“Well.” Mr. MacDiarmad considered Leander. Leander, in turn, fought with panic. He was not getting sent back to that place. He wasn’t! He’d… fuck, he’d grovel if he had to.
“I see my daughter was right.”
It took Leander a moment to process the words — and the rueful tone. “I’m not broken. Sir.”
“No. No, I don’t think you are. But I do think that I might be screwing up… first things first. Leander, do not injure my daughter during sexual situations — with the one caveat to all of your orders that you may slap her and-or bruise her in removing her if she tries to push anything on you that you don’t want. All right?”
Leander felt tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you, sir.” Continue reading