Page 80 of Merciless Daddy

“That,” I said. “Write that.”

He did.

Watching his hand move made warmth collect between my thighs. It was absurd. Ink on paper should not have been erotic.

But the page was becoming a place where I could surrender without disappearing.

Nothing had ever made me want a man more.

We separated security rules from Daddy rules.

Security was not play.

If there was a credible threat, I followed operational instructions immediately. Not because I was Little. Not because he owned me. Because hesitation got people killed.

“If I disagree?” I asked.

“You tell me after you are out of danger.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“I apologize. I’m a human being, bella.”

“You? Apolgize? I don’t see it.”

“I can do it. I have done it many times.”

“Using words?”

His look was dry. “Potentially even complete sentences.”

I wrote that down.

The chosen rules came next.

Regular meals.

“A reasonable meal,” I said. “You are not deciding portions.”

“Agreed.”

“You do not make comments about my weight.”

“I have no criticism of any part of your body. It’s out of the question. Plus, I’m not a liar—I won’t do it.”

His eyes moved over me once.

Slowly.

My pulse jumped.

“That was not an invitation to ogle me,” I said.

“I know.”

“Stop looking pleased.”

“I’m not pleased.”