But Scarlett was a daddy’s girl through and through.
Don’t get me wrong—she loved her mommy, but Daddy was the hero in her book. She was wrapped around his little finger, and he was wrapped equally as tight around hers. So was my father, Mack. I couldn’t even begin to tell you about the jealousy that raged between those two over her attentions. Mack was her Pappy and threatened to sue for grandparent visitation rights one weekend when Noah had “thoughtlessly” planned to take Scarlett to the same toy store that he wanted to take her to without first checking with him to see if he ever had any intentions of doing so.
Confusing? Yeah, I thought so, too.
It was ridiculous how they fought over the child. Always trying to one-up each other in the gifts they bestowed upon her or places they took her. I was pretty sure Mack would even have taken out a second mortgage on my childhood home in an attempt to keep up with Noah’s abundant wealth.
Eventually the rest of our family and I had decided an intervention was in order. That had been a week ago. I mean, seriously, Scarlett had enough love in her tiny, fist-sized heart to go around, and it wasn’t fair for them to constantly put her in the middle. Auntie Dez, Gammy, Aunt Polly, and I had left with her for the week to go visit Aunt Lexi and Uncle Brad in New York, leaving Daddy and Pappy to stew at home by themselves. They’d needed the time-out.
The week we’d spent in New York was fun, but I’d missed my husband. And, okay, I’d missed his many assets as well. I wasn’t talking about his ridiculous fortune, either. Loaded down with yet more goodies for Scarlett and a new wardrobe for myself—Polly, Dez, and Lexi; need I say more?—we headed home.
By the time we returned, Noah and my father had bonded through their mutual misery over Scarlett’s absence. As for me, what was I? Chopped liver?
But my pique lasted just a few moments. After a brief greeting and many repetitions of Daddy missed you so much, Mack swiped Scarlett from my arms and ushered my mother out the door. She was theirs for the weekend.
And I was Noah’s.
No sooner had the door closed than I found my back pinned against it and a very eager husband pressed against the length of my body with his hands flattened out next to my head. His face was only inches from mine and I could feel the warmth of his breath as it fanned out over my face. Slowly his lips came closer to mine.
“Don’t ever fucking do that to me again,” he said, and then his lips were on mine, fierce and demanding.
He wasn’t angry, not in the least bit. Just really, really horny and desperate for some release.
Um, yeah. Me too.
“I missed you so fucking much,” he mumbled into my skin as he directed his attention to my neck.
The Cooch agreed. She’d missed him as well. In fact, I distinctly heard the sounds of some sort of bonchickawahwah music playing in the recesses of my mind. She was blowing the dust off her knee-high red leather boots and blue unitard, stopping momentarily to contemplate Noah’s black tie and those black wraparound heels we knew he was particularly fond of.
As if it mattered in the least.
His hand was under my skirt, cupping my already drenched center. His fingers stroked and probed as only those of a skilled King of Fingerfuck could. The other hand was kneading my breast, rolling the hardened nipple between his thumb and finger. And that colossal cock was grinding against my hip.
The Cooch gave him a finger curl and a sultry whisper: Hey there, big boy. Why don’t you come on over here and we can talk about the first thing that pops up?
Double Agent Coochie was most definitely a hoochie.
As for me, on the other hand, I decided to play hard to get. During my pregnancy with Scarlett, our sex life had become somewhat vanilla. All because Noah was worried he’d hurt the baby or me somehow.
Anyway, once she was born, it just sort of remained that way out of habit, only there was less of it. Sure, we had stolen quickies and rushed releases in the shower, and none of which was any less mind-blowing, but that raging inferno of lust that we had shared at the beginning of our relationship had dimmed to a slow burn. I wasn’t complaining, but I missed the tit for tat, the challenge, the part where one of us said, Let me get you real good and pissed off and then fuck the shit out of you so that you remember who owns you.
And I was going to get it back.
With as much conviction as I could muster, I shoved him in the chest, pushing him away. He looked up at me, confused and a little wounded. But I gave him a wink and what I hoped was a sexy smirk to clue him in on my game.
“Screw you, Noah! Do you know what tomorrow is?” I snapped.
Again with that confounded look.
“I can see you don’t, ass!” I said, lifting my chin indignantly as I stalked toward him. “It just so happens to be the two-year anniversary of the day we met. The day you bought me for two million dollars to be your sex slave so you could do whatever you wanted to me, however and wherever you wanted to do it, because you’re a sick bastard who gets off on dominating me for your own pleasure. You’ve loved forcing me to bow to your will, lording me into submission just because you had enough money to do it.”
I stood nose to nose with him—so to speak, since he was taller than me and all. My girls were pressed against his hard chest and the heat rolled off him in waves.
“Lanie, I—” he started, but I cut him off.
“My name is Delaine! You don’t get to call me Lanie!” I snapped.
And there it was, the lightbulb. I could see that he had gotten it at last, and judging by the arrogant smirk that spread across his face, he was game to play.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back while cupping my ass and pulling me against him roughly.
“Well, if our little contract expires tomorrow, I guess I’d better make the most of my last night of ownership,” he said. My nipples strained against my shirt at the reemergence of Noah the sex god. “I must warn you, this won’t be nice. It’ll be hard and rough, but you will love every minute of it. And you will do as I say because I own every inch of your body. Your fuckable mouth, your tight little pussy, your forbidden ass—they all belong to me, and I will fuck them how I see fit, if I see fit to do so. You are here for my pleasure, just as I am here for yours. Have I made myself clear?”
“Quite,” I snarled back at him. “Let go of me! I hate you.”
“Yes, but you love the way I fuck, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question. More like a statement of fact.
He released the hold he had on my hair and took a step back. “On your knees, Delaine.” He tugged on his belt buckle. “I’ve had a very trying day and I’m in need of the stress management that I know you give all too well.”