Chapter 7

Riley

I don't know why, but a feeling of sadness spiraled through me the moment the door shut behind him, the second he'd left me alone.

My ass still burned from his hand, and I should be angry about it, but instead I felt an odd sense of calm.

Everyone else in my life had turned their back on me, had decided that I was a lost cause that couldn't be fixed, and they'd given up on me, but not Maxim.

For some reason, he was the only person that seemed to give a damn about me, and I couldn't understand why. Maybe it was because he pitied me, or maybe it was something else.

I didn't know, but the truth was that he was the only one that seemed to care whether I lived or died, and that was more than I could say for anyone else in the world.

I looked back at the door, wanting to call out to him, but I didn't. I held my tongue. I don't know what made me keep quiet, but I decided it didn't matter.

Feeling uneasy, I pulled the covers up to my chin, trying to get comfortable in the warm cocoon of blankets and having no luck.

Even with the heat from the spanking radiating through my body, the room felt chilly and cold and lonely.

I rolled over onto my side, pulling my legs up to my chest and curling in on myself, trying to will myself to sleep, but the truth was, I just wanted Maxim to come back.

The more time that went on, the more another realization began to brew to the surface.

I was hot, so fucking hot that I was starting to sweat. I could feel my heartbeat thrumming through my veins. I tossed and turned, feeling the sheets rub against my skin, making me hotter.

I kicked my legs out from under the blankets. When that didn't help, I kicked them off altogether, leaving my body mostly bare and exposed.

My core throbbed with heat.

I swallowed heavily, finally coming to the conclusion that I was unbearably, impossibly, and utterly aroused. My pussy clenched down hard, and I reached between my legs, rubbing myself over the silky material of my panties.

I was already so fucking wet.

Fuck.

I didn't know if I was still wet from the spanking or thinking about Maxim seeing my naked pussy and my bare ass, or any and all of the above.

I rubbed my fingers over my panties again.

Fuck, why did it feel so good?

It felt so fucking good that I didn't even care if he walked in on me right now and found me touching myself.

What would he do? Would he tell me I was naughty again before taking me over his knee for a second spanking that made the first seem like it was nothing? Would he reach between my legs and touch my pussy himself?

Would he spank me there too for being so naughty as to touch myself and come while thinking about him touching me?

Oh, God, the very idea of that was so fucking delicious and naughty and bad that it sent a new wave of slick arousal dripping down my thighs. The knot of arousal in my core tightened and I chewed on my lip, trying to keep control of myself as my body spiraled clean out of it.

My nipples hardened into tight buds, pressing insistently against the silky material of my camisole, which rubbed against the sensitive tips, making me groan out loud.

I couldn't take it.

It felt like an electric storm had gathered within me, and the only way to escape it was to get some relief, to find some sort of release.

Sure, I'd touched myself before. I'd given myself an orgasm on rare occasion in the middle of the night, safe from prying eyes, but I'd never felt like this.

Never.

Right now, I felt like my whole world was tilted on its edge.

My clit throbbed beneath the thin fabric of my underwear, and I rubbed against it harder. My ass burned from the residual heat of the spanking, but it only added to my arousal.

I wanted him to touch me again.

Fuck.

That was a bad idea.

Maxim was older than me, by a lot, and I was sure he was probably married.

He couldn't possibly want a woman like me.

My fingers smoothed over my clit; I paused, and I decided I didn't care if this was a bad idea or a good one.

I was doing it.

My fingers rubbed over my clit, circling over the bundle of nerves again and again, the sensations so intense that it took everything in me not to come right then and there. My desire spiraled, higher and higher up into the clouds and just when I was about to come, my mouth opened, and a single word slipped free from my lips.

"Daddy."

That was the only thing I could think about as I touched myself.

He was older. He was stern. He was demanding.

He was everything a daddy should be, and the realization made me come, hard and fast.

My legs squeezed together, and it took everything in me not to scream out loud. Instead, I turned my head and bit the pillow, holding a moan in the back of my throat as my body pulsed and my pussy contracted over and over.

The wave of pleasure rushed through me, taking me by surprise and leaving my mind whirling with electric fire. I squeezed my eyes shut as my body writhed and trembled with the power of my climax.

But it wasn't enough.

I needed him.

I needed his touch, not mine.

I needed it to be Daddy.

I woke up the next morning with a groan. The sunlight streaming through the window was a glaring reminder that it was time to face the day.

The only problem was I didn't know how I was going to face it, and Maxim, after last night.

After he spanked me and after I touched myself while thinking about that very thing.

What was I supposed to say?

A fresh wave of shame spiraled through me, and I pulled the covers up and over my head.

I was going to stay here, forever, and never show my face.

Not ever.

I didn't know which was worse; the fact that I had touched myself thinking about Maxim or that it was the best orgasm of my life.

Probably both. Yeah. Most definitely both.

A knock on the door startled me out of my reverie. I peeked my head out from under the blanket and sat up.

"Who is it?" I asked. I don't know why I asked. I knew it was him.

"It's Maxim," he replied softly, and I cleared my throat.

Guess there was no hiding out for the rest of the day. He opened the door slowly, poking his head inside.

The smile on his face was gentle and warm, and the butterflies fluttered in my stomach once again.

Oh, no.

What the hell was wrong with me?

"Breakfast will be in thirty minutes. I sent one of my men out for some clothing for you to change into. I put a rush order for a more comprehensive wardrobe for you and that should arrive tomorrow," he explained.

I blinked, and he stepped further into the room.

He was wearing a suit again, and I had to fight the urge not to sigh.

The man was just so handsome.

I shook my head, trying to get ahold of myself.

"Clothes? A comprehensive wardrobe? I don't need you to take care—" I began.

Maxim raised his hand slightly, silencing me with a calm but firm expression. "It's not up for discussion. It's my responsibility to ensure you are fully taken care of."

"But I don't want to be your responsibility," I countered, the frustration evident in my tone.

"You are my responsibility, whether you accept it willingly or not," Maxim replied, his voice steady and firm and I hated how my pussy clenched in response. "Until I can ensure your safety, you're under my protection, and that means you're going to need more than one outfit, little girl."

The use of little girl was sobering, yet my heart leapt almost as if to spite myself. I crossed my arms, sinking back against the headboard.

"And what if I want to leave?" I snapped.

His gaze met mine, unflinching. "You're not going anywhere. We both know that's not safe right now. You're not familiar with the extent of the danger outside these walls. Trust me when I say it's better for you to stay here."

The room filled with a tense silence as we stared at each other, the open challenge between us blatantly apparent. Finally, Maxim sighed and stepped back. I noticed then that he had a plain shopping bag in his hand, and he placed it down gently by the door.

"Inside, you'll find something to change into for breakfast. Please join me downstairs when you're ready," he said, his tone softening slightly.

With that, he closed the door behind him, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my eyes darting to the bag by the door.

A part of me wanted to throw it out the window and reject everything he was offering—or rather, imposing. But another part, the one that had softened at his smile and the concern in his eyes, was curious. With a frustrated groan at my own conflicting feelings, I threw off the covers and headed to the shower.

The hot water was a welcome distraction, helping to soothe the whirlwind of emotions swirling through me. As the steam filled the room, I tried to steady my thoughts and get a handle on whatever this was between the two of us.

Once out, I towel-dried my hair and glanced in the mirror, noting that my ass was still a little bit pink from my spanking last night. I blushed bright red and hurried out of the bathroom.

I reluctantly approached the bag Maxim had left.

Pulling out the contents, I found a simple, yet elegant outfit laid out for me. Despite myself, I couldn't help but appreciate the quality and style—it was perfectly my size, although the panties were a bit of a younger style, light pink with little strawberries all over them, but still cute.

I dressed quickly, my movements brisk as I tried to shake off the lingering warmth of his concern and the undeniable attraction that I felt toward him.

This was going to be a long day.

I found him in the kitchen, his back to me as he pulled out a pan and began to crack eggs into a bowl. He was humming softly to himself in a tune I didn't recognize, yet somehow, it was a soothing melody that made me feel even more relaxed despite the shame and nervousness and arousal pumping through me with every step.

"Why don't you take a seat at the table, Riley?" he suggested without turning around. Maybe he'd heard me walk into the room, but whatever it was, I didn't see a reason to argue with him.

Not when my stomach growled so loudly that I could hear it and I feared that he could too.

So I took a seat at the table and waited for my doom.

The tension between us only seemed to escalate as he finished cooking and plated the food. I watched silently as he poured a glass of orange juice and set it on the table beside a steaming mug of coffee.

He turned, placing the plate and the mug in front of me, his movements deliberate and calm. He then sat down and leaned back in his chair, surveying me with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through me.

"Eat something, Riley," he suggested, his voice even, but there was an undercurrent of firmness that made my stomach clench with nerves.

I ignored the plate in front of me for a moment, my emotions getting the best of me.

"You haven't really told me what happens now," I started, my voice steady despite the tremor I felt inside. "Am I a prisoner here?"

Maxim's lips twitched at that, not quite a smile but more a grimace of acknowledgment. "Not a prisoner," he clarified, taking a sip of his coffee. "Consider yourself under my protection."

I scoffed, folding my arms defensively. "From who? Because of Gregor?" I paused, lowering my voice.

Maxim set his cup down with a soft clink. "Yes. That's exactly why you need to be here," he replied. "You stumbled into something bigger than you realize. Gregor Orlov wasn't just some thug—he was connected, deeply. His death will have ripples, and until I figure out how deep those go, and how far those ripples will spread, you're in danger."

I processed this, the weight of the situation settling like a stone in my stomach. "So, what—am I just supposed to stay here indefinitely?"

"For now," Maxim responded, his gaze never wavering. "I have people looking into it. We need to ensure no one's coming after you for revenge."

"And then what?" I challenged, my frustration growing. "You say I'm not a prisoner, but it sure feels like it."

Maxim leaned forward, his expression serious. "I'm not looking to keep you here against your will forever, Riley, but I can't in good conscience let you walk into a potentially lethal situation."

"And what if it's never safe? What if this just keeps going?" I countered, my voice hardening.

He pondered my question for a moment, his jaw tightening. "Then we find a permanent solution that keeps you safe. Change identities, relocate you… whatever it takes."

The reality of his words hit me hard. My life, as I knew it, was over. And for what? A foolish mistake, a misjudgment of character.

This whole situation was the worst.

"We'll figure it out, Riley. You're not alone in this," he assured me, his voice low and perhaps the gentlest I had heard since meeting him.

Maybe even as gentle as his voice had been when he held me last night after my spanking.

I swallowed hard.

I stared at him, his words echoing in my mind. I wanted to argue with him. I wanted to curse him out and tell him exactly where to stick it, but it was hard when he was literally the only person who cared about what happened to me. Ever since my parents died, no one else had seemed to give a shit.

Until him.

That made the anger simmer down and fade away.

I nodded, letting him know that I heard him, and his shoulders relaxed.

"Now, please eat something," he instructed, gesturing to the plate in front of me.

I picked at the food at first before I finally started to really dig in. The flavors were delicious, spicy and hot and all the things that a home-cooked breakfast should be.

Maxim watched me for a moment, then set his own utensils down, his demeanor shifting to something more inquisitive.

"Riley," he started, his tone gentle yet carrying an edge of curiosity, "what exactly brought Gregor into your life?"

His question hung in the air, and I hesitated. Talking about Gregor felt like opening a can of worms that I wasn't ready to sort through just yet, but Maxim waited patiently, his gaze not pressing but expectant.

A part of me wanted to please him.

Honestly, it felt weird.

"He was… a means to an end," I said finally, my voice low. "I used him to get here to America." My fingers twisted in my lap under the table, betraying my nervousness about revealing too much.

For some reason, it mattered to me what he thought.

"A means to an end?" Maxim echoed softly, urging me to continue.

I sighed, a long, weary sound. "I grew up bouncing around orphanages and foster homes in Ireland," I began. "No one really cared what happened to me. I was just another kid in the system."

Maxim's expression softened, his eyes conveying a depth of understanding that surprised me. He didn't interrupt, just gently motioned for me to go on.

"I wanted out. I wanted a fresh start, a new life somewhere far from where my parents died. Gregor… he promised he could get me to America. I didn't know much about him, only that he had the means and the willingness to help me leave."

"And you had no idea about his… affiliations?" Maxim's voice was carefully neutral.

I shook my head. "I just saw an opportunity and I took it." I paused, looking up to meet his gaze squarely. "I guess I didn't think about the consequences, not really, not until it was too late."

Maxim nodded slowly. "I understand," he said finally, not as an accusation, but as a simple statement of fact. "You did what you had to do."

I don't know what I expected, maybe for him to be angry? Maybe for him to turn his back on me like everyone else?

Like a cooling balm, his understanding washed over me, easing some of the tightness in my chest. I took a deep breath and chanced an uneasy smile in his direction.

He smiled back, and I swear my heart did a little flip in my chest.

Dammit, Riley. Get a grip.

Trying to cover up my blunder, I dug back into the plate of food. We ate in silence for a while, but it was a comfortable silence.

By the time we finished, I was stuffed, but satisfied. When I finally put down my fork, I glanced back at him to find him watching me.

"Better?" he asked.

I nodded, a smile spreading across my face. "Better."

"Good," he said, returning the smile.

As if on cue, his phone rang. Quietly, he excused himself, answered the call, and stepped out of the room.