Page 119 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)
“I do, but Avery has trust issues and she’s not ready to be alone with me to that degree.
” When her head lifted, dark eyes swollen and hazy, he smiled at her.
“Allan knew I was in your section of the kitchen, sweetling. As much as it’s gonna embarrass you, he heard everything.
You were never alone; he had your back.”
Her forehead thunked back against his neck as she moaned.
“Ibuprofen and aloe gel coming right up.” The doc agreed, strolling over to one of the cabinets. “What scale of bruising are we looking at? I have arnica capsules if needed—Evander-approved.”
“Minimal bruising if any. It was a light spanking, Isaac,” Clay told him dryly, pausing when Avery snorted in disagreement, “not a caning.”
“Your sub might not be in agreement there.” Chuckling, Isaac pulled a sleeve of pills from a box in the cabinet and popped three into his palm.
Selecting a bottle of water from the under-counter refrigerator, he returned and set the bottle on the counter, the tablets in Clay’s free hand. “Can I assume you’d like some privacy?”
Clay glanced around. The med clinic wasn’t what he’d had in mind for a quiet space, but it fit the bill. There was also the added advantage of having Isaac as a chaperone to ease Avery’s mind—the trust thing was slightly concerning.
Little Avery was an unknown quantity—was she shy, outgoing, an exhibitionist?
“Would you mind hanging around for a while? Just as a precaution.”
“Of course. Let me find the aloe.” Isaac headed for the far end of the row of cupboards.
“Here, sweetling. Open your mouth.”
She clamped her lips shut.
“Avery, the pills will help. Open up.”
Peeking at him from under the longest, darkest lashes he’d ever seen, she poked the tip of her tongue out and shook her head.
“Are you allergic to ibuprofen?”
“Nope.” She popped the p like it was bubblegum.
“So you’re just being awkward then?”
“Yup.” Another popped p .
Clay refused to grin, even though he was thrilled she’d finally given up fighting herself.
She was a playful brat, and if the light beginning to gleam in her eyes was any indication, playful could turn to mischievous in a heartbeat.
“Do you know how this Daddy makes sure his little girl gets her medication when she refuses to take it?”
Belligerence flashed in the dark brown gaze. “No.”
Now he grinned, wolfish and predatory, as he walked over to the exam table and set her down on her feet.
Dropping the ibuprofen in her hand and folding her fingers around the pills, he proceeded to yank down her pants and panties for a second time, stroking his palm over her tender butt.
“I bend her over the nearest flat surface, spread her cheeks wide so I can see her tiny little asshole, and stretch it open with my finger.”
Eyes wide, she lowered her gaze to his big hands and thick, rough fingers.
“When she’s moaning and that ring of muscle isn’t quite as tight anymore, I put the medication in her bottom where she can’t do something silly like spit it out.
Do you know what happens then, Avery? Do you know what happens to that naughty brat when she won’t take her medication like a good, obedient little girl? ”
Avery shook her head slowly, side to side, with her eyes never leaving his. “N-No.”
Bending down so his lips were almost brushing her ear, in the darkest tone he could muster, Clay crooned, “That naughty little girl gets her ass fucked, Avery. She gets her bottom filled with a big, thick, hard cock and fucked until her legs can’t hold her anymore.
When she’s full of her Daddy’s cum, desperate for the orgasm she’s not allowed, in goes the butt plug to hold it all where it belongs, meds and all. ”
He felt the shudder run through her, head to toe, as her knees threatened to buckle.
“Do you want to be that naughty girl, Avery?”
Evidently, part of her did. There was a yearning in her to be that brave, to push the boundaries until she crossed them. She just wasn’t confident enough to go that far yet.
Swallowing hard, she assessed his hands again, then his crotch.
The rebellion in her eyes dimmed as she tossed back the pills in her hand and gulped them down dry.
“That’s a good girl.”
Her tongue made a reappearance, sticking out at him as she blew a raspberry.
Ignoring her even though his lips twitched, Clay studied the exam table. The contraption was ridiculously expensive, more like a gynecological Transformer than a piece of medical equipment. It functioned as both a chair and a table, with the arm and leg rests fully adjustable.
Right now, it was completely flat, which suited his needs just fine.
Grasping her shoulders, Clay turned Avery to face it, letting her shuffle carefully around with her clothes hindering any sudden movements. At least she couldn’t bolt with her pants around her knees. “One last thing before cuddles and chocolate, Avery. Bend over and relax.”
She did the exact opposite, straightening to her full height and squaring her shoulders. “I already had my meds!”
“I’m not going to fuck your ass, sweetling, unless you choose not to do as I ask.”
She hesitated, mulling it over, then heaved a sigh so full of exasperation, only a Little could pull it off. Dramatically, she flopped herself over the table with an adorable grunt.
Silently, Isaac stepped beside him, handing over a tube of gel before retreating to the visitor chairs and taking a seat. His presence didn’t seem to affect Avery in the slightest—either she didn’t mind him being there, or she’d forgotten he was in the room.
Popping the lid off the tube, Clay squeezed a generous dollop of cool gel into his palm. “This will feel cold, Avery, but it’ll help.”
Her squeal was sharp enough to shatter glass. Ignoring it, Clay slathered the gel over every inch of her butt, rubbing it in with a light touch until her struggles faded and she moaned in relief. She relaxed, her breathing slowing. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Submission was a beautiful thing, especially when the sub was inherently strong.
“Anytime, sweetling.”
All that was left was bundling her into his arms, sitting down in a comfy chair, and spoiling her with cuddles and treats. He was a man who believed firmly in the benefits of aftercare and giving it without restraint; not only for the sub’s wellbeing, but his own.
Aftercare was a holy time, in his opinion. A time to reflect and connect, to bond and grow when defenses were down. Whether it took twenty minutes or ninety, it was his happy place.
Now, it was time to show Avery it could be her safe, happy place too.
Tristan
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Grinning, Tristan slammed into Mack’s bear hug, slapping him enthusiastically on the back. “Rest, relaxation, and reconnaissance. Needed some downtime and figured I’d come check this place out, seeing as it stole my best friend from under my nose.”
Mack snorted. “Best thing that ever happened to me. Thanks for that.” He leaned back, assessing Tristan critically. “Rest and relaxation I can understand, Tris; you’re looking a bit ragged around the edges. Your harem not satisfying you?”
Oh, the barb stung right where the asshole aimed it. Knowing Mack was pulling his leg, Tristan brushed it aside. “Sex is the elixir of life, Mack. Not that you’ll benefit from that now you’re a married man, bound by two balls and chains.”
“On the contrary, my friend.” Sheer joy glimmered in Mack’s eyes, telling Tristan he was actually happy with the way his life had played out so far.
“Back to the reconnaissance part—are you considering putting your trust fund to better use than jet-setting around the planet, banging every available piece of strange?”
Unoffended, Tristan shrugged. Mack more than anyone knew how…
promiscuous he’d been since he was old enough to understand what his erection was for; high school had been his playground, then college.
The real world… well, it was just a mega-expansion of that playground, with thousands upon thousands of women to choose from on a daily basis.
Why then was his attention fixated on a single small, curvaceous woman who—if what he’d seen earlier was any indication—was already taken? Not that stealing her away was an issue for him, he’d done it before with women who saw nothing but his money.
The grass was always greener until someone mowed it.
“I’m not scoping out the club to start one of my own, if that’s what you mean.”
“Hmm.” Mack gestured to the clubhouse. “We can talk about it inside. No point standing out here when we could have a drink. I’ll introduce you to my Liam and Sierra.”
Not just possessive over the wife, Tristan noted, but his husband as well.
His resolve to make Mack see the error of his decision wavered.
Even the mention of his spouses brought radiant happiness to his friend’s face—something he’d never seen written there before; at least, not as strongly as this.
“Sure.” Abandoning his plan to spend an hour napping in his cabin, Tristan spun on his heel and walked with Mack back the way he’d just come. “So married life suits you, huh? Being a club bigshot and a husband is what fulfills you?”
“Not so much a bigshot,” Mack corrected with a laugh. “I mainly assist the security team, adjusting the system and adding to it. When I’m not in the office with Grit, I have the occasional DM shifts, or help guests with scenes if they’re struggling with certain elements.”
“Oh, the high life, then.”