Her Hollywood Daddy (6 page)

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.

He walked around the bed and gazed down at her. She didn’t know what to expect. Would he be stern? Business-like? She didn’t dare look at him.

“Baby-girl,” he said softly, “everything’s going to be all right. I promise.” He squatted beside her. In the next moment, he pulled her into his arms, cradled like a child. “You’re scared and you’re feeling pulled in too many directions. You’re a pleaser by nature and you’re not sure you can please everyone.”

She couldn’t believe he nailed it. She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.

He cradled her head to his chest, rubbing her ear with his thumb. “Shh. It’s going to be all right.”

“How?”

“I know it’s tricky, baby, but we’ll work it out. I promise.”

She sniffed, embarrassed her tears were wetting his chest.

He held a tissue to her face. “Blow,” he said.

She tried to take it from him, but he refused to give it.

“I said, blow, little girl,” he said, but his voice was gentle.

*****

Joel held Marissa, pouring his strength into her. He hated that he hadn’t been able to head off this breakdown—he’d been trying to help her through it with the stress-relief spanking, but now he feared he’d backed her into a corner.

He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to do this with him, that he’d still help her get back on the movie, regardless. Except he couldn’t make himself say it. He truly did believe she’d be better off here, with him. He wanted to help her get her life back together. If he let her walk away now, she’d walk right back into the mess she left. He had no confidence in her finding her way out, when she hadn’t even been able to show up on time, even under the threat of being fired. And if he was completely honest, he would admit he didn’t want to give up this extremely hot opportunity for fantasy-fulfillment with her. He hadn’t dated anyone since his divorce and it suddenly felt like his heart had started beating again. He cared again. He desired again.

He rocked her, stroking her hair until the tears stopped.

“I think I do need that spanking now,” she sniffed.

He stilled. Had he heard that right? Hell, yeah! Not one to ever let a spanking go un-delivered, he maneuvered her into the face-down position. Her butt looked so cute in her tiny cut-offs, but he’d have to be careful not to leave marks on any part of her thighs because they didn’t cover much.

He spanked her with the jean shorts on first, just because they were too sexy not to spank over. When she began to wriggle, he requested she pull them down.

She reached back and shuffled her shorts and panties down. He closed his eyes to keep the mental picture. It was one of the most submissive poses—the lowering of panties while already over the lap. His cock strained against her hip, but he had no intention of getting his own needs met this morning—this was for Marissa. He kept it light, planning to give her enough time to settle into it.

She relaxed over his lap, not offering much protest in the form of wiggling or dodging. Gradually, he picked up the intensity. She began to gasp and jerk under his hand. He kept it at that level until she whimpered.

“Just a little more, baby girl. I want to be sure we get all your endorphins flowing.”

“Mmmph.”

He picked up the intensity just a little more and her head jerked up, her back arching as she squeezed her cheeks together. “Stay in position,” he warned.

“Is it enough?” she asked.

He bit back a laugh. “It’s enough when your Daddy says it’s enough,” he said firmly, still spanking hard.

“It hurts,” she whined, rolling her bottom from side to side like she might swim away.

“I know, baby. You’re being a very good girl right now staying on Daddy’s lap for your paddling.”

She moaned.

He delivered five more full-strength swats and then brought his hand to rest on her warm skin. “It’s over, baby. Come up for some sugar.”

She scrambled to turn around and he cradled her again, wiping her tears. She nestled into him, as if eager for his tenderness. He loved being able to give her what she needed.

“Come on, let’s get you some breakfast.” He helped her pull up her panties and shorts, zipping and buttoning them for her, then picked up her up.

She giggled and kicked. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying my little girl. Wrap your legs around my waist like a monkey.”

She obeyed, holding her own weight with her legs and snuggling in close. Of course she knew just what to do. Marissa Sparks had a latent Little just begging to be nurtured. He carried her to the kitchen where he made her a smoothie.

“Yum,” she said. “What’s in it?”

“It’s my detox special—kale, pineapple, almonds, chia seeds, coconut oil and lemon juice.”

She took a sip and made a smacking sound with her mouth. “Wow.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. So you think I need detoxing?” Her finger went to the cold sore on her lip.

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

She flushed, her shoulders sagging and he immediately regretted it. After the meeting he could scold her all he wanted. Right now she needed hand-holding. He checked the clock. Only seven a.m. They still had some time to kill.

“Let’s take a walk,” he said when they finished their smoothies.

“On the beach?” she asked, her expressive face lighting up.

“No, in traffic. Of course on the beach,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her out the kitchen sliding door and down the deck stairs to the sand below.

“I can’t believe you live right on the shore,” she said, as if she didn’t command a salary worthy of any kind of house she wanted.

He wondered what her financial situation was.