum

Zelda

Most days, I lovebeing a submissive.

Okay. Not most days. Maybe just when I find the right kind of Dominant.

Wait. That's a lie, too. I've never found the right kind of Dom. Fudgestickles. Why am I even a submissive?

Brennan goes all 'You'll do what I say' on me, and I'm powerless to resist. It's hot. He's hot. All I have for him is a bunch of 'Yes, Sirs'. The entire time he gives me his list of rules and regulations according to the Law of Brennan Bossy McBossypants, Kaz just sits there and grins at us like some kind of sneaky-ass cat that ate the entire swarm of canaries.

Want a breakdown of laws? You've got it.

I will return home only once my kitchen is fixed. Not only that, but I can't even stay at Edie's. Nope, I have to stay intheirspare bedroom so they can keep an eye on me.

Food will be consumed at least twice a day—and he didn't even give me a chance to tell him that wasalreadya rule I'd come up with all by myself.

And the ickiest rule of all? Apparently, while I live with them, I need to have a healthier work/life balance. Goodness knows how he knows I work just a teensy bit too much, but there you have it.

How is a girl supposed to keep up with all her projects if she doesn't put in a few extra hours now and then?

Worst of all?

I honestly, legitimately, do not know why I don't tell him to get stuffed.

Who the hell does Brennan McBossypants think he is, to tell me what I will and won't do?

But I want to please him. More than anything, I don't wanna make him mad or have him look at me like I nearly gave him a heart attack.

I've hardly spoken to them before this. To be honest, I've avoided them as much as possible to avoid people who live across the hallway from me. So I don't completely understand his concern or censure, but it makes a deep part of me feel very squishy and warm. So I'm sucking it up and going with it.

For now.

If he turns into too much of an ass, I'll go bunk with Edie. Screw what he says.

Maybe.

Probably.

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