I swallow a frustrated growl. I thought we were past the Little Miss I Get What I Want stage and moving toward a more amicable relationship. “Tough. This isn’t funny or cute or whatever you want it to be, so go.”
“I’m not trying to be cute, I just can’t sleep!”
I suppose some acting out or a tantrum was inevitable, given everything that’s happened. I run through my options: if this was a situation on the street I’d de-escalate the emotions and then leave the area. But Adrienne’s not a situation, she’s my principal. If she were my sub I’d have a foolproof set of phrases and threats to run through to calm her down and get her back in line. Once she was calm, or possibly sore and teary, I’d comfort her and do something to make sure she did get sleepy.
But neither of those options is open to me here.
The sub techniques might work on her, though. My mind arrows off in that direction, mentally trying a few things on her and guessing what she might respond to. Simple things have worked so far, like getting her to say please and thank you and pardon instead of what. I could build on that by giving her a series of short, easy commands, and then—
But I catch myself. So far? Those have been slip-ups, not the start of something more. “Look. If you can’t sleep, being in here isn’t going to change that. Let me take you back to your room and let’s find you a book, okay?”
I start to get out of bed but her expression becomes mischievous and she grabs the sheet and dives beneath it.
“Adrienne. What the hell has got into you?” I reach for her but she wriggles out of my grasp and starts to fight back, slapping at my hands and elbowing me in the ribs. After a few moments she’s panting and victorious, sitting astride me.
“Ha!”
My eyes narrow. I reach across her body for her wrist and yank her sideways. Before she has a chance to regain her balance I’ve rolled her facedown on the bed with a knee in her lower back and her wrists pinioned in one of my hands. “I said, you can’t be in here.”
“Mmph mm,” she says.
I take some weight off her so her mouth isn’t muffled by the sheets. “What was that?”
“Fuck me.”
She looks flustered, but there’s a gleam in her eyes and her lips are parted. I’m so taken aback that I don’t react for a moment. Then I’m aware that, for all my good intentions, I’ve got her pinned to the mattress with her hands behind her back. Her T-shirt is bunched up around her underarms and the tiny shorts she’s wearing barely cover her backside. She’s got a lovely body, and her skin looks very warm and soft in the half-light.
She tries again. “Please fuck me, daddy.”
Daddy? My eyebrows shoot up. Am I so transparent that she’s figured out the exact title to make me hard and protective and indulgent all at once? “How do you know about things like that?”
“I just do, I don’t know. I see girls my age on social media who call their boyfriend that. Who have doms, and uh... I’m not a virgin, you know.”
I didn’t expect that she was, but I ignore that part. “It’s not for playing games, words like daddy, Adrienne.”
“I...thought you might like it. I just had a feeling. Please, da—”
“Stop it,” I rap out. I do like it. I like it very much, but not from her.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she says, “and I’m horny and I just wanted you to fuck me because I can’t get my mind to slow down. But if you aren’t going to, then just get off me so I can go back to bed.”
That sounds like we’re approaching the truth, finally. I can see that she’d be anxious given what she has to go through tomorrow but I don’t like that she’s snuck in here. I can’t treat her like she’s my sub and spank the living daylights out of her and then comfort her like I want to. I can only talk to her. “You shouldn’t use people like that, Adrienne.”
“I wasn’t!” she says, her voice rising petulantly. “I like you. W-why do you think I kissed you in the car?”
Does she really expect me to believe it was because she likes me? “Because you were a brat who was trying to take back power in a situation that was out of your control. You’re doing it again. Do you really think you can get the better of me?”
She starts to struggle, trying to get out from beneath him, for real this time. “I am not a brat! Get off me, you bully! Get off.” But I hold her easily without changing my grip, and she gives a frustr
ated scream and then lies still, panting.
“Are you done?”
“Piss off.”
There’s so much hurt in those two words that I want to lift her off the bed and into my arms, but I can’t let her see that she’s getting to me. “I’m going to let you go, now. I understand that you’re overwrought, so we don’t need to talk about this in the morning. And there’s no need to stay awake worrying about it. I’m not angry with you, all right?”
She doesn’t reply, but after a moment I let her go. She immediately flips onto her back and one hand delves down the front of her shorts. Her eyes narrow, challenging me.