Page 30 of Daddy's Rules

“Go on my laptop and look at your account. See how much you’ve saved.” She breaks out in a huge grin and jumps off my lap. I watch her ass as she walks away.

“I’ve saved money?” she calls back as she heads for my office.

I yawn before I answer. “Yes, you have, baby, and I am so proud of you.”

“Daddy, why are you so tired?” She pauses at the door and turns to look at me.

“I had a client who was in crisis last night. I didn’t get home until after twelve.” Her back goes rigid.

“Client? Like a legal client?”

“Yes, client and no, not a legal one,” I say, stifling another yawn. “A new one. I’m sorry, I can’t tell you details.” I sign nondisclosure agreements with all of my clients. Everything is confidential. The call came past my usual hours, through my voicemail. I rarely call clients back in the evening, but Ellen was distraught.

She’d met a dom online who forbade her from seeing me again. Although I understood his concerns, the dominant in me couldn’t help but listen to her apprehensions since she’d had her trust broken before.

Jordan sniffs, her pretty lips turned down in a frown. I can feel upset radiating off her in little waves. She turns to leave again but I rise and quickly go to her. I grab her by the elbow before she has a chance to escape from me.

“Where do you think you’re huffing off to?” I ask her, clueless as to why one minute she was sweet and submissive and now she looks as if she’s ready to throw a fit. What the hell?

Yanking her elbow out of my hand, she spins around to glare at me. “Let me go,” she says. “I have to take Beast out.”

“Nope,” I say, lowering my voice to the stern, corrective tone she knows means business. “Sit.”

Her gaze swings to the door and to my bed. She worries her lip as if she’s trying to make a decision. If she disobeys me, she gets a spanking. Is that what she wants?

“Jordan,” I warn. “If you disobey me, you know what happens.” Crossing her arms on her chest, she looks like a toddler.

“Yeah. I know what happens,” she spits out, furious. “The same thing that happens to every other woman who sets foot inside your office. The same thing that happens to every other woman who breaks one of your stupid rules.”

I blink in surprise before I sit up in bed. I’m still in boxers and a t-shirt, but that won’t stop me from swinging her right over my lap if necessary.

“And then you—”

“Jordan.” I stop her immediately, my voice sharp. “Enough.” What’s come over her? Is she... jealous? And how did we go from her asking to go out with her friends for some fun to this?

She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth, then exhales with a furious little “hmmph.”

“I have clients I discipline,” I tell her with practiced patience. “But you know that. You’ve known that all along.” I narrow my eyes a little. “Just like you know none of them are romantic relationships. Not even a little.” I’ve explained this to her, but it seems she needs reminding.

Her chest rises and falls faster as she continues to glare. I continue. “This is my job. So why are you giving me an attitude about it now? Everything I do with them is platonic. They’re fully clothed. I don’t even touch them. I always discipline with an implement.”

“It’s not a job,” she says, her voice accusing but shaky and uncertain. “I... I just...” Her jaw tightens a moment before she speaks again. “Are we all the same to you?” Her voice pitches off at a higher tone. “I mean... what makes me any different?”

“Baby,” I say, my voice softening. Her eyes start to shine with tears.

“No,” she says, her voice shaking. “Listen. I... well, we... we’re... platonic. You don’t touch me either.” Her chin wobbles. God. I don’t know if I want to gather her up in my arms and hold her up against my chest or drape her over my knee and spank some sense into her. Maybe both.

I crook a finger silently in her direction. She shakes her head in defiance. But one word is all it takes. “Now.” With her lower lip jutting out, she walks to me, her steps slower as she nears.

“You’re not punishing me for this.”

It’s really cute how she thinks she’s in control here. She wields power, and I’ll always give her autonomy, but she doesn’t really want that control. Too much, and she spirals out, uncertain of herself. When she reaches me, I pull her back onto my lap and let her settle there. At first, her back’s rigid, and her lips remain pressed in a firm line. I start by rubbing my hand in firm circles on her back until a little bit of the tension eases and I begin speaking in low, soothing tones.

She needs firmness but she needs understanding, too. Right here is a little girl who’s hurt and needs her daddy. “Jordan,” I say after a minute of rubbing her back.

“Yeah?” Without missing a beat, I crack my hand on the upper part of her ass. “Yes, Daddy?” she amends, squirming, but I still hear some defiance in her tone.

“Those women don’t mean anything to me,” I tell her. She doesn’t say anything. I let my words sink in, running my fingers through her hair. She closes her eyes and lets me stroke her scalp, over and over again. When she sighs and her mouth softens, I pull her head against my chest and kiss her forehead. She lays a hand on me, her feminine fingers against the stark white of my shirt.

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