Page 142 of Morally Gray Daddies

“No!” I cried, unable to stop myself.

Fin stopped rubbing, his hands gripped Damon’s shoulders as he rolled him onto his back and forced Damon to stare into his eyes. “Babyboy.”

The word hung in the air. He was too upset to say anything else.

Damon’s eyes rushed back and forth, searching Fin’s, as if drawing from a strength I wasn’t sure was there.

Slowly Fin shook his head. “It’s not that bad, babyboy. It can’t be. We’ll work through it together, whatever it is.”

“Hold me,” Damon croaked.

Fin quickly gathered the man we’d both loved into his arms, and my throat grew thick with a fresh round of unshed tears as I watched a love that was so much stronger than I’d ever suspected unfold in front of my eyes.

Fin held him, and I expected Damon to break. I thought this would be the end. But after only a minute, Fin pulled away, caught Damon’s gaze with his and shook his head. “Being held isn’t what you need, is it?”

Damon

Being wrapped in Fin’s strong arms again felt damn good, but he was right. It wasn’t what I needed. I needed punishment, I needed pain. I needed absolution. I needed… my Daddy.

Slowly, I shook my head from side to side, until my gaze landed on his belt, draped over the footboard.

I couldn’t look away. Daddy’s belt. How many times had it striped my ass as I worked through guilt and the stress of the world? Life had been so much simpler then. I couldn’t imagine it would still be effective after everything. And I certainly wasn’t going to admit that it was what I wanted.

But god help me, it was.

Fin must have followed my gaze because after a minute more, he cleared his throat and nodded. “Right, then. On your feet, babyboy. Daddy has some things to say.”

My body went limp. I couldn’t have gotten to my feet if I wanted to. I needed to be forced. I needed his hands on me. I needed him to make me comply, just the same way I had Sabrina.

Not that I’d tell him that, or expect my soft, stern, even-keeled Fin to recognize that, or even know what to do with it. He could be tough, and fiercely protective, but he didn’t have the same darkness in him that I did.

Also, I easily had sixty pounds on him, if not more. Yet when you’re talking about a Daddy and his babyboy, size doesn’t matter apparently. Fin hauled me to my feet easily, turned me around and positioned me with my hands on the mattress, my feet spread apart.

I heard him draw a shaky breath, and felt Sabrina’s eyes on me, but when I glanced up at her, I didn’t see judgment or anger or fear, only love.

It didn’t feel real. None of it did. The look on her face, Fin behind me, it was like a dream, like maybe I was still in jail after all, and none of this was real. Maybe it was just another fantasy to get me through the day.

Almost as if he knew what I was thinking, Fin jumped into action, and the first lick of leather against my ass assured me that this was most certainly not a dream.

God, it hurt. I’d forgotten how much. Like with most things, absence had made the heart grow fonder and I’d romanticized the pain for so long.

The second sharp lash almost had my knees buckling as the leather bounced against my clenched asscheeks. A wave of pain like being stung by a hive full of bees blossomed and spread across the surface of my ass, then settled deep in the tissue. I sucked in a breath, though, and welcomed the wave of emotion the pain brought with it.

I allowed myself to get lost in it and my own thoughts. The jumbled mess that they were. I thought about the mistakes I’d made, the circumstances I’d fallen victim to, and the anger I’d held at what I’d felt was betrayal from the people I loved most. I thought about how I ended up here, and what I planned to do after. Could I? Would I? Fin didn’t want me to, or he claimed not to, but was that because that was what he was supposed to say?

I was about to succumb to the power of the pain when Fin’s voice piped up behind me. “You were a bad boy. You didn’t listen to Daddy. You refused my help and look where it got you.”

I was more of a badass these days, but there was something about being called a bad boy that just about did me in. Because Fin was speaking the things I’d heard in my head for years. If only I’d listened to him, I wouldn’t have been a pawn in a game I couldn’t have understood. I wouldn’t have fucked up so badly. I wouldn’t have lost years of my life. I wouldn’t have lost the loves of my life.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped out brokenly. The words fell from my lips before I could rein them in, before I could even think about putting up my tough guy facade.

Fin didn’t speak–he let his damn belt do the talking for him. Each lick of leather against the center of my ass, each stripe spoke loudly of his displeasure. The pain became easier to take when I thought about the hurt and emotion behind each stroke.

I arched my ass out of him, welcoming the correction, reveling in the pain. The delicious burn across the surface of my throbbing skin seemed to wash away the emotional anguish I’d been feeling–or at least made it impossible to concentrate on. The deep ache in my gluteal muscles assured me I’d be reminded of him for at least several hours to come. I hoped it was longer. I wanted to feel him every time I moved.

“Six more,” he finally said, when I thought I’d reached my limit. “One for each year we had to miss you, for each year we had to miss each other. And then we forgive. Both of us. Ourselves. Each other.”

I grunted, because my throat was thick with tears threatening to fall. He was asking a lot. Maybe too much. I could forgive Fin, sure. Maybe even Sabrina. But forgiving myself? I didn’t know how. Not this time.

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