I don’t like that answer, but I know Mitch and plans. Once he sets one in motion, there’s no changing his mind. We work quietly for another fifteen minutes.
But then I’ve got to ask, “How about if she’s upset we left her in there with him? She might never forgive us.”
Mitch grabs a drill to screw his sheet of drywall into the stud. “We’re paying her enough to forgive us. And, if that’s not enough, we’ll pay her more.”
Mitch’s answer sounds logical enough, but it feels false. The problem with Goldie is that she’s not a pro. She might have been the one who made the original suggestion of paying us with sex. But it’s obvious this isn’t anywhere near her normal M.O.
She’s a strange mix, that one. Pretty as a beauty queen but sweet and strangely shy. She laughs easily, but there’s sadness in her eyes. Obviously, she has experience. That baby she’s carrying didn’t create itself, and she’s hands down the best sex I’ve ever had. But there’s an innocence about her….
Whoever she was with before us didn’t treat her right. Didn’t know how to blow her mind or appreciate her the way Mitch and me did. But were we just as bad as him, locking her inside Jeb’s deranged version of a bedroom?
Did we just mess up the best arrangement we ever had?
Guilt curls in my gut. “If this doesn’t work, she might demand her money and cut out before the week is done. And I can’t say she wouldn’t be within her rights. What if Jeb….”
Mitch drills in the first screw. “Jeb wouldn’t hurt Goldie. You know that.”
Yeah, I do. But…“What if he drives her away?”
Mitch’s back stiffens. I can tell my words are getting to him. But then he says, “No, this plan is solid. Everything will work out.”
Mitch goes back to hang drywall, and I do too. I’m good at following his lead. That’s why when he’s called into play, nine times out of ten, they put me on the field too.
But after placing a few more pieces, I have to ask, “What if it doesn’t work out? What if she leaves and never looks back?”
Mitch doesn’t answer. Just loudly places screws around the perimeter of the sheet of drywall.
I watch him, waiting for his conscience to catch up with his pride. Mitch hates admitting he’s wrong. Maybe because his parents received thirty years apiece after they pleaded guilty. But he’s been my brother long enough to know I’ll wait him out.
And sure enough, after a minute or two, Mitch abruptly stops drilling in screws. He lets his head fall back and issues a frustrated groan of defeat. Then he says, “Shit. Let’s go check on them.”
We hear them as soon as we reach the hallway.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she’s crying.
“Sorry ain’t going to cut it,” Jeb answers, his voice vicious and gruff.
“Fuck! I’ll get the key from the kitchen!” Mitch says at the same time I rush to the door we padlocked closed after depositing Goldie in Jeb’s bed early this morning.
The transfer had been seamless. He’d curled his huge body around hers so instantly. I’d been sure Mitch’s plan would work.
But now…
I pound on the door, “Goldie! Goldie! Are you all right?”
“Nico…is that you?” Her voice sounds muffled on the other side of the door.
“Yeah, it’s me, mija. Tell me you’re all right. Did Jeb hurt you?”
“No…” she answers just as Mitch arrives with the key. “He’s…he’s punishing me…again.”
I still. Not quite understanding until I hear something I didn’t before. A steady creak and muffled thump staccato. The bed frame hitting the wall.
He’s not hurting her. He’s fucking her.
It doesn’t take Mitch nearly as long to figure out what’s going on as me. He massages his cock through his jeans as he asks, “Why is he punishing you, baby? What did you do?”
Goldie whimpers. “I touched myself.”
I instantly go hard. “I told you not to do that.”
“I know,” she moans. “I should have listened.”
“Tell them what else you did, little girl,” Jeb commands, his voice hard and mean. “Tell them why I’ve got you ass up on the mattress.”
“I…I came without permission. And I called him by his name while he was inside of me. I’m only allowed to call him sir or daddy when he’s fucking me. I didn’t know.”
“No excuses,” Jeb bites out. “You know now.”
“I know now,” she agrees. “But I can’t stop coming. I’m sorry, Daddy—I keep on coming. And he keeps on punishing me.”
Holy… My cock is heavy and pulsing now.
Mitch unzips his pants. Pulls himself out. “Talk to me, baby. How many times did he punish you for being bad.”
Luckily, she’s not too far gone to answer. “I don’t know anymore. Five. Maybe six. I’m trying not to come, but I can’t help myself. And Daddy won’t stop fucking me.”