Page 8 of Her Hollywood Master (Master Me #6)

She liked the praise and arched her back for him, clenching her pussy around his cock to make it tighter for him.

“Oh God, I love it when you do that,” he said, his movements growing rougher. “You’re so tight, just like a little girl should be for her Daddy.”

“Oh yesss,” she squealed.

He slammed into her and stayed and she let herself go, the orgasm rippling through her in a series of contractions. Joel wrapped both arms around her chest and lifted her upright, kissing her neck. “Good girl, Marissa. My little Rissa-Roo.”

The endearment sent another orgasm squeezing his cock.

She drank in his affection, in wonderment at how easy it was to please him. His expectations were clearly defined. All she had to do was do whatever he said. Her personality, her life had already been set up that way. She’d just never experienced such a sweet reward.

Joel slipped out of her and disposed of the condom, washing his hands.

He put the robe back around her shoulders, holding it out for her to slip back on.

He wrapped his arms around her waist to tie it in front.

Picking up her hand, he pulled her to the barstools at the breakfast counter, lifting her to sit on one.

She giggled. “I can get up myself.”

“Not when your Daddy wants to do it for you,” he said, arching an eyebrow sternly.

She giggled again, tucking her hair behind one ear and peeking up at him. Adorable.

He set a plate in front of her and she smiled. He’d wrapped turkey in lettuce leaves and rolled them up with mustard and mayo into four little logs. A pickle and sliced tomato stood on the side of the plate.

“Mm,” she said, picking one up and nearly devouring it whole. “This is so good,” she said with her mouth full.

He smiled indulgently and dabbed mustard from the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

She blushed and licked at it, teasing him with the sight of her little pink tongue. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked.

“It’s my job,” he said. “I took you on as my Little. That means I take care of you.”

She looked at him blankly.

“A daddy dom is different from a sadist. We like control, but we also like to care for our submissive.”

She sat up straighter. “So what exactly...what else do you like?”

He picked up one of her turkey rolls and fed her a bite. “I like to spank. A lot,” he admitted.

She blushed. “I got that part.”

“I’m into a total power exchange. I call all the shots. But I also take full responsibility for your pleasure, safety and well-being.”

She chewed slowly. “So is this serious? Or just a game?”

One corner of his mouth tugged upward. “A serious game, I suppose.”

She seemed to accept that. “So I’m your Little?”

He smiled. ‘You’re my Little.”

“Just like that? We go from one lunch date to a total power exchange?”

He shrugged. “You made a deal with the devil.”

She slid off her barstool and stepped between his knees, brushing her breasts against his shirt. “Lucky me,” she breathed.

“You may not think so by the end of the week,” he said, wrapping an arm behind her and squeezing her bottom possessively.

She shivered against him. He chuckled and kissed her hair.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“But it’s only eight o’clock,” she protested.

“Yeah, but you look exhausted, and I have a feeling you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a while.”

“Can I watch TV?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

She rolled her eyes. “May I?”

“No,” he said, taking her elbow and leading her toward his bedroom. He paused in the hallway, considering. He didn’t want to smother her, or make her feel obligated to service him. “Do you want to sleep in your own bed, or with Daddy?”

“With Daddy,” she said immediately.

Her certainty sent a wave of warmth through his chest, inspiring another urge to care for his baby girl. Marissa Sparks just needed some loving attention and structure. The poor girl had been starved for it, as far as he could tell.

“I really don’t think I can sleep,” she complained when they got into his bedroom.

He pulled back the covers and patted the bed. “When I tell you it’s bedtime, I don’t want any arguments or you’ll be going to bed with a sore bottom.”

“I already am going to bed with a sore bottom,” she protested. He put his hands on his belt buckle and started to unhitch it and she shot up on the bed with widened eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Do you need another spanking to help you go to sleep?”

“No, Daddy,” she said, the pout of her lips making his cock twitch for her again.

“Good girl,” he said. “Just this once I will lie down with you to help you fall asleep.”

She smiled and scooted over, making room for him. He climbed in and pulled her head down on his shoulder, cradling her against his chest.

Within five minutes, she had fallen asleep.

He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, studying the delicate bone structure, the creamy skin. The cold sore on her lip was the only thing marring her perfect looks.

He smiled. He had a wicked plan for helping her get rid of it.

Marissa woke at five in the morning. Joel slumbered next to her, his sculpted body as beautiful close up as it was on the silver screen, but all desire had fled.

Anxiety over the meeting with the studio gnawed at her.

She’d dreamed they had yelled at her, and she had screamed back, like a bratty teenager, insisting it wasn’t her fault.

She stepped into the shower—the same shower where Joel had shaved her pussy and taken her up against the wall.

Things seemed completely different now, the next day.

She still had her screwed up life to figure out and Joel.

..well, Joel was just trying to make a movie.

She needed to remember that. She would hold up her end of the bargain, but losing herself in this illusion of being taken care of would be dangerous.

She got out of the shower and toweled off. She found her clothes from the day before neatly folded on his dresser. She brought them to her face and sniffed. Freshly laundered. She slipped them on and wandered out to the living room, standing at the glass wall overlooking the ocean.

“Did I say you could get dressed?”

She whirled around to find Joel standing behind her in nothing but his pajama pants, his arms folded across his muscled chest.

She wanted to brush him off—she wasn’t in the mood for his games. Instead, she sighed. “No, sir.”

“Take them off.”

Her pulse quickened. Well, at least playing the game was better than awkward morning-after conversation. She pulled off her shirt and tossed it on the couch.

He pointed at it. “Neatly folded.”

She rolled her eyes and picked it up, folding it into a neat square. She removed her bra and placed it on top.

He waited, his glittering eyes traveling over her body.

She unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them off, along with her panties. She shrugged. “Okay. They’re off.”

“Bend over the arm of the sofa,” he said, his voice silky.

“Why?” she demanded.

“Instant obedience,” he reminded her, strolling to the kitchen.

“It’s too early for this,” she grumbled.

“It is certainly too early for you to be getting sassy with me,” he said.

She heard the rattle of the drawer open and close. He held the big wooden spoon in his hand when he returned. He sauntered to her side and ran a hand over her bare ass.

She squeezed her eyes closed. “I don’t want this,” she said, kicking up her legs even though he hadn’t started.

He continued to stroke her. “This isn’t punishment, little girl. This is stress relief. You’re nervous about the meeting and I’m going to take the edge off.”

She stood up, but he put a hand on her upper back and pushed her back down. “Wait—what?”

“You need a spanking.”

“I do?”

He slapped her bottom and immediately rubbed away the sting.

Okay, maybe she didn’t mind it so much. He repeated the action several times, warming her skin without really hurting her.

She sighed, giving herself over to him.

“I need you to remember who is in charge of you when we’re at that meeting.

” He continued his slapping and rubbing, until she began to welcome it.

He began to pick up the speed, omitting the rubbing in between.

“You have been a naughty girl. You will go in and act contrite. You will say very little. I’ll do the talking. Understand?”

“Yes,” she gasped, the intensity beginning to pick up.

“Your agent and your mother will probably be there. Who is in charge of you?”

She hesitated, understanding his question. Did she really trust him to run her life? Wasn’t that Julie and her mom’s job? It frightened her to have to please all three of them. How would that work?

Joel stopped spanking her. “Are you in or out?” he asked.

She lay there, frozen. Was she going through with this, in the light of day?

Her mother would think he’d brain-washed her.

Her agent would be furious about the pay cut.

Should she let them try to negotiate with the studio and forget about this crazy arrangement with Joel?

But if she backed out, would the studio still take her?

Would Antonio? Or did that all hinge on Joel’s support?

She stood up and snatched up her clothes, running back to his bedroom.

She yanked them on, hopping on one foot, then the other, her vision blurred with tears.

His drapes were open, showing another spectacular view of the ocean.

She heard the sound of his footsteps coming down the hall.

She ducked down, sitting on the carpeted floor between the bed and the sliding glass doors, pressing the heels of her hands to her leaking eyes.

She didn’t even know why she was hiding—it was absolutely ridiculous—but her brain was too jumbled to make sense of anything.

“Marissa?”

She held her breath.

“It’s okay, baby. We just need to talk.”

Was it absurd that she wanted him to find her but didn’t want to answer? She sniffed, giving away her position.