Jordan opened the door and quickly pulled her inside, stepping back slightly so he could see the expression on her face.
Her lips popped open in surprise as she looked around in delight and took in the room before a small frown began to furrow her brow. It hadn’t been unexpected. She fought her desires constantly. It was Jordan’s pleasure to strip back her defenses and indulge her hidden needs, no matter how she tried to hide them.
Trish was perfect for him; she just didn’t always accept it.
The first emotion Trish had felt upon looking at the room Jordan had been so excited to show her had been unadulterated joy. The kind of joy a small child would take in getting everything they’d ever wanted. Her brain quickly caught up, however, and reminded her she wasn’t a small child—even if this room looked like something out of her childhood fantasies.
The walls were painted lavender with white trim, giving the room a serene feeling. The curtains on the windows were white but covered with lavender and cornflower-blue flowers, as was the bedspread. The bed was large but managed to look like a child’s bed with its white rails and simple lines. One wall was lined with bookshelves that were already filled. There was a frilly window seat, more than large enough to accommodate both her and Jordan, with cushions propped up all around it. Near another window was a table that, again, looked like the simple furniture that might have been found in a child’s room, but was Trish’s size.
There were also a few things that made Trish uncertain… like a large rocking horse, what looked like a speaking lectern, except the shelf seemed to be made of leather, and a swing hanging in center of the room.
What was she supposed to think, except…
“Is this a child’s room?” Even as Trish asked the question, she knew the answer. Some small part of her jumped with joy at the beauty and warmth of the room, while another part of her was incensed at this further proof of Jordan’s main interest in her complete dependence on him.
“No, this is a room for us.” He pulled her toward him, a knowing smirk on his face.
Trish pushed at his chest, trying to wriggle away, but he grabbed her long hair in one hand and tipped her head back with it to take her mouth in a searing kiss. Protesting noises rose from her, and Trish considered biting his tongue… but she didn’t want to find out what he would do if she did. Even so, she struggled against him, even more infuriated as it became clear how useless her struggles were.
She wrenched her mouth away from his. “I’mnota child!”
She squealed as he picked her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist for support. The bulge of his cock pressed against the splayed lips of her pussy, and Trish moaned. His hands moved down to her ass and squeezed the soft mounds.
“I’d say it’s very clear I’m aware of that.” Jordan’s voice was husky, his eyes alight with need. “But you are my little girl, my babygirl, and sometimes we’re going to have fun with that. Right here in this room.”
His fingers slid between her butt cheeks, seeking out the base of her plug, and she shifted, shuddering at the sensation of it pressing deeper inside her.
She slapped her palm against his shoulder.
While she’d become accustomed to being treated like a doll, dressed, bathed, and often pampered by Jordan, this went a little too far! She didn’t want toactlike a little girl or have a little girl’s room. He could brush her hair and pick out her clothing in a normal room—an adult room.
Trish ignored the room’s tug at some part of her heart, some wayward wisp of a dream leftover from her childhood. She’d grown up past that.
And she definitely wasn’t curious about what the swing or the rocking horse or the lectern were for.
“No!”
“Yes,” Jordan said, amused as he began to walk further into the room, holding Trish in front of him as if she were a little girl, in truth.
She wanted to scream with frustration and almost wished she were a little girl because then she could go ahead and throw the tantrum she was desperately trying to hold back.
It was odd, when Trish looked at the whole of their relationship, that she no longer feared him. He might spank her, might punish her, might torment her sexually, but she never feared anymore that Jordan might truly harm her.
Her life still didn’t feel real, though it didn’t seem nightmarish anymore, either. How had she gotten here? Why had she chosen as she had? Had it been the right choice? Especially in moments like this, when he was determined to remind Trish how little control she had over her life, even if she’d chosen this path.
“I think you’ll like this room more than you know.” He lifted Trish up and over his shoulder and gave her a little swat on her bottom in return for the slap she’d landed on his chest. He started moving across the room, toward who-knew-what.
Trish twisted around, trying to hang onto his side and peer around him to see where he headed.
“I don’t want to be treated like a child!” Even if it meant a room spun from her wildest fantasies as a little girl, with all the frills and beauty a mind could conjure. He came to a stop, and Trish twisted some more. They stood in front of the rocking horse. “You can’t just put me in a child’s room and expect me to use it!”
“Of course not,” he said amiably. Too amiably. Jordan wasn’t amiable. He also sounded distracted and did something with the hand that wasn’t holding her in place on his shoulder. “We’ll both be using it.”
Trish gritted her teeth and squirmed. Should she try to hit him or beat on his back? It would be useless. His body had the fine-tuned, hardened musculature of a soldier, and she had never had any real physical prowess. There were women who could have gotten out of this hold—Trish had seen them in the Wolf’s compound—she just wasn’t one of them. Trish scowled and tried not to pout like the child she tried to prove she wasn’t.
One of the things she disliked the most about being from the Moon was that, though Trish had been orphaned, lonely, and looked down on, compared to the women from Earth, she’d been pampered. The women and men on Earth had endured hardships Trish could hardly fathom. She’d only gotten a small taste of it when Jordan had kidnapped her, and, even then, he’d quickly become protective and solicitous. Trish had never had a chance to become a soldier.
She was helpless compared to Jordan.
