Page 14 of Her Bossy Daddy

“Yes, love. I always do.” Liam kissed my lips once and then my forehead before letting go of me. “Get up and off the floor. You need to write an FAQ sheet.”

“Yes, Sir.” I grabbed my things and retreated out the door. I had been in there alone for at least fifteen minutes or more and we didn’t need any rumors.

* * *

Liam

I called Lacey on my way home from work, but the phone went straight to voicemail. Either she’d lost her charger again, or she was rejecting the call. Since we’d talked about the importance of having her phone charged, and I’d told her a few hours ago in person that I’d call her, this behavior concerned me. I shook my head and then changed my route. Our houses weren’t too far from one another, and I needed to check on her. I parked my car in her driveway and then got out and knocked on the door. She didn’t answer. I waited a few minutes and tried the doorbell. No answer. I twisted open the doorknob. Mentally I noted a reminder to tell Lacey to lock her front door as I bolted it behind me. Why hadn’t she answered?

I walked through her kitchen and living room and then turned into her bedroom. “Lacey?”

“Oh!” she screamed and jumped. Lacey was curled up in bed with one hand on her tablet and the other one occupied under the covers. Her cheeks blushed scarlet. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“I imagine it is or your face wouldn’t be such a pretty shade of pink.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“I thought something was wrong, love. You didn’t answer my call, and your front door was unlocked. Anyone could have just strolled in here and robbed you or worse.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, the time just escaped me.” Lacey set her tablet on the nightstand. “Can you please give me a minute?”

“Of course.” I left her in the bedroom and waited semi-patiently on the couch. She emerged about ten minutes later in a pair of flannel pajama shorts and a black tank top. Lacey looked so damned cute. Cute enough she’d almost made me forget what I’d been planning. Almost.

“I’m so sorry.” She flopped down into the couch. “Wait. Am I in trouble?” Her arms crossed over her chest and she raised an eyebrow.

“Your attitude isn’t winning you any points, love.” I moved her arms down to her sides. “I thought we could talk a bit and then order takeout.”

“What sort of talking do you have in mind?”

“You insinuated if I punished you at our office today, that the repercussions wouldn’t be so nice.” I watched her work through the memory, and concern etched her features. “Do you care to elaborate?”

“Oh?” She bit down on her lip and worked it in and out between her teeth. “I was irritated, but I would never jeopardize your career intentionally.”

“I’ve sacrificed an awful lot to be here, Lacey. I don’t ever want to hear a threat come from your lips.” I stood up and yanked her to her feet. “Get me?”

“Yes.” She trembled visibly. “I promise not to say something like that again.”

“Good.” I grasped the waistband of her shorts, and slipped them down to her feet in one quick motion. She raised each foot in turn and then I laid the garment on the couch. I removed her strappy tank top until she stood naked in front of me. I trailed my right hand across her entire behind and smirked. “Your arse isn’t warm anymore, love, but I’m about to change that.”

“Please, Liam—” she started but I pressed the fingers of my left hand to her dripping pussy and then rolled her clit in between my thumb and pointer finger. Her head fell back on her shoulders. “Sir.”

“You’re soaked. You’ve been thinking about my belt all day, haven’t you?” I slapped her mound once and then again. “Is that what you were reading about in your bed? Some naughty fantasies?”

“I-I don’t want to be punished with your belt.”

“Well, then you should have kept your snarky attitude in check today, right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Bend over the couch, and keep your hands on the cushions. If you reach back, I’ll start over.” She hurried and got into position. Lacey enjoyed reading about belts and straps in her books but there was a huge difference between an erotic strapping and a disciplinary one. I unbuckled my belt and yanked it through the loops of my pants. “Six strokes, love. Count them.”

“Only six?”

“Are you questioning my judgment on how to punish you, Lacey? It would be very poor timing on account of your behind.”

“I meant to start counting.” She blew out a breath and braced for the strap. “One, Sir.”

I landed the first one on her right cheek, and she yelled out. No. She hadn’t been prepared for this type of punishment in person but to her credit, she hadn’t moved. “Count, love.”

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