The toaster dinged and as if he’d planned the timing perfectly, he plated the eggs, a few pieces of bacon, and then the toast seconds after it popped up. He passed over a small jar of peanut butter, jam, and some butter in my direction the moment after he placed the plate in front of me. With a smile, he swiftly salted my eggs and then ground a little pepper on top as well.
“This looks delicious,” I smiled.
“Eat up. You’ve earned a good breakfast for sure,” he said, and I turned away with embarrassment at his implication. I stared down at my plate and picked up the toast, deciding that I wanted peanut butter on it. I reached for it and he grabbed it first, twisting it open and handing it to me. I muttered a quiet word of appreciation as I took it. I scooped some out with my knife and spread it over the rich wheat bread in a flourish. Finally, I took a bite and enjoyed the warm taste of freshly baked and toasted bread.
“So, what exactly are your plans for me?” I asked briskly.
“You’re going to live here with me as my wife,” he answered.
“Yeah. I got that. What does that mean? Am I imprisoned in this house? Am I even allowed outside?” I asked. There was a distinctive bitterness in the tone of my words, and I couldn’t hide that even if I wanted to.
“You’re not my prisoner, Willow, if that’s what you’re asking. It isn’t safe for you to venture far, but it should be for you to go into town if you need anything,” he answered.
“Good. When can we go?” I pressed.
He cocked his head.
“Is there something you need already?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I’ve just never been to Switzerland.”
It was the truth. I’d been to a number of cities within the United States and had even been taken on a few quick trips to Mexico and the Caribbean and even further south with some of my previous marks, as well as some interesting beachy locations for the honeymoon, but I’d never spent much time in mainland Europe, especially not in a place like this.
“I’ll take you into town this weekend,” he offered.
“You will?”
“Sure,” he replied with a grin. “It isn’t a particularly big town, but it’s charming and there’s several really good hometown cooking restaurants as well as a few rather quaint shops.”
I’d definitely never been to anything like that. My marks always seemed to want to impress me with their money and took me to the best of the best.
“I’d like that,” I said. While I wanted to see the town, I also wanted to look for avenues in which I might be able to disappear without a trace.
“Why don’t we go tomorrow?” I added.
“I have to go out of town on business for a few days. I get back on Friday evening. We can go together on Saturday morning,” he answered.
“Oh. Where are you going?” I asked.
“Out of town,” he replied curtly.
My gaze flashed up to his, trying to figure out his sudden evasiveness. He leaned down and placed his elbows on the counter, capturing me with those steel blue eyes of his. I ground my teeth together in a quick moment of frustration before I remembered myself and smiled again.
“Fine. Keep your secrets,” I responded with as much sass as I could muster, and he cocked his head with amusement at my efforts.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he replied with a smirk.
I laughed softly. He was going to play it that way.
“I don’t have any more secrets,” I lied and the look that followed told me that he knew I wasn’t telling the truth. He didn’t even answer me as he turned back to the stove and put his own plate together. I sat there in silence as a wave of uncertainty poured over me. The skin across my backside prickled and I turned back toward my plate, staring at the deliciously cooked eggs in front of me.
Why did I feel guilty about lying to him? I’d done it time and time again with each one of my marks, so why did I feel this way with him?
Was it just because I was worried Daddy would spank me?
No, I think it was more than just that. I took a bite of my eggs, mulling it over in my head.
I was afraid that he’d end up hating me in the end. I feared the second time more than anything else.
I did know why too.
Because I cared for him. I cared far more than I was supposed to.
I speared a bite of eggs with far too much gusto, and he chuckled.
“Enjoying your breakfast?”
“It’s delicious,” I replied.
“Would you like that mimosa, little girl?” he asked.
“I would,” I said.
He cleared his throat.
“I would, Daddy,” I replied.
“Careful, my feisty little girl,” he warned. “You’re making Daddy’s cock hard.”
My sassy retort died on my lips to be replaced by a heated blush. That had legitimately caught me off guard and I couldn’t hide the fact that it turned me on to be scolded so openly in such a dirty manner.
I stared at my plate instead, not wanting him to know how much his words affected me and knowing he probably did anyway. I picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled at the edge, only braving a look toward him when it felt safe enough.
He grinned perceptively and I looked back down almost as quickly. I wanted to disappear and just when I thought I couldn’t take any more of the feeling of his eyes on me, he walked over to the fridge and took out a small pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and a bottle of champagne. I watched him more closely now. He popped the bubbly and slowly poured a flute about two thirds of the way full. He filled the rest with the juice and carefully slid it across the granite to me.
Carefully, I wound
