The Daddy and the Dom Read online

  He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close to his body heat as we walked out onto the grounds. A long, paved driveway cut through an expansive lawn, the asphalt disappearing into a line of trees. I started to walk down it, but Joseph steered me closer to the house.

  “There’s nothing that way,” he told me. “The gate is just a few minutes’ drive through the tree line. It’s guarded twenty-four/seven, so no one is allowed in without Marco’s permission. There’s an electric fence around the entire estate, and the guards will be alerted if anyone tries to breach it.”

  The information was baffling, totally at odds with the world I knew. This wasn’t just a house; it was a fortress. Hearing about the security made me more aware of the dangerous life Joseph led, but it also made me breathe a little easier. No one could get to me here.

  We walked around the house—which took a considerable amount of time, due to its sprawling expanse. Marco might as well live in a castle, complete with elaborate gardens. I spotted a large garage to the side of the house. One of the multiple doors was open, and I noted a couple of motorcycles and a red sports car. I didn’t know much about cars, but I could tell it was expensive, just like everything else on this estate.

  Apparently, crime paid.

  When we reached the back of the mansion, excitement buzzed through me. Through the windows that enclosed the conservatory, I could see a covered indoor pool.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “Can I go swimming while I’m here?”

  “You like to swim?”

  I supposed I had neglected my morning laps during my time with Joseph in Cambridge. I’d been too attached to him to take time to go to the pool.

  “Yeah. I was on the swim team in high school. I usually swim laps every day.” Not only was it good exercise, but it helped me clear my head and relax, centering me at the beginning of my day.

  “I’ll talk to Marco about getting the pool serviced, then. It’s been drained and covered for as long as I can remember.”

  “Really? Why?”

  I couldn’t imagine having the luxury of an indoor pool in my own home but not using it.

  Joseph’s expression went smooth. “You’d have to ask Marco.”

  Another mystery only Marco could answer. Again, I decided I didn’t care much, as long as I had access to the pool.

  “Will you buy me some swimsuits?” I asked, fully confident that Joseph would follow through on his promise.

  He shot me a wicked smile. “I didn’t buy you underwear. Do you really think I’m going to buy you swimsuits?”

  I let out a huff of disbelief. It was one thing to walk around with my nipples poking through my shirt. It was another to be completely naked in Marco’s house.

  “Marco might see me,” I reminded him.

  “You seem very concerned about that.”

  My cheeks flamed. “Of course I am. I don’t like him.”

  Joseph’s smile melted. “I know he intimidated you. And I know it must have been scary when he abducted you. But he would never hurt you, I promise.”

  I wasn’t sure I could fully believe it. “That doesn’t mean I’m okay with him seeing me naked.” I countered. The fact that Joseph didn’t share this viewpoint was bizarre. I understood that—despite having completely different personalities—Marco and Joseph were best friends. What I didn’t understand was why Joseph didn’t seem as possessive of me around him as he had been back in Cambridge. Had his protective behavior back then been a carefully crafted lie to make me trust him?

  Joseph’s eyes searched my face, reading my displeasure.

  “Okay, angel,” he allowed, his tone contrite. “I’ll get you swimsuits. I don’t want you to be unhappy here.”

  I breathed a small sigh of relief. If he’d refused, there would have been nothing I could do about it. It sank it that I was completely reliant on him for everything as long as I was trapped here.

  I’m not trapped. He’s keeping me here because it’s the safest place for me.

  Despite my rationalization, my unease lingered until Joseph swept me up in a mind-numbing kiss. I fell into his arms, forgetting all my worries.

  Chapter Nine

  Ashlyn

  I surveyed Marco’s bedroom when I stepped out of the bathroom, my hair damp from the shower I’d just taken. The room was a mess, Marco’s belongings still strewn about from my frantic search for a tablet the night before.

  I expect this mess to be cleaned up by this time tomorrow. His stern words echoed in my head. I still internally balked at being ordered around like an unruly child, but I didn’t dare test Marco. If he told me to clean up the room, I’d clean it up. Besides, I had been the one to make the mess, and it was his room I’d torn apart.

  I wondered why he was even letting me stay in his bedroom, but I decided it didn’t matter. Maybe he liked one of the other bedrooms in the house better. It wasn’t really any of my concern.

  What I was concerned with was getting the room tidy before meeting Joseph downstairs for dinner. After spending the afternoon cuddling on the couch and binge watching Stranger Things, he’d told me he needed to take a phone call from his father. I’d decided to take a shower while he talked to his dad, and I hoped Marco wasn’t around when I did go down to meet Joseph for dinner. I really didn’t like being near him, so I hoped he ate his dinner and left before I arrived in the kitchen.

  But first, I had to clean up the mess I’d made. Before I’d tossed Marco’s things around the room, it had been neat as a pin, everything organized and in an orderly place. Even his pencils were carefully laid out in a neat row in the top drawer, each one sharpened to a perfect point. Why one person needed so many pencils, I didn’t understand.

  It didn’t matter why he had them; all that mattered was that I put them back into their orderly little row. I’d also thrown several books around—mostly biographies. I put them back on the bookshelf where they belonged, even placing them in alphabetical order by author when I realized the pattern of the books that remained on the shelf. I didn’t want Marco to be able to accuse me of doing a bad job at cleaning up. I didn’t want him to have any reason to get all intimidating and in my space again.

  When the books were back in order, I returned to the desk. I put some notepads back in place on the polished wood surface before moving to shut the drawers I’d nearly yanked out of the desk altogether in my desperation.

  My eyes caught on a large, leather-bound book that had been hidden in one of the drawers. It was soft to the touch, the forest green leather worn from extensive handling. There weren’t any markings on the cover, and it seemed too large to be one of Marco’s numerous non-fiction titles that he stored on the bookshelf.

  Curiosity urged me to pick up the book and flip it open.

  My heart stuttered.

  The leather cover didn’t conceal an obscure biography or novel. This was a sketchbook. And the first sketch was… unsettling.

  Perverted.

  Dirty.

  Wrong.

  The lead pencil strokes were light, as soft and elegant as the woman portrayed in the drawing. As a work of art, it was breathtaking. But what really stole my breath was the subject of the drawing. The woman was naked, her back arched and her lips parted on a silent cry. Her expression was one of ecstasy, her eyes closed and the lines of her face drawn with erotic tension. Her breasts were thrust out, her nipples peaked.

  But her nudity was the least disturbing part of the drawing. Twisted strands of rope were wrapped around her body, framing her breasts and putting them on lewd display. Her arms were drawn tight behind her, forcing her back to arch toward the artist. She was on her knees, her thighs spread wide to reveal her bare sex.

  After several long minutes, I turned the page, trying to replace the image that was burned into my mind. My breath caught. There was another bound woman. She was different—her hair darker, her nose slightly smaller with a gentle slope. Both women were beautiful, but unique. I flipped the page again. Another woman, her body twisted by the rope that bound her. Her mouth was open on a silent scream, and I was unsure if it was one of pleasure or pain.

  Transfixed by morbid curiosity, I continued to flip through the book, finding sketch after lewd sketch. I tried to appreciate the artist’s skill, but all I could focus on were the women, their faces contorted in various states of erotic expression. Some were serenely blissful, others shouting out. I couldn’t tell if those women were screaming for more or for mercy, and that unsettled me more than anything.

  I was about a third of the way through the book when I gasped. This woman wasn’t bound. She wasn’t naked. It was a close-up portrait of her face. Her dark hair contrasted with her pale skin. Her irises were nearly black, almost swallowed by her dilated pupils. Her eyes were so wide that her long lashes brushed her brows, and her full lips were parted on a gasp that mirrored my own.

  It wasn’t just the look of shock, the hint of fear in her eyes, that resembled my current state. I was looking at myself.

  “That’s you, on the night I met you.”

  I yelped and nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Marco’s deep voice. His massive body filled the open doorway, and his black eyes studied me with keen interest.

  “I went to that dive bar at Harvard, looking for Joseph so I could bring him home,” he continued. “I found you there. My people who’d tracked him down told me he had a girlfriend. I knew if I confronted you, Joseph would come straight for me.”

  He stepped into the room, but I couldn’t move away. I was frozen, locked in place by his dark stare. My breathing came fast and shallow as he approached. He didn’t stop until mere inches separated our bodies. Just like on the night we’d met, he leaned over me, his powerful aura bearing down on me. My heart hammered in my chest, signaling that I should flee.

  But I couldn’t move. My feet were rooted to the floor, and my fingers were going numb around the leather binding of the sketchpad.

  Marco’s sketchpad. His drawings. His darkness, put down on paper in lurid detail.

  One corner of his lips twitched. “You were so pretty, with your big blue eyes all wide. Like a frightened doe. I understood why Joseph had become obsessed with you.” He gestured at the book. “Turn the page, curious little girl. You know you want to.”

  “I don’t,” I squeaked. “I didn’t mean to pry. I—”

  “Turn. The. Page.”

  My fingers flicked to the next page before I could think of protesting. His darkness pulsed around me, lighting up my body with awareness of his nearness.

  “Look,” he commanded.

  “I don’t want to,” I whispered. “I don’t want to see any more. I’m sorry I—”

  “Look.” The word cracked through the air like a whip, and my eyes flicked down to the page.

  My entire body flushed, and my heart fluttered in my chest. My stomach did a funny flip, and my mouth went dry.

  It was another drawing of me. But this time, I was naked. Bound with rope.

  And Joseph was standing behind me, holding the coil as he wrapped it around my body.

  “What…” I gasped for air. “What is this?”

  “It’s you and Joseph, obviously.”

  My heart leapt into my throat, and I tried to swallow it down so I could speak. “He wouldn’t… He’d never…”

  Marco made a soft humming noise, considering. “So, he hasn’t tied up his pretty little princess? Does he not want to pervert his perfect angel?”

  Angel. Joseph’s sweet name for me was heavy with mockery.

  “This is… You’re…” I couldn’t find the words to express my feelings. They were jumbled, my emotions roiling. I was too hot; I was practically panting. Marco was far too close, his body heat stifling.

  “There’s that pretty blush,” he observed, his voice thick with pleasure I’d never heard from him. “You are innocent, aren’t you?”

  I wasn’t blushing. I was burning up. I had to get away from Marco before the inferno engulfed me.

  The sketchbook slipped from my hands, and I darted past Marco, sucking in a deep breath as I rushed through the bedroom door. His low, dark chuckle followed me out into the hall and down the stairs.

  When I burst into the kitchen, I flung my arms around Joseph, looking to him for the protection he’d promised. He cradled me against his strong body, holding me with care.

  “What’s wrong, angel?”

  “Marco. He…” I took a deep breath. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Joseph about what I’d seen. It was too lewd, too embarrassing. The image of Joseph looming behind me holding the coil of rope burned in my mind. “You’d never… hurt me, right?”

  “Of course not.” He curled two fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face to his. “Did Marco say something that scared you again?”

  I bit my lip. I’d been the one to pry into his privacy and look at his sketches. Marco had every right to be angry at me for that.

  But he hadn’t been angry. He’d been… I wasn’t sure how to describe the thick atmosphere that had built around us as he loomed over me, commanding me to look at the perverted depiction of me with Joseph. Why would he draw something like that?

  I didn’t answer Joseph’s question directly. I simply hugged him tighter.

  “I don’t like him,” I whispered.

  “Marco won’t hurt you,” he promised. “And I won’t, either. I’d never hurt you, Ashlyn. All I want is for you to be safe and happy.”

  I nodded against his chest, knowing he fully believed what he was saying about his dangerous friend. I wasn’t at all certain that I was safe around Marco. He made my belly quiver and my pulse race.

  “Stay with me?” I pleaded, not wanting to leave Joseph’s side with Marco in the house.

  “I’m right here,” he reassured me, stroking his hand up and down my back. “I’ve got you.”

  With that promise, I finally relaxed into his strong arms, knowing deep in my soul that he would protect me.

  Chapter Ten

  Joseph

  “If you’re down here, I’m guessing she’s still asleep,” Marco said as I joined him in the kitchen for breakfast. “You can’t even leave her for five seconds while she’s conscious. You two are kind of nauseating in real life.”

  “What do you mean in real life?”

  He shrugged. “When I sent people to find you, they took pictures of you together. You looked happy. Then, once you came back home, I saw how you were without her. You were completely fucked up. I thought bringing her here would make you happy again.”

  “I am happy,” I said, not really understanding where he was going with this.

  He turned the stove off and faced me, abandoning his bacon. His eyes were intent on me, his mouth drawn and serious.

  “You’re not being yourself with her. You’re holding back.”

  My brows rose. “And how would you know anything about that? Is this about what you said to her last night? I know you scared her again. She was practically shaking when she came downstairs for dinner. You have to stop fucking doing that. Ashlyn isn’t from our world. She’s innocent and gentle, and—”

  “She’s definitely innocent,” he cut me off. “That’s why you’re so obsessed with her. You want her innocence.”

  “That’s part of it,” I admitted. “I like that she’s not part of our world.”

  “That’s not what I mean. You want to take that innocence. You want to corrupt her.”

  My fists curled at my sides. “I don’t.”

  “Don’t lie, Joseph. I know you better than anyone. You like that she’s so sweet and pure, but you want her to be your dirty little angel, just for you.”

  “Fuck off.” I couldn’t hear any more. I couldn’t bear to hear the awful truth I’d been trying to deny. I wanted to shelter Ashlyn from all the ugly things in my life. I wasn’t ashamed of my kinks, but I knew she would be frightened by them. I wouldn’t do that to her.

  “She saw my sketches,” he announced, keeping me fixed in his implacable stare.

  Anger surged. “You showed those to her?” Marco’s sketches were supposed to be private, something only the two of us knew about.

  “No. I found her snooping. She was staring at them, Joseph. She didn’t know I was watching her. Those pretty pink lips were parted, her eyes wide. I could practically see her pulse jumping at her throat.”

  “Because she was scared. You scared her.” If Marco was trying to allay my anger, he was only riling it.

  “Maybe she was scared. Just a little. Just the right amount. You should have seen her, Joseph. She couldn’t stop staring. And when I showed her the one of the two of you together, she licked her lips and blushed the prettiest shade of pink. I don’t think she even realized it. She wants it, Joseph.”

  “She doesn’t,” I countered, even though something tugged in my chest. “She ran down here after. She was holding me so tight, and she was trembling.”

  “I like seeing a woman tremble,” he said, his eyes sparking with a rare hint of light. I wasn’t the only one who found Ashlyn’s innocence alluring.

  “She doesn’t like you,” I informed him, the words paining me. I hated that she seemed to dislike my best friend so much that she’d seek shelter from him in my arms. “You can’t keep scaring her like this.”

  “She wasn’t scared. Not of the drawings and not of me. She was scared of how they made her feel. Stop pretending to be someone you’re not, Joseph. If you really are meant to be together, she’ll accept you as you are. She’ll welcome it.”

  “You don’t know her like I do. You didn’t know her in Cambridge. She’s led a charmed life, Marco. I was relieved she wasn’t a virgin. I’d thought she might be when I first met her. That’s how innocent she is.”

  “And that’s part of why you want her,” he circled back around to the crux of his argument. “How long do you think you can keep fucking her like this?”

  -->