Chapter 20

When I open my eyes, I remember what happened last night. How it felt to have his warm cum just beneath the surface of his pants. How it felt to command such a man. Even though I know it took a lot for him to allow it, I want to do it over and over.

It has me wondering if this is just cabin fever setting in. With the world locked away, it's easy to get lost in the only other human in the vicinity. But even as I try to convince myself that it is, I know it's not. What's between him and me is unlike anything I've ever felt before.

When I stretch, I notice my leg is less painful, and I smile. I'm healing. But he's promised to punish me once I am healed, so I don't know if that's a good thing.

When I finally get done in the bathroom, I exit my room and find Slate sitting at the table. There's another place setting, across from him, coffee steaming from a mug he's poured for me. I almost frown at how far away it is from his.

Things have certainly shifted between us, even though neither one of us is ready to admit it yet.

"Good morning," he says, sipping from his coffee cup.

"Morning." It's still dark out, but I always wake when he does. To the scent of bacon and toast and roasted coffee wafting through the air.

I move my cup over, and he eyes me, one brow perching upward. I lift my plate and fork he laid out for me, taking it with me to his side of the table as I stand next to him.

He smirks, setting his cup down and pushing his chair back, giving me room to sit on his lap.

When I slide into his lap, I turn toward him. I know it's going to throw him off-kilter, but I do it anyway. I grab his chin, turning his face toward mine as I kiss him softly. Just a peck, but I hover after it's done.

"Good morning," I whisper.

He growls, and I feel it through my entire body. "I think we covered that."

I smirk. "Mmm, did we?"

He reaches over his plate toward mine, lifting toast to my mouth.

"Open, hungry bunny," he orders, and I do so, not letting my eyes leave his.

When I lick crumbs from my lips after chewing and swallowing the bite down, his lips part as a breath passes through them.

I'm famished. Starving for something other than anything he's cooked for me. But I know I need to take my time. Flesh this out and make sure it's not just some passing obsession I'll get over. Like the time I thought I was in love with Brad Kent in high school. That was a fucking disaster.

"You need to get dressed," he grumbles, forking up eggs and feeding them to me.

To an outsider looking in, they'd think I was losing my mind. That I look like a kept animal, doing his bidding to get a treat. But it's more than that. It's the most cared for I've ever felt, being in his lap. Being fed from his hand. There's something primal about it, and I can't get enough.

"Why do I need to do that?" I ask, taking another bite of toast.

He skims his hand up my thigh, and I gasp, shifting forward in absolute hope he'll keep going. "First of all, so I can get something done around here without thinking of you in the cabin bare beneath that fucking blanket."

I roll my eyes. "I like that blanket."

"I know you do. I'm sure that blanket likes you right back, bunny." He runs his gaze up and down my body.

My nipples rise to the occasion.

He groans. "See. I can't be productive like this."

"Well, you're the one who took my clothes."

Now he rolls his eyes, shoving enough toast in my mouth to keep me silent for a good two minutes. "Tattered rags, they were. Unworthy of touching this beautiful skin."

That keeps me silent even after I've swallowed my mouthful of toast. What does a girl say back to that?

"I've bought you worthy things and some that are practical. Wear something practical today, as we'll be working outside."

I perk up. "Outside?"

He nods. "If you're going to be here, you have to do more than read all my books and eat all my snacks."

Am I going to remain here? Am I his hostage any longer?

I clear my throat, eyes dropping as thoughts tangle in my head.

He lifts my face, one finger under my chin. "What is it?"

"Well, I just wonder…" I stop, thinking how to word what I want to ask. "I only wondered if I am going to remain here. Am I your captive? What am I to you?"

He searches my eyes. And there's something within him I can't put my finger on. "You're mine. And if you run, I'll catch you. Every time you run, I'll find you and drag you back, bunny. You think of yourself as whatever you need to so that you can sleep at night. But know this, I don't take kindly to things I own being taken from me."

A shiver rakes through my bones. I lick my lips.

"Stop doing that," he growls, feeding me the last bite of food. "I just said we need to be productive."

"I did nothing," I tell him.

A heartbeat passes, and then he's on me. His hand grips my pussy firmly in hand. I lean into his hold, eyes wandering over where he holds me. "No lies. Ever."

His command is firm, in a don't fuck with me tone.

I nod. "Okay."

But he squeezes, causing me to squeal. I lift my eyes toward him, searching for the right answer on his face.

"Yes, Daddy, is what I want to hear when you answer me."

Fuck!

I nod, forgetting myself under his intense stare. "Yes, Daddy," I whimper.

"Mmm, now go get dressed. Take your coffee with you. We don't waste things in this house."

I grab my coffee, making for the room before he calls my name.

I turn back. He crooks his finger, beckoning me back to his side.

"Don't spill," he says, and I don't know what he means until he takes two fingers and slips them between my folds.

"Mmm, you might be my kind of girl, after all. Just look how wet you are, bunny."

He tugs his fingers back, and they're glistening with arousal. Arousal he caused.

"Well, go on, get dressed," he tells me dismissively. I don't miss how he pops his fingers into his mouth, though, sucking my juices off them before he groans.

When I get into my room and shut the door, I close my eyes and try to regain my composure.

I set my coffee down on the dresser, slipping my own fingers through the mess he'd made. When it feels good to swirl around my engorged clit, I keep going.

A loud bang hits the outside of the door. "Don't touch what doesn't belong to you, bunny."

I clear my throat, pulling my fingers back. "Yes, Daddy."

I swear I hear a chuckle as he walks away from the door.

Sadist.

* * *

I'd gonewith sweats and flannel, not wanting anything tight on my healing thigh. I slip into my waterproof boots, donning socks he'd gotten me. He has exquisite taste. Some pieces were from designers I'd never heard of because the tags told me I couldn't afford them.

"Ready?" he asks as I limp out of the room, fully clothed for the first time in well over a week. I won't lie, the clothes feel odd.

He's on his computer, ticking away on the keys as I set my empty coffee mug in the sink.

"Yes, I'm ready." I don't know if it's the right answer. If I am supposed to always address him as Daddy, or only when things are intense between us? Sexual.

"Usually I'd have you kneel beside me until I was ready to go, but since you're wounded, you can sit in that chair." He nods his head to the chair next to him.

Kneel beside him?

Even though it sounds degrading, I look at the spot next to his massive boots that lead to his muscular legs longingly.

What is it about this man that makes me feral and submissive all at the same time?

He furiously clicks away on his keyboard, and only a couple of minutes pass before he nods and shuts it. "Alright, let's go. The animals await."

"Animals?" I ask, pushing off the table with my hands to stand.

He helps me down the steps carefully, holding my hand to keep me from falling as he leads us out through the snow. Our fingers are intertwined, and a thrill is racing in my veins when he drops my hand to open a barn door before us.

Goats bleat, and a cow turns in a stall.

"Whoa!" I say, moving closer as two baby goats trot up to me.

I reach down before thinking and then lift my hand back up, looking at Slate.

"You can pet them. But don't touch…" he trails off, looking around the barn. "That one," he finishes, pointing at a black billy goat with bright blue eyes and menacing horns. "He's a dick."

There's a lightness to him while he's with the animals. As I help him feed and water, only watching him muck the stalls from afar, I take in the side of him that I bet he never lets another soul see.

"So, this job of yours," I start as Slate is gathering eggs, handing them to me as I try not to jostle them.

"Old job. I'm out."

I'm out.

Like he left the mob, or something.

You watch too much television, Brynne.

My mother would agree with the voice in my head, and I inwardly roll my eyes.

"You left it? Or are you hiding?" I ask, trying my damnedest not to step over any lines.

He eyes me, giving me the last egg and then smacking his hands together to get the hay off his gloves. "Does it matter?"

I shrug. "I guess not. I was just trying to?—"

"Trying to what?" He cuts me off.

"To know you, you big brute!" I glower.

He leads me out of the chicken coop and back towards the house. "Why do you want to know me?"

I don't have a suitable answer because there are too many and yet none at all. There's no right thing to say, so I remain silent.

"And you?" he says, helping me up the steps by my elbow as my arms are full of eggs. "What do you do?"

"I'm a server. And I bartend at a few places back home."

I shut the door, moving in front of me to take the eggs and place them in a carton carefully. "Where is home?"

"Florida."

He laughs as he gets the last egg from me, and I let my burning arms drop. "You're from Florida and you thought you could survive here?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "My dad was a survivalist. It started as a joke, honestly." I sit at the table as he makes lunch for us both. "I needed money. I was drowning. The show was offering two million to survive until the end. My friend Alyssa brought it up, and I submitted my application. After I watched some videos of him and me and saw all the memories of how much time and effort he put into helping me toughen up for the world I'd be thrust into after childhood, it became something more," I admit.

He sets down a tomato sandwich in front of me, tomatoes between two slices of homemade bread, and my mouth waters.

"It became a mission to do him proud?" he asks, giving me a glass of water.

I nod as I wait for him to sit. "I was doing alright until I came across a rogue, angry Italian in the woods."

He smirks as he sits, pushing back to give me room, but I don't immediately move.

"You were doing well."

I gasp, standing and eyeing him with my hands on my hips. "You were watching me!"

He smiles. "Hard not to, bunny. Now sit and eat with me before you become the meal."

Even though I want to argue that I'd gladly like to become the meal, I do as I'm told.

We eat in silence; him feeding me in between feeding himself.

"This is weird, me feeding you, right? The things I like with women are something I've always had to pay them to do with me, for me," he admits.

I don't look at him, giving him the space to get whatever he needs to off his chest. "You paid them to let you take care of them?" I ask.

"Yes."

So many questions are burning in my throat, but I keep quiet before finally meeting his eyes.

"I don't know why, so don't ask. It's just something I need. But it never felt all the way… right. But with you, taking care of you, fuck, it's fantastic."

I lick my lips, and his eyes follow my tongue's path hungrily.

"I don't think it's weird. I don't know why, so don't ask me," I tell him, echoing his earlier words.

He smirks. "I'm not a good man."

"I gathered."

"You're going to run when you see the real me, Brynne."

"I won't use the window."

A laugh barrels out of him, and I'm stuck watching him in awe. I've never seen something so breathtaking, and the fact I'd made it happen fills my chest with pride.

"See that you don't," he tells me, shooing me off his lap, and I make for the living room so he can't see the disappointment in my eyes at the loss of his touch.