Amanda's Dominant Daddy Page 10

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen it but I can get in. I’ll check it out and let you know.”

  “Great, thanks. Do you want cream and sugar?”

  “Yes, please. I’ll go and get my bag. We can work on the kitchen table if that’s okay with you.”

  “Sure is,” he replied.

  As he fetched the half-and-half and the sugar bowl and placed them on the table, he felt charged up. Change was surrounding him. In a short space of time he’d pulled the trigger on One Autumn Day, had met a truly unique and amazing woman, and now he was selling his house. Sitting down at the table, he was surprised at how calm he felt. It was as if everything happening at once had been preordained, that he was almost a passenger on the train of his life.

  “You look a bit shell-shocked,” Candy remarked as she sat down opposite him.

  “No, just the opposite,” he smiled. “Selling this house and moving is a big deal, but I have two other things going on that are just as important, and I was thinking how shockingly relaxed I am about it all.”

  “I’m impressed,” she said, opening up a manila folder. “Most people would be totally stressed.”

  “I feel as if I should be but I’m not.”

  “Count your blessings,” she said, staring across at him, “and enjoy it while it lasts.”

  “Good advice,” he grinned. “Okay, go ahead and explain all this to me. It’s been a while since I’ve done a real estate deal.”

  As Candy began to explain the contract, he listened attentively, and when Amanda’s image threatened to push through he’d take a drink of his coffee and ask a question to get his focus back. He couldn’t remember a time when a woman had danced in his thoughts to such a degree, and when the document was finally signed and he was showing Candy out the door, he knew his feelings for Amanda ran deeper than just a physical attraction.

  He returned to his office and picked up a pad of paper and a pen and the key to the dungeon door. It was time to make a list of the items he’d sell and make arrangements to store the rest. As he opened it up and started down the stairs, he felt a wave of nostalgia. He’d spent so many decadent, erotic, surprising hours there, and he wanted to share it with Amanda before it was dismantled.

  “Maybe I should have her come here tomorrow night,” he murmured. “Maybe getting her out of her house and into a totally new environment would help make the whole age-play scene work.”

  Deciding to think about the idea before suggesting it to her, he set about making his inventory. The choices were obvious and the process didn’t take as long as he’d thought, but he did find himself reliving some special memories, and he discovered some boxes of toys he’d forgotten he had. Finally moving back to his office, he powered up his desktop computer to search out a storage facility, but when he saw an email from CAnderson he felt his pulse tick up, and abandoning his hunt, opened the email and began to read.

  Chapter Eleven

  Amanda was driving home when her cellphone rang. Since sending the revealing email she’d been a nervous wreck, and when she saw Braxton’s name on the phone’s glossy glass screen, she took a deep breath, told herself she’d done the right thing, and accepted the call.

  “Thank you,” were his first words.

  “Thank you? For what?”

  “For telling me so much in your mail.”

  “Did I? I just told you what happened.”

  “We both know it was a big thing, and we both know it took a lot of courage to share it with me. Thank you.”

  “I, uh, I’m not sure what to say,” she stammered.

  “You don’t have to say anything. Where are you?”

  “On my way home.”

  “And how are you feeling?”

  “Good, great, kind of nervous though. I’ve never told anyone that story. I still can’t believe I told you. It’s kind of weird.”

  “I hope you don’t regret it.”

  “No, no, not at all. I’ll be really embarrassed when I see you again though. I was told I was a brat growing up. I think it all started because of that incident.”

  “Probably,” he agreed, “and you know you can still be a brat now. Right?”

  “I guess,” she said softly. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure. Any news on your car?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed as she turned down her street. “I finally got word just before I left the office. It’s a total write-off. I’ll be getting a new one.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know. It’s still sinking in. I’ll be returning the loaner to the dealer tomorrow, then the insurance company will be taking over.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help you through this quagmire?”

  “No, I don’t think so. The insurance companies will have to deal with each other, and if they don’t cough up what I think they should, I’ll bring in my lawyer. He’s a Rottweiler crossed with a steamroller.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Things like this don’t faze me much. It’s just paperwork and some yelling. I do it every hour of every day.”

  “I suppose you do,” he remarked. “At least you’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “What about you?” she asked, wondering what he’d been up to. “How was your day?”

  “Busy. I’ve listed my house.”

  “That was fast.”

  “So fast, but it feels good. And speaking of my house, I’d like you to come here tomorrow night and stay over.”

  “I’d love to,” she said happily. “That would be so much fun.”

  “You have no idea,” he quipped.

  “Ooh, you’ve just made my stomach do that flippy thing again. I won’t get any sleep now.”

  “Of course you will. You must be exhausted. Did you change your locks?”

  “I certainly did, and I had a combination lock put on the gate. I can give my gardeners the code and it’s easy to change, like my alarm.”

  “I’m very pleased to hear it. I’ll be home all night. I’m going to start sorting through my things so I’ll be around if you need me, and I don’t want you to be shy about that. You can call me any time, even if it’s just to say hello.”

  “Thank you, Braxton. That’s a very comforting thing.”

  “And I want you to have a decent dinner and an early night. You need it, you hear me, little girl?”

  “Oh, uh, yes,” she said haltingly, trying to calm the butterflies that had instantly burst to life from his words.

  “If you don’t do as I say, what will happen?” he asked, his voice soft but firm.

  “I’ll get spanked,” she replied breathlessly.

  “Yes, you will. You’ll be put over daddy’s knee and have your bare bottom smacked, maybe with a hairbrush.”

  “Ooh…”

  “When you’re in bed and about to turn out the light, you’re to call me on my home line. Have you logged that number in your phone?”

  “Yes, it’s there.”

  “I want to know what time my little girl is going to sleep, but call me on that line. I might turn my cellphone off at some point.”

  “Yes, your landline, yes, I will,” she promised.

  “Yes, you will…?”

  “Yes, I will… daddy.”

  Her voice was barely a whisper and he smiled. She was already in that special place. She was nervous and scared, but she was surrendering to that part of her that needed his loving control and discipline.

  “That’s my good girl. I’ll speak to you later.”

  “Okay. Bye, daddy.”

  “Bye, little girl.”

  Ending the call, Amanda was grateful she was turning into her driveway. Her stomach was churning, her heart was racing, and she felt almost giddy. Braxton was a dominant, she’d expected that going in, but this was a whole other realm. Being his little girl? Calling him daddy? Just the idea was taking her breath away. What would it be like when she was actually playing it out? She didn’t know, but she was fairly sure about one thing, and sh
e felt a warm thrill ripple down her spine as she thought about it. Her email. She’d relayed something that had happened when she was very young, and she had no doubt Braxton would tackle it with her when they were together.

  She’d been walking with her father down the main street of the small town in which she grew up. He was holding her hand, and as they had passed the toy shop she’d spied a doll sitting in the window. It was the most beautiful doll she’d ever seen, with purple hair and a white dress, and she’d tugged on her father’s sleeve and started jumping up and down.

  “Daddy, daddy, look. I want her. Please? I have to have her.”

  He’d paused his step and stared in the window.

  “You have an entire room full of dolls,” he’d said casually. “I don’t think you need anymore.”

  “Not like her. I don’t have one like her.”

  He had gripped her hand, a signal that he was about to start walking again, so she’d yanked her little fingers from his grasp, and hurling herself on the sidewalk, she had screamed and screamed and screamed, demanding that he buy her the doll.

  The memory was vivid, and though she’d pulled into her garage, she was still sitting in her car, recalling the moment as though it was yesterday. Typing the email had almost paralyzed her, and she’d had to take several deep breaths before she could leave her office and walk down the hall to the conference room. Now the same thing was happening again.

  Closing her eyes, she could almost feel her father lifting her off the pavement and hurrying into the store to get her the precious doll. Clinging to it on the way home, she’d been filled with waves of conflicting emotions. Thrilled to have the wonderful new purple-haired friend, but also feeling a strange sadness. How could she have beaten her daddy? But she had. As the years floated by, to her amazement she found similar outbursts would almost always result in her getting what she wanted, and even if things didn’t work out exactly as she’d planned, she still had the satisfaction of seeing the look of fear and worry in her opponent’s eyes.

  But that first time, the time she’d won her purple-haired doll, had stuck in her memory like a dull ache in her gut, and it had never left her.

  Climbing out and walking into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of wine and opened the refrigerator door. Staring at the contents, she felt too tired to fix anything, and decided to have some cheese and crackers, watch some television, then take a shower. Once revived, she’d take another stab at making herself something to eat.

  It was a good plan, but it didn’t quite work out that way.

  Having only had a sandwich at lunch while she’d read One Autumn Day, the wine quickly found its way to her head, and wolfing down the cheese and crackers stifled her appetite. She’d taken the shower, but still buzzed from the alcohol she’d stretched out on her bed and promptly fell asleep. Waking up with a dry mouth and the beginning of a headache, she glanced at the clock and was shocked to see was almost ten-thirty.

  “Shit,” she grunted, and reaching across to her nightstand, she picked up her phone and called Braxton.

  “Hello, young lady. I thought I would have heard from you before now.”

  “Yes, sorry.”

  “What’s going on? You don’t sound right.”

  “You won’t be happy,” she said softly.

  “Perhaps it’s you who won’t be happy. Tell me.”

  “I had a glass of wine when I came in, and some crackers, and it kind of knocked me out. I just woke up.”

  “So, no dinner then?”

  “Not exactly,” she mumbled.

  “Looks like my little girl will have some discipline coming tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, daddy.”

  “Go and brush your teeth, put on your nightie and go straight to bed, but you’d better have a decent breakfast in the morning, or you’ll have a very sore bottom indeed.”

  “Yes, daddy.”

  “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  “Goodnight, daddy.”

  Placing the phone back on her nightstand, Amanda curled up into a ball. Braxton was making her feel like a little girl, a very naughty little girl, but he’d called her sweetheart, and she felt warm and fuzzy all over. It was all so amazing and unexpected.

  “I’m living a fairytale,” she muttered. “A fantasy fairytale, and I’m totally caught up. Please, dear God, please let it have a happy ending.”

  * * *

  Braxton carried yet another trash bag into his garage. It was his sixth. They were filled with clothes he no longer wanted, and items he’d found tucked away in the back of his closet. He couldn’t believe how much he’d collected in the years he’d lived there, and clearing things out felt great. Wandering back into his living room, thinking about the call he’d just received from Amanda, he wondered if she had been testing him yet again. His instructions had been perfectly clear and she’d ignored them, but she’d been in control for so long perhaps she simply had to push back.

  Not wanting to be disturbed as he’d delved into the mysterious dark recesses of his closet, he’d turned off his cellphone and left it on his coffee table. Reaching down, he picked it up to check his messages and discovered he had half a dozen, but the only one he wanted to listen to was the one from Peter Steinberg. Sitting down on his couch, he touched the screen and began to listen.

  “Hey, Braxton, two great meetings today. I think both companies are interested, but you know how these people hold their cards close to their vest. Jim is terrific by the way. He mesmerizes people. He walks in like Clark Kent then turns into Superman. Three more appointments tomorrow, and we should know where we are by next week. Talk at you later.”

  Rising to his feet, Braxton walked across to his floor-to-ceiling windows. Staring out at the twinkling city, he decided that allowing Peter to take the meetings without him had been the right move, and a moment later he was suddenly cloaked in the sure knowledge that the film would be produced by a major company and he would be the star. It shook him, and running his fingers through his hair, the line from The Way We Were once again echoed in his head.

  In a way he was like the country he lived in, everything came too easily to him, but at least he knew it.

  “I do,” he mumbled, “and I’m grateful, but why does this keep repeating itself?”

  Not knowing the answer, and feeling troubled that he didn’t, he pushed the question from his head and imagined instead what it would be like to gaze out at the ocean, rather than the city stars upon which he was now staring. The infinite horizon and constantly changing pattern of the blue Pacific was immensely appealing, and he decided it was a must for his next house. Then out of nowhere he suddenly felt drained. As he yawned and ambled toward his bedroom, it occurred to him he had every reason to be tired. Amanda wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept much the night before.

  Taking a quick shower to wash away the dust and dirt from his big clean-out, he decided he would start his evening with Amanda by bathing her, and while he was washing her back they would talk about how she’d been such a bad girl, demanding that her father buy her the doll with the purple hair. Things would fall into place from there, and she would finally have the relief for which she’d been waiting for so many years.

  As the thought flitted through his head, he felt something. It was a twinge of knowledge that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It meant he knew something he couldn’t yet see. It would reveal itself in time, but like an itch in the middle of his back that he couldn’t reach, it would bug him until he did. Toweling off, he went to his bed and slipped between the sheets. The fatigue washed over him like the shower just had, and within a short few minutes all thought had left him and he was deeply asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Amanda kept her promise. The following morning she scrambled some eggs and heated some tomatoes in her microwave, then placed the hot breakfast on freshly buttered whole grain toast. She was ravenous, and as she took the last mouthful and downed it with her cup of tea she was grateful that Brax
ton had insisted on it. Just the thought of him made her all quivery, but it also filled her with energy, and she drove to the office with a smile on her face. Though the day was as busy as usual, it seemed to drag, but she knew it was because she was so excited about the evening ahead. When he called late in the afternoon, she grabbed her phone and hit accept the moment she saw his name.

  “Good afternoon, Amanda. Do you still want to venture over here and descend into my wicked playroom?”

  “Absolutely,” she said enthusiastically. “I have my bag in my car so I don’t have to go home first.”

  “When do you usually leave the office?” he asked, delighted by her unabashed enthusiasm.

  “Around five-thirty. It just depends.”

  “That sounds fine. Just call me when you’re on your way. I’ll text you my address.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Did you have a good breakfast?”

  His voice had suddenly changed, and had taken on his caring, authoritative tone.

  “I did,” she softly replied, feeling the now-familiar belly flip.

  “Good girl. What about lunch?”

  “I had a business lunch, so no problem there.”

  “Productive, I hope.”

  “It was, except the director I met was not-so-subtly trying to come on to me.”

  “I’m sure you put him in his place.”

  “No problem there either,” she laughed.

  “I’ll be seeing you soon. Drive carefully.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  “Bye, sweetheart.”

  Ending the call, she let out a breath. Sweetheart. Braxton was the only man who had ever called her sweetheart.

  “I feel like he just dusted me with rainbow sprinkles,” she mumbled. “Did I just say that? Good grief.”

  “Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness,” Jeremy declared, approaching her desk. “You know that, right?”

  Darting up her eyes, she glowered at him.

  “I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “I didn’t sneak up. You were a zillion miles away. What’s his name?”