Jasmine

This whole thing feels so surreal. My brother, repentant and subdued and in custody. My father, the man who’s kept me in constant fear, dead. Rico, the man I’ve longed for but written off as far too good for the likes of me, protective and caring and vowing he loves me. And we’re going to see the woman I thought was dead. It’s almost as if I can’t process all of this, like I’m going to blink my eyes or wake up and find myself somewhere else. Parts of this have felt like nightmares and parts dreams. I want to stay in the dream and not wake up this time.

So when Rico walks me down a long, dark hall, the sounds of murmured voices around me fades as I focus on him. Tall. Strong. His large, warm hand holding mine, our fingers laced together in a way no agent in this building has missed. I want to savor this moment, because I know that good things like this don’t last for a girl like me.

“You’ve been a brat, but you haven’t been a bad girl.”

Just thinking of him saying those words makes another lump rise in my throat, so when he asks me if I’m hungry, I can only shake my head. I can’t speak. And when he scowls in that way that says he’s not buying it, my belly does a little flip, because it doesn’t matter if I push him away or deny his efforts to care for me. He’s going to anyway. And I fucking love that.

“We’ll leave soon, and have something to eat when we get home,” he says, as we approach the office at the furthest end of the hall.

Home.

Have I ever really had a home? My family’s lived such a transient life, I’ve never really considered any place home. I have no childhood remembrance of holiday traditions, or markings on a wall showing how I’ve grown over the years. No special family heirlooms or memories I’ll cherish. What I value and hold on to is what I have here. Now. So when I grasp his hand tighter than normal and tuck his arm against my side, I don’t really think about what I’m doing. It’s more instinctive than anything.

He pulls me into a vacant doorway. Leaning against the doorframe, his face is cast in shadow. I can see a faint line of silver at his temples and his strong, furrowed brow, but little else. He traces his thumb down the apple of my cheek to my jaw, and cups my face in his large, strong hand. I close my eyes, allowing myself to feel this.

“They’re gone,” he says. “Those who will hurt you. They’re gone now.”

I nod, and he pulls me to his chest, his voice low but strong. “You’re going to need me to keep telling you this. You belong to me now. You’re mine to protect and mine to care for. Mine to cherish and mine to love. Mine.” I glide my arms around him, holding onto him. He chuckles. “The only thing you have to fear from now is when your bratty behavior lands you face down over my lap.”

My body heats at his words and I purr against his chest. “Is that right? I’m beginning to think you like putting me there,” I tease.

His erection pushes up against my belly, proving my theory. “What gave you that idea?” he asks and when I laugh, he lifts my chin. “That’s my girl,” he says approvingly. “There’s the little spitfire I know and love.”

Before I can respond, he’s kissing me, holding me to him when my knees go weak, with one hand on the small of my back and the other grasping the back of my neck. His kiss says what my heart longs to hear.

I love you.

You’re mine.

Too soon, he pulls away and whispers in my ears. “Let’s finish our work here so we can head home.” There’s a promise in his words, and my heart races with excitement. I long for the familiarity of home. Time alone with Rico. The simplicity of a domestic life with my bossy bear of a man.

I nod and let him take my hand again as he leads me to the large, glossy door at the very end of the hall. My heartbeat accelerates. Will my mother be waiting for us there? But when the door opens, there’s just a man dressed in a suit at a desk, waiting for us. Rico leads me in, and the man gives me a curt nod. He’s younger than Rico by about a decade, slim and severe-looking. Under normal circumstances, this is the type I’d avoid, the by-the-book agent with an ax to grind. But here with Rico, I’m safe. The man sits up straighter and nods to Rico. “Sir.”

“Gordon,” Rico says. “Colt’s filled you in, I presume.”

“He has.” The agent’s jaw tightens but I can tell he’s holding himself back from what he really wants to say. He likely knows my history, then. A knock sounds at the door, and a man I recognize as Sonya’s man Colt steps in the room.

“Have a seat,” Rico says. The only other seat in the room is the one I’m sitting on. In one swift move, Rico lifts me out of the seat and slides me onto his lap, gesturing for Colt to sit. Gordon’s brows raise before he can control his reaction, but Rico doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, he scowls at Gordon as if challenging him to question him, and Gordon closes his mouth and looks back at his computer screen. I nestle against Rico’s broad chest, a warmth seeping through me as his arm comes around me and tucks me into him. I feel little, safe, protected, sitting upright on the lap where I lost my mind belly-down just a few hours prior. My core tightens at the memory of that spanking.

“This is Jasmine Francoise,” Rico says, “And she’s with me.”

Gordon’s lip curls up in a snarl. “Clearly. I suppose you’re more comfortable in his lap than a jail cell?”

Rico’s body tenses around me and he growls dangerously. “Do you have a problem, agent?”

Colt chuckles beside us but Rico ignores him.

Gordon looks from Colt to Rico to me, clearly outnumbered.

“She should be a convicted felon, sir,” Gordon says with disdain.

“For your information, agent, she’s been granted amnesty with new information that’s been brought to light. Her cooperation with us means she’s no longer under arrest or a suspect.”

“You have that all on record?” Gordon snaps.

“Oh, Gordon,” Colt says beside me, clicking his tongue warningly. “You speak far too freely. I’m warning you, you do not want to push this envelope.”

I lean against Rico. His low, stern growl commands the attention of everyone in the room. “Enough, agent. We’ll speak of this later.” I don’t really know how Rico is going to handle this, but it dawns on me that I don’t need to. Rico’s got this.

“We’re not here for your ridicule,” Rico says, his harsh, stern tone making me shiver. “You speak out of line one more time and I’ll have your badge. Am I clear?”

The man’s eyes widen and he nods like a chastened child. Swallowing, he croaks out, “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Rico continues. “Apologize to Jasmine for your rudeness.”

“I’m sorry,” the man says, clearly flustered. “I didn’t mean—”

“No excuses,” Rico snaps. “Apologize.”

“I’m sorry,” the man says, his cheeks flushed with anger or embarrassment or both.

“Now pull up the files I had you find and tell me what you know,” Rico commands. He holds me against his chest but pins the man in place with a piercing look that dares him to speak out of turn again.

I want to take Rico home, strip his clothes off, and worship his cock on my knees to thank him for this. His control and dominance turns my insides to butter. I want to show him how thankful I am. Instead, I lay subdued against his chest and let the steady beat of his heart settle me.

“Sir, we have the woman you seek, in witness protection as we’ve discussed. Her current location is Paris, France. She’s been briefed by what’s happened here, and wishes to see her daughter.”

Rico’s hand finds mine at these words. I don’t speak at first, but steady my breathing. They discuss details at length, but it all passes in a blur for me. I didn’t hear much beyond she wishes to see her daughter. Rico said that we would go to my mother, but it seems so sudden. So soon. I’m overwhelmed with the need to cry, but these men won’t get my tears. The only one who ever will is Rico. I sit still until Rico gently pushes me to my feet and leads me to the door. I don’t even hear the men’s parting words as I follow him out. I’m going to Rico’s. I’m going to see my mother.

I’m going home.

“Eventually, little girl, I’ll teach you to behave yourself a little better. I’m giving you a little grace now, but I’ll expect more from you.”

For some reason, the very thought excites me. I take a nibble of the grilled cheese sandwich he’s made me and follow it with a sip of the creamy tomato soup. I sit on a chair in the kitchen while he prepared the simple meal for us, but I’m not very hungry. My thoughts are on my mother and the plane we take to Paris in the morning. It’s hard to make myself choke down food when I have a lump in my throat and Rico wasn’t super sympathetic.

“Oh?” I ask him, throwing sass at him like it’s confetti. “You’ll teach me to behave, will you?” I toss my head at him, watching as his gaze follows my long, blonde hair as it cascades down my front and over my breasts. I’m wearing nothing but his t-shirt. “And what might that entail, Ricky?”

“Oh, a simple method,” he says, bringing the frying pan to the sink and rinsing it with water. It sizzles and steams before he turns to give me that look that makes my heart stutter. “Punishment for misbehavior and rewards when you behave.”

“Mmm,” I say coyly, my heart thundering in my chest and my panties dampening. “What sort of punishments do you have in mind? A little slap and tickle?”

I love baiting him.

Pulling out a chair across from me, he slides his own plate on the table with twice as much food as mine, and gives me a stern look with furrowed brows. “Stoke the fire enough, and you’ll get yourself burned.” He points his spoon to my bowl. “Eat,” he instructs. “I want half that bowl of soup gone, or I’ll feed it to you myself with you bare-assed on my knee.”

Jesus, he’s bossy. I nod and take a sip of soup to placate him.

“I’ll give you slap and tickle,” he says with a rare chuckle. He eats half a sandwich in one bite, chews, and swallows, before he speaks again. “I can be a lot more creative with punishments than a spanking session,” he says. “Though I do have a certain fondness for my palm against your beautiful little backside.”

“As do I,” I murmur, chewing my sandwich. I swallow. “And what sort of rewards do you have in mind?”

His lopsided grin makes my heartbeat race. “Finish eating, sweetheart, and I’ll show you.”

“Ricky,” I tell him, losing the teasing tone and letting myself confess to him just a little. “I’ve never been one to follow rules, though. I’m not obedient. I’m not sure if I can really please you in that way.”

Reaching for my hand, he squeezes it. “I don’t expect perfection, Jasmine. And I know you’ve never been one to follow rules. But you’ve never had a good reason to. You’ll see.” Maybe he’s right.

I finish my meal in silence, earning me his approval. “Good girl,” he says, clearing our plates. His praise seeps through me, and I smile to myself.

Leading me to his bedroom, he sits me on his knee and slowly strips off my clothing, before he leans me back in bed and kisses me from my forehead down to my toes, taking his time ravishing me with his mouth and tongue, my wrists captured deliciously in his firm grasp.

“You’re mine,” He whispers in my ear, when he parts my legs and slides in between me. “Mine,” he says with a firm thrust of his hips that makes my pulse race. “Mine,” he says, when he meets my climax with his.

The sun is setting over Paris when our plane lands. The past few hours have passed in a whirlwind of packing, travel, and climbing aboard this plane. Rico was the one who orchestrated it all, though I did most of the packing. He might be bossy and in charge, but a girl needs to pack her own things. When I told him this, he gave me a playful smack to the ass, but then sat on the edge of the bed and watched as I carefully packed minimal makeup, hair supplies, jewelry, and shoes.

“We’re going to see your mother,” he muttered, his hair tousled comfortably, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Hell, even Rico all domestic looks hot as hell. “We’re not hitting a runway.” But I know he’s just teasing me. He watched in rapt attention as I fixed my hair, spritzed body spray, filed my nails, slid into a pair of tight-fitting jeans layered with a tank top and comfortable flats. “You’ll freeze your ass off on that plane, though.” He wrapped me in an oversized hoodie of his that smells like him. He might never get it back.

We left this afternoon on a direct flight, and though I ate on the plane under his instruction, I wish I hadn’t now. My stomach churns with nerves.

“I’m not sure this was such a great idea,” I mutter to Rico. I scowl at him because I have no idea what else to do with myself, and it makes me feel better to direct my nerves into anger. “Why does she even want to see me? She left me to a monster, and yet I’ve forgiven her. I forgave my brother. Does that make me weak?”

“No, baby,” Rico says, pulling my hand into both of us and bringing my fingers to his lips. He kisses them softly. “That makes you strong. That gives you the freedom to leave the past behind you and live the rest of your life unencumbered with anger.” He smiles. “The rest of your life with me.”

I don’t want a ring on my finger. And I’ll take my name to the grave. I was born Jasmine Francoise, and I’ll die Jasmine Francoise. But yes…the rest of my life with him? Yes. I give him the faintest of smiles. He smiles back at me, as if he knows what I’m thinking. And maybe he does.

We take a taxi to the hotel he’s booked, a swanky but private place with valet parking and attendants ready to see to our every whim. I help unpack our things when we get to our room, and look to the large, comfortable four-poster bed. I’m strangely energized. A bottle of nerves.

“You need some sleep,” he says, unbuttoning his cuffs. “Tomorrow will be a big day, and I want you well rested.”

“Sleep?” I tell him. “I don’t think so. Not now.” I toss my hair, and hope he hears the underlying challenge. I know what I need. I hope he does, too.

His eyes stay focused on mine while he unfastens the cuff on his right wrist. “Are you defying me, little girl?”

I shrug. Of course I am.

I watch as his jaw tightens. I don’t even realize I’m stepping involuntarily backward until he prowls closer to me. My back hits a wall and there’s nowhere to go. He advances on me until he has me pinned in place, caged in against the wall.

“Not tired?” he says. “Feeling feisty, are we?”

“I am,” I tell him. “I don’t know about you. Eeee!” I squeal when he lifts me straight up in the air and over his shoulder.

“So you need me to wear you out,” he says, plopping me down on the bed. I bounce on it and feel my eyes go wide when he reaches for his belt buckle. “On your knees, chest down,” he orders.

I scramble to obey, both eager and terrified to feel the spanking he’s about to give me. I dread it but need it. God, do I need it.

I’m still clothed when the folded leather meets my ass, and it hurts like hell but I need more. He slaps the belt again and again.

“You’ll behave while we’re here,” he says. “And trust me.”

When a particularly harsh lash lands on my upper-thighs, I hiss out and arch my back, but quickly fall back to my chest on the bed. “Good girl,” he says, giving me one more whack of his belt. The buckle hits the floor as he comes to me and his hands find the clasp of my jeans. He pushes them down and kisses my heated skin.

“On your back,” he says. I obey, submersed in the freedom of obedience. Pulling down my panties to my ankles, he kisses my thighs before he swipes his tongue lazily through my folds. I arch and keen at the intensity, but he holds my hips and works magic with his tongue until I’m screaming his name and chasing my climax. I come so hard my eyes close and my breath whooshes out of me, spasms of pleasure ripping through me.

I finally settle back down and he’s holding me against him. “That’s a good girl,” he says. “A good spanking and a good orgasm. That ought to make you good and tired. Now you settle down and get some sleep.”

I sigh. “Mmm,” I whisper. “You’re so good to me.” I take a deep breath and let out the words I need to say in this moment of complete vulnerability. “I love you.”

“And I love you. You let me do this for you,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “Thank you.”

All this time I feared this was one-way, that I needed his dominance and protection, but he’s happy when he’s caring for me. Somehow, taking care of me fulfills him.

I sleep blissfully by his side and wake the next day nervous but excited. I get ready to go to the little coffee shop silently. I’m glad he’s with me.

“Settle down,” he says over his coffee, and somehow the simple command is all it takes for me to stop tap-tap-tapping my foot with nerves. I earn an approving smile by eating a whole croissant and drinking my juice.

Rico’s gaze travels upward when a feminine voice sounds behind me.

“Jasmine?”

I recognize her before she says another word. She looks just like me, tall and thin with high cheekbones, blonde hair tinged with the slightest bit of silver. I’m on my feet before I even register what’s happening and she pulls me to her. “Jasmine,” she whispers, rocking me.

“Mom.”