Page 45 of Daddy's Rules

“You don’t scream at people from the car window.”

Shrugging a shoulder, she says, “You may not, but I do. Especially when we’re in a hurry.”

“Excuse me?” I tighten my grip on her hand and give it a little squeeze. “When you’re in my car, you’ll follow my rules,” I tell her. “And rule number one is, you do not act aggressively toward pedestrians or other drivers under my watch. Ever.”

Her lower lip sticks out in a little pout and she crosses her arms on her chest. “Why not?”

“Because I said so,” I snap, hearing the futility of my command the second I say the words. I’m letting my frustration bring out the authoritarian in me.

She humphs in the seat next to me. Well, that went over well.

“Listen,” I tell her. “If you act aggressively in a car, you put yourself in danger. There are people who struggle with road rage and we don’t need a target on our backs.”

She sits quietly.

“So when you’re driving with me or alone, you don’t beep at people, roll down the window and scream at them, or do anything else that could jeopardize your safety. Understood?”

I can feel frustration pulsing off her but she just nods her head. “Yeah,” she says.

I give her a quick slap to the thigh. “Try that again, little girl.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

She’d probably do very well right now with a full session right over my lap, but we don’t have time. One thing is clear to me, though: Jordan needs a firm hand, and she does a helluva lot better when I grant her that.

“Alright,” I tell her. “Here we are. Let’s go.”

We exit the car and I’ve got Jordan’s hand in one of mine, and the dog treats in the other. Before we can get to the apartment building, we see a woman yanking a Yorkie on a tattered leash.

“Beast!” Jordan yells and the dog stops digging his feet into the concrete and instead flies toward us only to be yanked back. The little guy yips loudly and I see Jordan’s face turn red. I grab her by the upper arm before she can run.

“Christ!” I shout. “What the hell are you doing to that dog?” The woman doesn’t look back but walks faster, disappearing around a corner. I don’t know who it is but it’s not Kari-Anne Bowing. Was it Beast though?

“Come on!” Jordan says and starts dragging me as if I’m on a leash. Oh, hell no.

“Slow down. We don’t even know if that’s Beast. He didn’t have the blue collar on.”

“I know him, and that was definitely him.” She ignores my suggestion to slow down and I’m growing impatient with her.

“Jordan!” I give her a sharp smack on the ass to get her attention, which makes her pause and pout angrily. “If you don’t start obeying me, I’m going to bare your ass right here and redden it in front of whoever walks by.” Her cheeks flush and she looks down.

“But we’re so close,” she says in a shaky but quiet voice. I lean in and kiss her cheek. I understand how hard this is for her. She’s not used to waiting for things and not used to following anyone else’s lead.

“Baby,” I whisper. “Behave and when I get you back home, I’ll give you a good girl spanking. I’ll warm your ass with my belt and tie you up so I can do whatever the hell I want to you. I’ll make you come and scream my name. Your ass will be hot with the stripes from my belt, your body marked by my teeth, but still you’ll beg for more.”

She shivers in delight and I tip her chin so she’s focused solely on me.

“But you have to be a good girl,” I tell her. “Otherwise, that good girl spanking becomes something else.” I give her another smack on the rear, but this time it’s gentle.

Her cheeks flame a deeper pink. “I can behave,” she whispers.

We’re walking along the street in a neighborhood that’s known for drugs. Calling for the dog, following the path the woman took, I’m waving the bag of treats when something grabs my attention. There’s something moving in the bushes ahead of us.

Curiously, I make my way there, but everything is still.

“What are you doing, Owen?” Jordan asks. “She’s getting away!”

“I thought I saw something in the bushes. I guess it’s just my imagination.” Just to be sure I shake the bag again.

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