The Boss's Runaway

I’m breathing like I’ve just run a hundred circles around the barn. Not only because he’s making me restless, yearning for something I can’t even name, but because I’ve never had a confidant. Someone on my side. My heart has climbed into my throat in response to his defensiveness of me and the words just spill out. “I ran from my father,” I say, laying my cheek on his shoulder. “He treated me like a servant, sending me out to tend the farm at five o’clock in the morning. He worked me until I collapsed. I wasn’t allowed to have friends or my own money or go anywhere by myself. My food was rationed according to his moods. My mother tried to intervene when I was younger, but he bullied the life out of her and eventually she just became silent. If he didn’t approve of my work on the farm, I was sent to sleep in the barn.”

I’m trembling by the time I finish telling Locke everything.

His chest is wheezing up and down, his fist shaking on the table.

“I stole money from his wallet in tiny increments, so he wouldn’t notice, starting when I was fifteen. Three years of saving and I still only had enough for a few gas fill-ups. That’s why I had to sleep in my car. That’s why I need the waitressing job. My money is already mostly gone—”

“Shhh.” He shakes out his angry first, using gentle fingers to stroke my face. “You don’t have to worry about any of it now. I’ve got you, honey.”

“He might come after me, Locke. His pride won’t be able to stand it.”

“Sissy, I’ll protect you from anything and everything.” He says these words gruffly against my temple and I lean into him, eager for the first comfort I’ve been given in so long, my breasts mashing to his big chest. “I’m going to take care of you.”

It’s so tempting to allow this. To let him give me permanent security. But it doesn’t sit right. Not after three years of dreaming of being on my own. Making my own decisions. “No, Locke. You can’t take care of me. You have to teach me how to take care of myself.” There’s a low rumble in his chest, as if he strongly disagrees. “There’s so much you can teach me,” I finish on a whisper, turning more fully in his lap, letting my parted lips trail up the side of his neck. “Isn’t there?”

He's vibrating against me, his hand journeying down from my neck, hesitating, then cupping my breast roughly through the T-shirt, taking me by surprise. Making me whimper against his ear. “I could show you how a good Daddy treats his little girl.”

This makes me so wet between my legs, I worry momentarily that I’ve peed my pants. But no. It’s a different kind of moisture and it’s accompanied by a tug so severe in my core that I have to bite my lip until the first intense wave passes. “Yes. Please?”

Locke closes his eyes for long seconds, then stands abruptly with me in his arms. This is it. He’s giving in. He’s going to bring me to his bed and relieve my body’s frustration, as well as his own. He’s going to show me how it’s done…and officially make me a woman. There’s some irony in the fact that he’s going to make me a woman by treating me like a little girl, but it makes perfect sense to my body, apparently.

And his.

I can feel that stiff rod beneath my butt as he carries me down the hallway—

We bypass his room.

I make a sound of protest as we enter mine and he sets me down carefully on the edge of the bed. Then he reaches into the neckline of his shirt and wraps that meaty hand around a cross and backs out of the room with a guttural curse, slamming the door behind him. “Get some sleep, Sissy,” he calls through the door, sounding winded. “You’re safe. From your father.” A beat passes. “And me.”

Chapter Six

Locke

I sit shirtless on the edge of my bed, praying the rosary for the third time.

There is something particularly vile about reciting the words when I’m covered in a sheen of sweat and my cock is dripping in my boxers. I’m all but shaking with the animal need to walk across the hall and pummel that little pussy. It’s mine. She has offered it to me. She was mine the second I spotted her on the security monitor.

But I’m going to stay strong.

I’m going to help this abused girl. Assist her in starting a new life, finding her footing.

She’s not going to start her life as a plaything for a man twice her age.

I’m not the kind of man who has playthings, either. I’m not some sick pervert who role plays and calls himself Daddy.