Tie Me Up Daddy Read online

  So now, I just needed to salvage what was left.

  “Please go,” I said, turning my face away. “Just go.”

  Mr. Channing knelt before me then, taking my hands in his big ones.

  “You’re special to me Laney Jones,” was all he growled. “You’re special, don’t forget that.”

  His hands felt so warm, so reassuring, but I didn’t believe it for one second. Because I hated that word “special.” It meant nothing, it was just an empty phrase, a mean-nothing, toss-off filler that he was using because we were in a bad spot. So I refused to look at him, jerking my chin away.

  “Go,” was my final word, low and trembly. “Go.”

  And with that, the big man got to his feet, huge form looming, taking up all the space in the room.

  “I’ll be back,” was all he said. “I’ll be back.”

  And with long strides, he was out the door. I sat wooden in the chair, heart racing, unable to move as the sound of a car’s wheels screeched outside. That must be Thorn and his buddy, with Miss Lane tied up in the backseat. But I didn’t want to think about it anymore, because tiredness washed over me in a wave then. The events of the afternoon had been crazy, and suddenly I was boneless, weak and helpless, collapsing to the floor.

  “Laney!” screamed my mom, scrabbling over to help me. “Laney!”

  But the world grew dark, my vision going black. Because I was nothing. The man I adored had come to save me, but his actions underlined what I already knew. Right now, I was the flavor of the moment, so he’d swooped in like Superman. But there was no substance behind it. There were no reasons behind Thorn’s infatuation, other than being young and available. So I gave into the wave then, drifting off. Better to go unconscious than think about the future and what it held. The darkness overcame me, and gratefully, I let myself go.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Laney

  Six months later …

  “Plié, one, two, three,” I chanted. “Plié, plié, now bow.”

  The little girls in front of me giggled, and I couldn’t help but smile. They were so cute, tiny tots dressed up like Tinkerbell in pink leotards with baby ballet slippers. My heart warmed even as I smiled sadly.

  Because I’ll never have a child of my own, and these little girls were a reminder of that. Since coming back to Kansas, I took my mom’s advice and opened up a ballet studio in the middle of town. It’d taken some persuasion on her part.

  “You can do it Laney,” Mary encouraged. “You’re talented, real talented, people know you.”

  “But Ma,” I’d protested, shaking my head. “No one’s going to come. Even if they can afford it, who wants to learn ballet out here? People here like cheerleading and football, not classical music.”

  Mary frowned.

  “We liked it, and we’re no different from our neighbors,” she scolded. “What, you think you’re better than them?” And seeing the shamed look on my face, my mom softened. “Honey, just give it a try, please? The rent is really cheap over at the mall, that tiny space would be perfect with a barre and some mirrors. Just give it a try.”

  And so here I was now. Mary had emptied her bank account for the deposit on this place, and lo and behold, but folks signed up for classes. Or they signed up their daughters to be more accurate, and now I had full days spent teaching little girls the basics, how to move, how to balance, and how to feel the music.

  Because dancing is still my escape, what brings me joy in these dark times. It’s been a horrible six months, and more than once I’ve finished a day at work, all cheerful smiles, only to collapse on my bed at home in tears. But slowly, things have gotten better. The girls are genuinely cute, and quite a few show promise. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, out here in rural Kansas, but several of my students and are fairly serious about pursuing ballet. Sometimes they ask me questions about my old life, and I try to answer as best I can.

  “So what was it like at the Academy?” breathed Tania, a pretty pre-teen with especially narrow feet. “Was it hard?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “It was difficult, definitely. We practiced at least thirty hours a week. That’s every day, for hours at a time.”

  Tania was stunned, her brown eyes widening in shock.

  “But how?” she whispered. “Weren’t you tired?”

  I smiled kindly.

  “I was tired all the time, Tania,” I agreed. “But it was worth it. Because New York opens possibilities that you can’t imagine, it’s the type of place that makes your imagination fly.”

  “I want to go there!” the pre-teen squealed. “Maybe my mom can take me next year!”

  “Maybe,” I said kindly. “Auditions for the junior corps are held when a dancer turns fourteen, so maybe then.”

  “Oh wow!” she squealed then, almost quivering with joy now. “I’m gonna go practice, I gotta be ready, you’re my hero Miss Jones!”

  I smiled as Tania pranced off. Because with impressionable young girls, you can’t give them the full truth. You can’t tell them how competitive it is, how there are booby traps everywhere, certifiably insane people who point guns at you. Nor can you tell them about the handsome men, the alphas who sweep you off your feet, only to leave you collapsed in a heap, completely broken.

  But I wasn’t broken. I was here and doing fine. Still hurting, sure, but I was gonna be fine in the long run. Even now, my heart quivered a little thinking of Thorn, but taking a deep breath, I drew on my inner Zen. I’d survive.

  So turning back to my most recent class, I smiled again, tears in my eyes. They were seven year-olds in pink tutus, twirling like fairy princesses, a tray of whirling cupcakes.

  “Right,” I chanted. “Right, right, no Katy, that’s left, right, right!”

  The little girls moved in a wobbly line, hands on their hips, heads bobbling up and down as they danced. It was cute for sure, sugarplums come to life. But still, this was a lesson and I needed to be heard. So I raised my voice, the sound cresting over the music.

  “Lina, right, right!” came my call. “Right, sweetheart, then jete!”

  But instead of moving in unison, the class broke down into a mass of giggles, the girls holding hands over their mouths as they peered at something behind my shoulder. I frowned.

  “Ladies, you know that you can’t just stop in the middle of a routine when you’re on stage,” I scolded lightly. “What’s going to happen when we have our performance? Are you going to stop if someone coughs?”

  “Yes, Miss Jones,” the girls chorused. “I mean no, Miss Jones.”

  But the giggling wouldn’t halt, and one especially cute redhead pointed behind me.

  “Miss Jones, I think he’s looking for you,” she said with an adorable lisp. “That man is here for you.”

  I spun immediately. I’d thought they were giggling at a cute dog walking by, seven year-olds are known to be distracted by furry puppies. But this was no dog. It was Thorn Channing himself, looking completely out of place in my small ballet studio. The man was huge, dark and imposing, those blue eyes searing me even as he stood silently in the entryway.

  “Can- can I help you?” I stammered.

  His eyebrow rose.

  “As a matter of fact you can,” came his smooth reply. “But I’ll wait. I see you’re busy right now.”

  And nodding, I turned away to continue the class. My skin prickled excitedly, the hairs on my arms standing up even as my insides grew soft. Stop it! The voice in my head scolded. You can’t have this kind of reaction to him, not after what happened. You lost everything because of this man, don’t you remember?

  But I couldn’t get my body to behave. Despite my resolve, my face felt hot, insides melty and warm. Oh god, Thorn was back! What was he doing here though? I thought I’d seen the last of him after that incident with the gun, it’d been so insane.

  Barely able to concentrate, I made myself go through the motions, more entreaties of “Right, left, right!” And finally, class ended, the little girls
scampering off, still a mess of giggles. God, the time was now, and taking a deep breath, I turned to face Mr. Channing. Better now than never, there was no point in putting it off. So slowly making my way over, I stepped into the entryway and there he was, blue eyes flashing.

  “You dance well,” the alpha rumbled, eyes caressing my face, running slowly to my breasts. “You dance beautifully Laney.”

  I took a deep breath. What to say? I’ve been practicing hard because I’ve had nothing else to do? It’s my only skill, my only way to make a living?

  But that was too much information, so I smiled with my lips and stated calmly, “Thanks. I’m glad you appreciate it.”

  Those deep blue eyes flashed at me again.

  “Your balance and muscle control are incredible,” the big man rumbled. “Even better than what I remember.”

  Heat flared in my cheeks. Oh my god, was he talking about my ballet skills on the stage, or was he talking about us in bed together? Because I’d done so many disgusting things, bending over backwards as he dicked my ass, then pulling my legs apart into splits so that he could pummel my pussy. It was wrong, so wrong, and I’d let him do it all.

  But that was in the past, and there was no sense in crying over spilled milk. So keeping my expression controlled, I asked neutrally, “What are you doing here, Mr. Channing? How can I help you?”

  At that, the alpha’s expression grew serious.

  “Can we go somewhere?” he asked. “Another practice space? Somewhere we can be alone?”

  I let out a biting laugh.

  “This is the only practice space Twirling Tutus has, Mr. Channing,” came my frigid reply. “We’re not rolling in dough, so we just have this tiny studio and a small office in back.”

  The big man nodded slowly, eyes giving nothing away.

  “The office then,” he growled, and against my better instincts, I led him to the secluded space. It was more of a broom closet than an office because there were no windows, and the air was stuffy and hot. Even worse, Thorn’s big frame took up all the room, making the space seem even smaller. So even though we were only a couple feet apart, I leaned backwards, trying to keep my distance.

  “So,” I began again, voice well-modulated and what I hoped sounded like under control. “How can I help you?”

  The alpha looked down before looking back up at me, blue eyes searching.

  “How have you been Laney?” he asked softly. “You look good.”

  That wasn’t what I expected to hear.

  “I’m good, Thorn, real good,” was my terse reply. “Now how can I help you?”

  Oh god, I just wanted this conversation to be over. In such close quarters, I was shivering at his closeness, my nipples hardening under my leotard, jutting out like little rocks. He always does this to me, Thorn always causes my temp to go up, and even now, six months later, it was happening.

  A smile slid over his face, eyes gleaming as he took in my stiff tips.

  “Still the same Laney huh?” he drawled, suddenly supremely confident. “That’s my girl.”

  And that set me off. I couldn’t bear to hear his casual tone of voice, not when I’d gone through so much, suffered like an animal caught in a trap. So I let him have it.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I bit out. “No idea at all.”

  The look in his eyes was silky.

  “Oh really?” came that rasp. “You don’t remember? You sure about that?”

  Because as if in a dream, one big hand reached up and crested over a hard nipple, making it jump out more, stiff and achy. Oh god, why was this happening? Why was my body betraying me? But I’m no dumb eighteen year-old naïf anymore. Even if I couldn’t control my body’s reaction to the billionaire, I could still control my brain.

  So I slapped his hand away, jerking my torso backwards.

  “You don’t touch me,” I hissed. “You don’t get to touch me.”

  One black eyebrow raised again but at least Thorn didn’t protest. He put his hands up and said, “Fine, kitten, it’s fine. I won’t touch you for now, let’s just talk and clear the air.”

  I knew I looked ridiculous, my nips standing on end, pointing straight at the CEO, with my cunt moistening despite my harsh words. And Thorn could tell for sure, that patrician nose wrinkled just slightly, like he could smell my wet pussy, and another smile crossed his face. But he didn’t say anything, choosing the neutral route.

  “Quiet pretty baby,” he growled, eyes eating me up. “Quiet.”

  But the time for silence had passed because I wanted answers. So raising challenging eyes to him, I bit out, “What are you doing here Thorn? Tell me now or get out.”

  And this time, the harsh demand got a response. Mr. Channing nodded before opening his mouth, looking at me thoughtfully.

  “I did a lot of things wrong, Laney. A lot of shit I regret, and I came here to tell you that.”

  I looked away. That was the least of it, and I wasn’t going to dignify that with a reply. But Mr. Channing went on.

  “I’ve been an arrogant asshole my whole life,” he began slowly. “I’ve always been this way, a user, and I didn’t realize how wrong that was until you came along.”

  I swung to look at him then.

  “Don’t put this on me,” came my biting reply. “I have nothing to do with you and your problems.”

  But Thorn stayed calm.

  “I know baby girl. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me a long time, probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole life. But I want to clear the air because the things Serena told you were true, to an extent. I admit it. I used women, I slept with a bunch of ballerinas at the Academy, I was a fucking tomcat. I used my position to dazzle girls, and they came like lemmings. It was so easy,” he said slowly. “Too easy. I was getting bored of it.”

  I swung to look at him.

  “Oh really?” came my sarcastic question. “Then why’d you fuck me? If I was so boring, then why’d you do it?”

  The words were crude and disgusting, but Thorn wasn’t thrown off. Instead, his eyes narrowed slightly before going calm once more.

  “Because baby girl, you made everything different,” he began slowly. “You were different from what I expected. You were giving and loving, with a real zest for life. You love music, you love being a ballerina, and it showed in your dance.”

  The words ripped me in half but I wouldn’t give in. He’d hurt me so badly that I couldn’t cave, I wouldn’t let myself cave. So I acted mean and nasty, trying to get a rise.

  “So?” I spat. “You’re saying that the fat girl got further than you think. So what? That’s hardly a compliment.”

  He frowned.

  “First you’re not fat, sweetheart,” he growled. “Gorgeous is more like it. Sure, you don’t have the typical ballerina body, but so what? Audiences love that plush form and you know what? Your dancing sells tickets, and that’s more than what any artistic director could hope for.”

  “Second, you’re so different,” he continued, wonder creeping into that low voice. “You’re different and it’s a breath of fresh air. The ballerinas I’ve been with in the past only wanted to know what I could do for them. Whether I could give them a solo, whether or not I could put their name in capital letters at the top of a program. But you never asked for that.”

  “I did,” I burst in then. “I did. I danced the solo in The Plumed Feather, don’t you remember? And you’re the one who made it happen.”

  “I made it happen,” agreed Thorn, “but you never asked for it. See baby girl? That’s the difference. The other girls always had their hand out, coaxing, demanding, even forcing me sometimes. Yes, I can be forced. But it wasn’t like that with you. You, sweetheart, are truly giving, going where the music leads, giving it your all. And I love that about you.”

  My mouth snapped shut. Even the mere mention of the word “love” made me go tense like a rabbit. I had to get this situation under control. I had to take t
he wheel and drive this conversation like a boss.

  So steeling myself, I looked fully into the billionaire’s eyes.

  “What are you here for Thorn?” I asked, voice on edge. “I don’t have anything for you. We’re finished, remember? The scene with the gun, the crazy lady, all that?”

  The alpha looked at me thoughtfully before answering. And when he did, his voice was quiet and low.

  “I’m here for you, Laney,” he rumbled, eyes searching mine. “I’m here to see if we can make it work between us, no more games, no more hook-ups, no more misunderstandings. I want to try, baby girl, really try this time.”

  My heart leapt inside, but outside, my expression remained frozen.

  “Really?” I asked sarcastically. “You want to try after disappearing for six months, and then re-appearing like magic?”

  Thorn took a deep breath, that big chest expanding while looking me straight in the eye.

  “I didn’t come to see you because I needed to look deep in myself and figure out what the fuck was wrong,” he ground out.

  I let out a half-hearted yelp.

  “What was wrong with you? That’s a nice change, I thought it’d be what was wrong with me.”

  I expected Thorn to storm off or slap me across the face for my nasty words. But the alpha knows how to handle animosity, and he took another deep breath.

  “Yes, what was wrong with me. Like I said before, I was a fucking tomcat and I wanted to stop that shit. I wanted to be a real man for you, get all my shit in order before approaching you again. Because I love you, Laney Jones. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, maybe ever. And I was a fucking idiot for letting you go, for letting that woman manipulate our relationship.”

  I shook my head, eyes blurring with tears. Because this was what I wanted to hear, what I’d lain in bed at nights dreaming of, my hopes so high that I couldn’t even admit it to myself. And now the billionaire was saying that he wanted to be with me.

  But I couldn’t believe it.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying Thorn,” I said in a pained voice, refusing to look at him. “I’m a small-town girl from the middle of nowhere. I have nothing to offer a billionaire like you. You just want me because we’ve been through a lot together, so you feel like you have to make it up to me somehow. Please don’t,” I choked once more. “Because you don’t have to. I’m fine, I’ll be fine here in Kansas.”