Page 3 of Melt For Us, Daddy (Big Daddy Energy #4)

Cordelia

T ired. She was so fucking tired, right down to her bones.

But as she steered her car toward the apartment she and Ivy shared, she knew the night wasn’t over yet. Beside her, Ivy sat silent, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she watched the city pass them by.

There were conversations they needed to have, things she needed to tell Ivy that she should have told her ages ago. But, selfishly, part of her hoped those conversations could wait until morning. Until she’d gotten some sleep and maybe cleared her head a bit.

Neither of them said a word as she parked in the garage attached to their building.

Last year, they’d moved to a more upscale apartment complex, thanks to the promotion Cordelia had busted her ass to get and the extra money they’d banked from the online auctions they’d thought had been run by Club BDE.

As it had turned out, they were being run on the side by one of Braden’s ex-employees and as soon as Braden had discovered them he’d shut the auctions down.

The money had been nice while it lasted, especially since she and Ivy enjoyed playing with others anyway. Might as well tuck some money away for a rainy day while doing something they loved, right?

But even without the auctions, they were finally able to afford a nicer place, so they’d moved into a much larger apartment on the other side of town.

Three bedrooms, with one serving as a spare room for guests while the other they’d converted into an office-slash-closet to give them plenty of space for their clothes.

Between their day jobs and the outfits they wore to the club, they needed the extra space.

Eventually, she wanted to buy them a house. Somewhere permanent, somewhere that was theirs in every possible way. But they were both happy with the apartment for now, though they did enjoy scrolling through the listings on various real estate apps just to see if anything caught their eye.

With the car parked and the engine off, Cordelia climbed out of the driver's side, making her way around the vehicle to let Ivy out. But instead of waiting for her, like she’d done every single day since they’d made that leap from friends to lovers, Ivy opened her own door and stepped out.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

Ivy froze, looking down at her hand still on the handle of the car door, and blinked. “I… sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Pity stirred in Cordelia’s chest. Her poor babygirl. “It’s all right, blossom. We had a long night, didn’t we?”

“Yeah.”

Taking Ivy’s hand, Cordelia pulled her close, burying her face in her girl’s hair. The feel of her Ivy in her arms settled her in a way nothing else could. “I’m sorry. I never wanted any of this to touch you.”

“I know.”

There was an edge to Ivy’s voice that had Cordelia biting back a sigh. She couldn’t blame Ivy for being upset, all things considered, but god she was exhausted. “We should get inside.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Those two little words unraveled some of the knots in Cordelia’s stomach.

Taking Ivy’s hand, she led her girl inside and to their apartment.

Ivy immediately moved to take Cordelia’s suit jacket, and as they went through their usual ‘after the club’ routine, the tension seemed to drain from Ivy’s body.

Service was her love language, and when she was upset or stressed, nothing calmed her more than doing things for the people she loved.

That, or being brought to tears over Cordelia’s knee and then forced to come until she nearly passed out.

But tonight, she seemed to need the service, so Cordelia let her go through their routine.

Standing beside the front door, she looked down as Ivy knelt at her feet to untie her boots.

Affection and guilt tangled inside her, squeezing her lungs so tightly she could barely breathe as she stepped out of one boot and then the other so Ivy could set them on the shoe rack in the entryway.

Tomorrow, Ivy would take them to their closet, put them in their assigned box. She would do it without being asked, because it was her nature. It was how she loved, and just then Cordelia couldn't remember a time she’d ever felt so humbled by her girl’s service.

Jacket, boots, dress shirt, pants. Ivy undressed Cordelia, and then herself, hanging up what needed to be put away, tossing what needed to be washed in the hamper. Then she retrieved Cordelia’s favorite pajamas from the drawer and they both dressed for bed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed they’d shared for more than two years now, Cordelia beckoned to her girl, tapping her knee in silent command. Ivy hesitated, just a moment, but that moment was enough to have fear lodging in Cordelia’s throat.

But then Ivy took one slow step forward, then another, before kneeling at Cordelia’s feet, her head bowed for the final part of their bedtime routine.

“We need to talk,” Cordelia said softly, running her hand over Ivy’s dark tresses. “But not tonight. Tomorrow, after we’ve both had a good night’s sleep.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I love you, Ivy Mae.”

With a quiet sigh, Ivy turned her head to rest her cheek on Cordelia’s thigh, left bare by the shorts she’d chosen to sleep in. “I love you, too. Are you… never mind.”

“You know how I feel about that, little girl. You start a question, you finish the question.”

Silence fell between them, and Cordelia let it stretch, knowing her girl would eventually come clean. Ivy didn’t need constant reminders to behave, and though she sometimes struggled to submit right away, she almost always did as she was told.

Tonight, however, was apparently one of those rare times when Ivy was not going to submit without a fight. “I’m too tired for this right now. Can we please just go to bed and talk about it tomorrow?”

Cordelia’s instinct was to push the issue. Put Ivy over her knee and spank it out of her if she had to. It had worked for them in the past and she had no doubt it would work now.

But truth be told, her girl really did sound tired. Almost as tired as Cordelia felt herself. If she pushed Ivy to talk to her when they were both so bone-tired, the odds were good one or both of them would end up saying something they regretted.

Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow was soon enough for the talk they needed to have.

“All right, blossom. We can go to bed. Hold your hair up for me, baby.”

Sliding her hands up under her hair, Ivy lifted the long locks from her neck for the final part of their nighttime routine.

Cordelia unhooked the necklace Ivy wore every day, the one Cordelia had given her their very first Christmas together.

A flower for her little blossom, with every petal a different gemstone.

The light from the lamp beside the bed caught the stones, sending a rainbow of light dancing over Cordelia’s hand.

It wasn’t just a necklace. It was a symbol of the promises they’d made to one another, the life they’d decided to build together.

Not for the first time, she felt the weight of her role in their relationship, the responsibility of not just being Ivy’s lover, but her Domme.

The person Ivy should be able to turn to, to lean on, to ask anything of without hesitation.

I’ll fix this, baby. I swear I will.

With that silent vow, she carefully hung the necklace on its stand and helped Ivy to her feet so her babygirl could climb into bed. Switching the lamp off, she pulled Ivy into her arms, and willed herself to sleep.

Jacob

Sleep eluded him, yet again.

He’d thought maybe it would be easier here, away from home, in the opulent apartment they’d placed him in for the time being.

At his fingertips was everything he could possibly want and more.

Not only was the kitchen stocked with eggs and meat and plenty of fresh vegetables, there had been a box of rich chocolates waiting on the counter.

At Zachary’s insistence, he’d eaten one, embarrassing himself by actually moaning out loud as the sweet taste of it melted on his tongue.

Sugar was poison, or so he’d been told, but it was a really, really tasty poison. If his father ever found out, no doubt he’d be punished for such indulgences.

That thought brought with it worry over his sisters’ current situation. Was Hannah keeping her promise to watch over Sarabeth? Was his father sticking to his usual plan, waiting until Jacob’s return to dish out whatever punishment he deemed fit?

He had to be. There was no point in punishing sweet little Sarabeth if Jacob wasn't there to watch. And yet, the worry still plagued him.

Deciding that there had to be some better use of his time than lying in bed worrying, Jacob slipped quietly from his bedroom and into the living room.

There was a television, larger than any he’d ever seen before hanging from the wall and Zachary had shown him how to use it, even offering to let Jacob pick a show for them to watch before they went their separate ways.

Back home, they had tvs but nothing as grand as this. And they’d only had whatever local channels were available. They didn’t have any of the… river programs? No, that wasn’t right. Creek?

Streaming! The streaming programs, as Zachary had called them, were something entirely new to Jacob.

Hundreds upon hundreds of options for him to choose from, so many that he’d found the choices entirely overwhelming and had eventually returned the controls back to Zachary, who had turned on a show about a group of friends living together in a big city.

New York, he thought. Mostly the show hadn’t made much sense to Jacob, but Zachary seemed to find it amusing, so he hadn’t complained.

Mostly, though, he’d watched Zachary, studying his reactions, what he laughed at and what he didn’t.

If Jacob and his sisters were going to be a part of the world outside the church, they’d need to learn how to fit in.

At least, that’s how Jacob saw it. Perhaps Hannah and the others would have a different plan, but he couldn’t ask them.

Zachary had given him something called a ‘burner phone’—though he wasn’t sure why anyone would want to set a phone on fire—but none of his sisters had their own phones back at the compound.

Reaching any of them would mean going through their husbands or worse, his father, and he couldn't risk putting any of them in that kind of danger.

Besides, he didn’t actually know any of their phone numbers.

Swallowing hard against the grief and guilt stuck in his throat, he picked up the remote and pressed the button that would turn the tv on.

Sound filled the large room, making him jump, and a moment later Zachary came rushing out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of very small shorts and holding a gun in his hand.

“Oh. It’s just you.” Laughing, Zachary ran a hand through his hair, which only made it stick up even more than it already was. “I thought someone had broken in.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t sleep and I thought… I’ll turn it off.”

“Nah, man, it’s cool. Just need to turn the volume down a bit. Here, I’ll show you.” Taking the remote from Jacob’s hand, Zachary showed him the controls for the volume before handing it back. “Night. Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t.”

Yawning, Zachary headed back to his room and Jacob hit what he thought was the button to open one of the streaming services. Instead, a box popped up, prompting him to change the picture and the brightness.

It took him several more tries and nearly twenty minutes to get what he wanted, but he eventually got there. And even though nobody was around to see his accomplishment, he grinned up at the television as he scanned the contents. He was learning things already.

Pride is one of the seven deadly sins, Jacob.

Ignoring his father’s voice in his head, he clicked the button to move onto the next movie and then the next, reading the little descriptions under each as they scrolled by.

Some looked funny, others sad. Still others had pictures of people holding knives dripping with red and he was very sure he did not want to watch anything with that much blood, so he bypassed those without even bothering to read the descriptions.

Then he stopped on one with a picture of a woman dressed just like his mothers and his sisters.

All in beige other than her white apron, her hair in a single braid pulled over her shoulder.

Her face was covered in shadow, so he had no idea if it was someone he knew or not, but the title… the title had his blood running cold.

Prophets of Pain and Suffering.

It took him three tries to click on the movie for the full description, his hands were trembling so bad. But when he did, his heart slammed against his ribcage at what he read.

A movie. About his church.

He shouldn’t watch it. The deacons would say they were all liars. Heretics. Blasphemers sent by Satan himself to destroy the church.

But then again… wasn’t he one of them now?

Lifting the remote, he pointed it at the tv screen, and hit play.