Daddy’s Wild Girl (Montana Daddies #16)

Chapter 32

32

H er professor?

What the hell? That was wrong on so many levels. What the fuck was a professor doing getting involved with a student? And what had he done to her?

He was in a position of power already . . . if he’d then tried to dominate her in the bedroom too . . .

“Your professor?”

“I know it was wrong and stupid, and saying I was young and vulnerable is no excuse.” She put her hands over her face as though hiding herself from him.

Did she think that he was blaming her?

Like fuck.

“Hey, look at me.” He tugged her hands away from her face. “I need you to look at me while I explain something.”

“You have so many rules,” she grumbled.

“Baby, I barely have any rules. If you were with Hayes, I bet your life would be rule after rule.”

She shuddered. “Hayes and I wouldn’t work together.”

“No,” he said, jealousy rearing its ugly head. Shit. He’d brought up Hayes and now was upset at the idea of the two of them together.

Get your head together, man.

Deep breath in. Let it out.

“Hey.” Her cool hands touched his face. “I’m not interested in Hayes. He’s like a grouchy older brother. A pain in the butt. I’m not attracted to him. I’m attracted to you.”

He let the last of that ridiculous jealousy fade away. “I know. Sorry, I’m being an idiot.”

“Yeah. You are.” She smiled.

“Hey. You don’t have to look so happy about it.” He tickled her sides until she giggled, screaming and wriggling around on his lap.

Shit. That probably wasn’t his brightest idea.

Corbin stopped tickling her, his cock now hard and aching. He eased her back slightly, so she sat farther down his legs.

“Is everything all right?” she asked breathlessly.

“Fine,” he replied in a strangled voice.

“You shouldn’t tickle me. I might have peed myself.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be happy about me being jealous.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t really. I know how twisted and dark jealousy can get.” She shuddered.

“Hey, I’m right here. Nothing is going to hurt you. And I wasn’t seriously jealous. I know you and Hayes aren’t interested in one another.”

“Are you sure?” Now there was an anxious note in her voice. “Because I’m really not into him. He’s just a friend.”

Yeah, that anxiety was growing and he had to put a stop to it. Did this have something to do with her ex? Some leftover trauma?

Had she been holding all of this back?

“Easy, baby. Take a deep breath for me. Hold it. Now out nice and slow. That’s a good girl. Do it again. That’s it. You’re doing such a good job. I don’t think that you and Hayes are into each other. And I’m not really jealous. It’s just that I don’t want you to be with anyone but me. Did the asshole use to get jealous?”

“Yes. He was jealous of everyone. Not in the start. No, in the beginning, he was a different sort of person. Or so I thought. Now I see it was likely all a ruse to pull me in. He was like a spider luring me in so he could pounce. And once he had me in that web, it grew tighter and tighter until I couldn’t breathe.”

“Easy, baby.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “Is there anything I can do to help you? Do you want anything?”

“I . . . I . . .” She gave him a funny look.

What was she after?

Her gaze moved to the side of her bed, where the nightstand was. Reaching over, he opened it and found her toy squirrel inside. Pulling it out, he handed it to her and watched as relief filled her face. Her entire body relaxed as she hugged the toy to her chest.

“What’s his name?”

“She’s a girl. Nutters.”

“Do you feel better?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She sounded so small and lost that it hurt him.

“Come here.” He drew her close to his chest, rocking her back and forth until the rest of the tension left her body. “Good girl. You’re all right. I’m here. I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

Bebe was silent for a while, then she started to talk. “I thought he was so smart. He was older. A lot older. Like in his late forties.”

And she was now twenty-five.

The bastard was old enough to be her father.

What the hell?

Weren’t there rules about a professor getting involved with a student?

“I was flattered that he was taking extra time with me. I went to see him during office hours with a question and he was so helpful, and funny, and kind. He told me to come to him with anything and I thought that was just what a good professor did. I went back when I had something else I was struggling with and he scolded me for staying away for so long. I was . . . happy. No, that’s not quite the word. It was like he wanted to spend time with me and it felt so damn good.”

“I understand, baby.” After years of neglect from her parents, his attention had to feel euphoric to her. Fucking bastard was a predator. “What happened next?”

“He set up a weekly appointment for us. I thought it was a bit crazy, but when I got my next assignment back and saw that I barely passed, well, I figured I needed the help. I was so upset and he was so kind. I thought . . . I thought what a burden I was, but he was still so nice to me, giving up his free time. He said we had to meet in the evenings and that it would now have to be twice a week and could it be at his apartment because it was easier for him . . .”

“God,” he muttered. “That fucking asshole.”

“Before I knew it, his touches turned from friendly and short to longer caresses. And I told myself it was wrong. But he was so attentive. He wanted to know how I was doing in my classes. My dreams, my aspirations. He’d sit there and listen. When I told him about my mother, he was angry on my behalf. He understood me. Or I thought he did.”

“He groomed you.”

“Oh yeah,” she said quietly. “But I was too dumb to see it.”

He frowned. This was hard for her; he knew that. But he wouldn’t have her speaking badly about herself.

“Last warning, baby. No more saying you’re stupid or dumb or anything else derogatory. Understand?”

“I thought you didn’t have a lot of rules?”

“Seems I’m adding them all the time with you.”

She snorted. “Why am I not surprised?” She sighed. “When he kissed me for the first time, I was so confused. I knew I shouldn’t want him, but he stirred me. I’m not sure why I just went along with whatever he said, or why I obeyed him. But when he told me to open my mouth, I did. When he said to straddle his lap, I did.”

“He had the position of power. He was an authority figure. And you wanted to please him.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I remember wanting him to be happy with me. When I got a good grade in any subject, he was full of praise and I’d puff up like a rooster. When I got a bad one . . . I didn’t want to tell him. He would go all quiet. Tell me he was disappointed, but he knew I’d do better. Then he’d barely speak to me for the rest of the night. Sometimes . . . sometimes he’d send me away. That was the worst thing of all. It got to the point where I wanted to be with him. All the time. And when he was no longer my professor, I told myself it wasn’t as bad. So when he asked me to move into the apartment, I said yes.”

“No one knew?” he asked.

“No. No one knew. And once I was in that apartment . . . there was no getting out of that web. That’s when he told me that he was a Dominant. A Daddy Dom. And he thought I was a Little. There had been moments . . . times when he’d do things I thought were strange. Like one night, he wanted to feed me. I wasn’t allowed to use my hands. He cut up everything, fed me, wiped my face, and scolded me when I refused to eat something. Another time, before I moved in with him, when I’d done badly on a test, he asked me if I wanted to go home or spend time in the corner. I felt embarrassed, so I went home and he didn’t speak to me for several days. I was so beside myself that I . . . that I sent him a text and told him I’d accept corner time as a punishment next time. He was suddenly so warm and kind again.”

Fuck. He had completely manipulated her.

Who was this guy? She hadn’t said, but surely he could track him down. That’s what he did, and he was good at it.

He’d find the bastard.

Then he’d kill him.

How dare he do this to Bebe? To someone as wonderful and caring as her.

“Another time, he wanted me to sit and color. He said it was good exercise for the brain, that I seemed stressed, and that he wanted me to relax. I thought it made sense. Adult coloring is a thing, but he handed me a child’s coloring book. And I . . . I enjoyed it. In fact, I became so much into it that I didn’t hear him calling me for dinner and had to spend five minutes in the corner.”

She rubbed at her forehead. “I hated the corner. I never knew exactly how upset he was with me. If he’d be talking to me after. That was the worst . . . the silent treatment. It was such a relief to get out of the corner and find that he hadn’t stopped talking to me. I was so messed up. All I wanted was to please him, and I feared his disappointment. He never hurt me physically. He didn’t yell, but that silence would just wrap itself around my stomach and squeeze.”

“Baby, he did that to you. None of what happened was your fault. He manipulated you into depending on him. He created that fear inside you.”

“Wasn’t it partially my fault, though? See, the thing is, I knew I liked submitting in the bedroom. I’d had a boyfriend while I was overseas who was a Dom. That part wasn’t unknown to me. And when I decided to explore different parts of BDSM, Rhys took me to a club. So I’d heard about Littles and Daddies and Mommies. But I hadn’t ever thought that it might be something I would like. Until the asshole. He opened my eyes to that side of myself. And I liked it. I think more than he thought I would. In fact, looking back now, I almost wondered if he’d hoped I would fight him.”

“So he could punish you. Use it as a teaching lesson, or something else equally fucked-up. Another way to put you under his power and mold you into what he wanted you to be.”

“I think so. I was so into it that it almost seemed to annoy him.”

“And when he wasn’t happy with you, he’d push you away, turn cold and silent?”

“Yes. I used to hate that. It got to the point I would pretty much do anything he wanted to avoid the silent treatment.”

She flexed her hand. Was it hurting her? Another thought occurred to him and a flash of anger made him take a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He placed his hand lightly over hers. “Did he have something to do with this?”

“W-what do you mean?” she whispered.

“Your hand. Sometimes, it trembles and I’ve seen you wince before while using it. Do you have some sort of old injury? Was it him? Did he hurt you?”

“Ohh. You noticed that, huh? Uh, not directly.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“Um, as well as the silent treatment and corner time, he was awfully fond of making me write things out. So if I got a bad grade on a test or something, he might make me write out a two-thousand-word essay on where I’d gone wrong or on the topic or something.”

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“Sometimes it would be after I’d already been typing or writing a lot, and my hand would spasm and cramp . . . but he . . . but he wouldn’t let me stop.” A sob escaped her. “He just kept pushing and pushing me.” She rubbed at her face with her other hand.

“Fuck, baby. Fuck.” And she didn’t think he’d been physically abusive? “Have you had it looked at by a doctor?”

“It just cramps sometimes if I overuse it or someone squeezes it too tight or something. It’s really fine. I don’t think there is anything that can be done.”

They’d see about that. “There’s a doctor at Sanctuary Ranch we can take you to in order to get that checked.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Oh yes, it is.”

She was going to learn what it was like to have someone put her first. To take care of her.