Expecting it All (Punishment Pit Book 7) Page 2

  I'm not his little anymore, am I?

  Not only had the pregnancy changed her body, it had irrevocably changed her marriage. Her husband could no longer treat her like his baby girl. And, like it or not, she was going to be a mother soon. There was no do-over. She could no longer pretend to be a baby when her son needed a mother.

  Tears filled Rachel's eyes as she realized how much trouble her marriage was in. She wanted to look away but she sat mesmerized, forcing herself to watch as her husband punished another woman the way he could no longer punish her—long and hard. The heavy paddle struck Trixie's ass repeatedly, turning it a deep crimson.

  When he changed position, she wasn't surprised to see Derek's hard cock straining for release, outlined perfectly for all to see through his tight black leather pants.

  The next sob Rachel heard was her own. She shouldn't have come. She should have stayed home, waiting patiently for Derek to come home to her, blissfully oblivious to the additional threats to her marriage.

  But she hadn't stayed home, and she couldn't un-see the scene playing out in front of her. Even if she could, she wouldn't undo her pregnancy. She loved the son growing inside her with all of her heart. So where did that leave her?

  "Rachel, are you feeling okay? Do you need something?"

  Matt Thomas was leaning close. She glanced sideways and saw genuine concern etched on his face. It struck her as funny that a complete stranger was able to read her better than her own husband had been able to lately. That realization did not comfort her.

  As her tears flowed harder, a sudden urge to get the hell out of the club consumed Rachel. She should have sat in the back where she could exit without detection. Everyone in the club would notice her leaving if she got up now. Ethan had taken her coat and her purse.

  A bitter anger struck, and she found herself resenting the fact that she had to grow up and worry about such tactical things. She longed for the days when her Daddy thought of her every need, showering her with love and care. All she'd had to do was submit.

  She knew it was irrational, but she felt the need to mourn the changes in her marriage. Baby girls couldn't have babies. Only women... mothers... had babies. She had changed, and there could be no going back now.

  "Rachel, what's wrong? Do you need a doctor? You're hyperventilating," Matt said.

  Panic. It had been almost five years since she'd had one, but she was having a panic attack. It was like riding a bike. It was coming back to her with clarity, and yet she was helpless to stop the waves of dread from washing over her.

  The roaring in her ears had started. It wouldn't be long now before she was in a full-out attack. She needed fresh air. She needed to stay calm.

  I need my Daddy.

  Chapter Two

  Rachel

  She managed to whisper his name between her panting breaths. "Derek. I need my Daddy." Her plea was punctuated by a sob.

  The next few minutes were a blur for Rachel as she became light-headed. She vaguely heard Matt Thomas interrupting the show, shouting out Derek's name to get his attention. Ethan arrived first, looking frantic and begging her not to have the baby on the floor of The Punishment Pit. Other members rushed over as the house lights went on.

  Nothing helped until Derek was there, kneeling in front of her, a look of sheer terror on his face.

  "Rach, what the hell? When did you get here? What's happening? Are you in labor?"

  Her fearless protector was falling apart before her very eyes, which only made her feel worse. They were quite the mess.

  She gulped in enough air to be able to squeak out one word. "Panic." It took Derek a few long seconds to understand, but once he did he took charge, scooping her into his arms and rushing towards the exit, shouting orders over his shoulder. "Ethan, find me a paper or plastic bag. Bring it to me. Right away."

  She heard Ethan shouting, "Should I call an ambulance?"

  Derek looked down into her eyes, trying to assess how bad it was. She couldn't speak, but she was able to shake her head.

  "No. Not yet. Just bring the bag."

  He was almost running with her in his arms by the time they burst out into the alley. The cold October air blasted them. She was instantly shaking from the frigid temperature, yet the fresh air seeped into her lungs.

  Derek leaned his back against the brick wall of the building, sliding down until he was sitting beside the door, cradling his wife in his arms, rocking her gently, as he had hundreds of times in the past. Rocking her to sleep, feeding her a warm bottle... this was home. The love and concern shining back at her through his brown eyes told her she'd been a fool to panic.

  By the time Ethan arrived with a brown paper bag, Rachel didn't need it. Members began to congregate, concerned for her. She felt like a complete fool for having disrupted the entire show with her irrational meltdown.

  Derek held her close, trying to ward off her chill while he barked orders at employees to bring her coat and purse, and for someone else to bring his car around from the parking garage.

  In less than five minutes her husband was carrying her to the already warming car, laying her gently into the passenger's seat, and lowering the seat back so she could lie comfortably.

  They didn't speak one word throughout the entire fifteen-minute drive to their house. Rachel dared to peek at his profile several times and couldn't read him. His locked jaw and tight grip on the steering wheel were the only indication of how tense her husband was.

  By the time they pulled into their driveway, her breathing was completely back to normal. Derek turned off the engine, but didn't move to exit the car.

  She finally spoke. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe that happened."

  Her words snapped him out of his trance. He turned to pin her with an unreadable stare. "What exactly did happen, Rach?"

  "You know. I had a panic attack."

  "Yeah, I got that. But why? Why were you there? Why didn't you tell me you were coming? More importantly, why did you just have your first panic attack in almost five years?"

  That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? They'd avoided the elephant in the room for months. There was no more avoiding it. Still, it took her almost a minute to formulate the words.

  "Everything is changing and I'm scared."

  She'd hoped he'd have some magical answers to make everything all better, the way he always did. That he didn't answer spoke volumes. She watched emotions cross her husband's face. In that moment, he looked so tired. So unsure. It scared her more.

  With resolve, Derek leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. They sat in silence for so long she wondered if he'd fallen asleep. Only the fast, controlled breaths betrayed that her husband was deep in thought.

  Random thoughts flickered through her brain as she waited. Was he angry with her? Would he have fucked Trixie on stage if she hadn't had her episode? Was that why he hadn't been coming home and wanting sex with her—because he was getting it at the club?

  The longer the silence went on, the shorter Rachel's breath became. She knew from experience how easy it would be to worry herself into another panic attack. Being her Daddy's little had been the best medicine for Rachel's attacks whenever she'd let life's stressors overwhelm her. For years her hero had taken such good care of his baby, making all major decisions so she hadn't needed to worry about a thing.

  That was it. Right there. She wasn't Derek's baby any more. Only adults had babies. That meant she had to face grown-up problems again.

  The air in the car became oppressive under the heavy weight of uncertainty blanketing both occupants. Rachel reached for the door latch, ready to abandon her husband and take shelter in the house. She wished she could go to her nursery. That room had always made her feel better, but that had changed, too. Everything was topsy-turvy. She could no longer go to her nursery without feeling heavy guilt for the resentment she felt rising up towards her young son; that his mere existence had robbed her of her previously happy marriage.

 
She hadn't gotten one foot out before he barked his order. "Don't you move, young lady. Daddy will come help you out of the car."

  It was his yummy tone of voice she hadn't heard for months—well, except when he'd used it on stage earlier that night with another woman. It was his Dom voice, and she couldn't have defied him if she'd wanted to.

  Derek circled to her side of the car; his expression unreadable as he took long, determined strides. Without asking, he reached down to place his arms under her knees and behind her back, plucking her out of the car as if she weighed nothing. He hugged her close to his chest as he kicked the car door closed.

  He had to juggle his load to unlock the side door into the kitchen. Once inside, he didn't stop to turn on a light or take off their coats. Instead, he walked through their dark house with great purpose, taking the stairs to the second story two at a time, as if someone were chasing him.

  Rachel was stunned when he passed the door to their master bedroom and made a beeline for her nursery. Once inside the room, he held her close as he leaned down to flick on the light switch. The soft glow of the lamps bathed the space in soothing warmth.

  It had been weeks since they'd played in the room in which they had previously spent most of their free time. She wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't for him to cross to the far side of the room to her changing table.

  She'd been on bed rest during the first trimester of her pregnancy, but Derek hadn't diapered her since those stressful days months ago. Only once he'd laid her on the padded top of the tall furniture could she get a good look at his face. When she did, her heart lurched. It was her Daddy in all his Dom glory.

  Her husband took her coat off first. He then crossed to the thermostat, turning up the heat in the room. He was always thoughtful like that; making sure his baby wouldn't catch a chill. Their eyes met as he walked back to her. She recognized a calmness about him she hadn't noticed was missing until it came back.

  It had been so long since they'd been intimate that she became nervous as he started undressing her. Her body had changed so much. She was self-conscious of the extra weight she was carrying.

  Yet, with each piece of clothing he peeled from her body, it felt as if he was peeling away all of the crap that had built up between them. By the time he had her naked, Rachel felt bare before him in every sense of the word.

  She reached out to brush his face gently. "Derek."

  His left hand covered her own palm, pulling her hand from his cheek to his lips, kissing her palm before smiling. "That's 'Daddy' to you, young lady. I'll be right back. Will you stay put like a good girl, or do I need to use the straps to secure you?"

  Rachel couldn't resist dipping her toe back into their age-play dynamic. "I don't want to stay here. I want to come with you," she pouted.

  "Tsk, tsk, tsk," he said as he reached for the fur-lined, leather cuffs. He slipped deeper into his role as he secured her wrists above her head. "We can't have you falling off your table and hurting yourself." Once he had her ankles secured, he took the time to rake his view up and down the length of her.

  She was self-conscious about her protruding belly, and the soft love-handles that had sprung up all over her body. As if he could read her mind, he reached out to press his palm across her baby-bump, moving slowly, reverently. There wasn't an inch of her body he hadn't touched intimately countless times before. He took the time to examine her now, spending extra time on her heavy breasts and sensitive nipples before slipping his thick digits through her damp folds.

  And then he was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts as he sauntered to the attached bathroom. She could hear the sound of running water and knew he was drawing her a bath.

  I hope it's a bubble bath.

  She heard him leaving, the water still running. He was gone several minutes and she began to worry that the tub would overflow. Then she reminded herself that baby girls don't need to worry about the water. That was her Daddy's job tonight.

  Rachel wrestled within herself, forcing her brain to switch gears so that when she heard Derek returning to the room next door, all she could think about was how good it was going to feel to have him take care of her again, even if it was for only one night. She was so tired of the heavy adult decisions she'd had to make.

  Once Derek had everything the way he wanted, he returned to his subdued baby and unbuckled her limbs before scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the bathroom.

  He had attached her booster seat to the toilet. It raised her high enough that her feet couldn't touch the floor, making her dependent on him to get up and down.

  "Go potty and then we'll get you in the tub."

  "Do I get bubbles? I want bubbles."

  A carefree grin she hadn't seen in a very long time lit up his face. "Of course you get bubbles. You've been a good girl, haven't you?"

  It was a loaded question, considering she'd interrupted his show only an hour before. "I'm trying, Daddy." Her words came out more seriously than she'd intended.

  "I know you are, baby girl. I only wish you’d shared how you were feeling with me before tonight. Still, none of this is your fault. It's my fault, but I know how to fix it."

  Hope flared. "It's not all your fault. I mean—"

  He placed his index finger over her lips to shush her. "Are you arguing with Daddy, young lady?" He raised one eyebrow, as he always did when he questioned her behavior. She adored that look on his face.

  "No, Sir."

  She finished peeing. He picked her up and carried her to the brimming tub, which was now close to overflowing with bubbles. She couldn't help but giggle as he lowered her into the warm water, the bubbles popping and tickling her.

  Her husband spent twenty minutes washing every inch of her body, taking the time to gently massage away the tension in her shoulders. After he had washed her long, brunette hair, he reached for the razor and shaving cream before helping her move to sit on a wide ledge of the oversized tub. This was their traditional location for her Daddy to shave not only her girly parts, but also her legs and underarms. Derek always groomed her, and in the weeks they'd grown apart, she just hadn't been able to take on the task for herself.

  The silence in the room was amicable. By the time Rachel leaned back to have her mound bared by her Daddy, she was growing sleepy. After her bath, he helped her brush her teeth. Daddy then whisked her into his arms again and returned her to the changing table.

  The rectal thermometer came out next, to ensure she didn't have a temperature. It was with mixed emotions that she accepted the diaper. "Daddy..."

  He looked up as if he could read her thoughts. "Listen to me. I know best."

  "Yes, Sir." She couldn't hide her disappointment that he wasn't going to fill her up with that big hard cock of his that she had missed so much.

  Derek stepped away for just a moment and returned with her favorite soft blanket and a baby bottle. Disappointment turned to contentment. She adored snuggling in her Dom's arms at the end of a long day. She'd missed it.

  He wrapped her in the plush fleece, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the padded rocking chair they'd spent hundreds of hours in over the course of their marriage. They settled in, Derek gently cuddling his baby as she snuggled in the safety of his muscular arms. And, just like that, the last few months of stress melted away and Rachel was home. Safe. Loved.

  The soft nipple of the bottle slipped between her lips. The warm milk with a touch of honey acted like a magic elixir, restoring her marriage to its former strength.

  She'd resisted when he'd started treating her like a baby early in their relationship. Acting like a teenage brat to get a spanking, or even a younger little girl who could pout and wrap her Daddy around her little finger, had been easy for her. Being treated as an infant, not so much. He'd been patient with her, only regressing her when he sensed her losing control or being consumed with anxiety. In time, being his baby had become therapeutic. Of course he would recognize that tonight, more than anything, she n
eeded the safety of his taking her in hand.

  They rarely talked while he rocked her, instead using the time to silently solidify their relationship, so when Derek spoke softly, it startled her.

  "I'm so sorry, Rach. I really thought I was doing the right thing."

  She had the perfect view of her husband's square jaw, covered with his sexy, five o'clock shadow. She wished she could see his eyes, but he was staring off into the distance as if he were contemplating heavy issues. She wanted to question him, but he held the bottle firmly in her mouth, as if ensuring he could speak uninterrupted.

  "You have to know how much I love having you as my baby, but I have to admit that I've been worried about whether I'm doing you a disfavor. The closer we get to the baby being born, the more worried I get that you're going to have a hard time adjusting to being the one in charge of someone else. I've tried hard to start seeing you as both my baby and a mother. It's not easy."

  Rachel used her tongue to try to push the nipple out of her mouth. She wiggled in his arms to try to free herself so she could sit up and hug her lug of a husband, but he was too strong.

  "That's enough. Be a good girl, take your bottle, and listen. I'm not done talking yet."

  He looked down into her eyes. She saw a cocktail of emotions shining back at her. She rarely saw her husband lose control, but for the briefest of moments he looked like he might burst out crying. She fought to free her left hand from the bundled blanket and he allowed her to caress his cheek. Her touch seemed to calm him.

  When he continued speaking, he didn't look away, but spoke directly to her. "The truth is, I'm scared shitless and I hate it. I'm scared of losing this." He let his eyes scan the nursery before looking back down at his baby girl. "I'm scared of losing this special part of our relationship."

  Uncertainty clouded his eyes. "I'm scared I'm gonna screw up our kid. I may be a great uncle, but what the fuck do I know about being a dad?" Then the look of uncertainty was replaced with fear. "But mostly, I'm afraid that you aren't going to need me anymore. And the next minute, I'm scared shitless you'll need me too much, and I won't know how to help you anymore."