He promised that you'd be home by ten.

Just a few more deals

and the long night would be over.

You could go home and after begging him for hours,

he would give you as many cuddles

as you wanted as long as you kept

your pretty little mouth shut for

the remainder of the night.

But soon,

It was ten.

And then it was eleven.

Eleven turned into midnight

and before you knew it,

it was three in the morning,

your eyelids heavy with sleep

but the loud music echoing in the background

of the club made it hard for you relax.

climbing onto his lap,

you were past caring,

burying your head into his chest

with his men around,

a low conversation about how the night had gone,

who was suspicious and who wasn't.

"What are ya doing?"

He whispered against your neck subtly

as his men continued to converse.

"I'm tired dada"

You mumbled into his chest.

"What did I tell ya huh?"

He asked you lowly.

"Not to touch you when we're not at home"

You breathed out.

"Get off and go find somewhere

to take a nap alright?"

He told you firmly,

intense blue eyes on you even though

you were avoiding them.

"Go in daddys office or something"

"I don't like your office"

You argued with him quietly.

"It's too quiet"

"You wanna lay in ya own room

when we get home?"

He warned you.

"No daddy"

You gave him pleading eyes.

"I don't want to lay in my bedroom.

I want to lay with you"

"Then get the fuck off and go lay in my office hm?"

He raised an eyebrow at you daringly.

"No"

You refused,

gripping the material to his shirt

in your little hand,

holding onto him tight,

your face still buried into his chest.

Waiting for him to say something harsh,

force you to move or threaten

you with a punishment,

moments went by without another word from him,

an irritated sigh leaving his mouth

as he reached for the glass

of whiskey on the table,

letting it slide.

He was finding himself doing

this more and more lately.

Every time you would beg

for something or refuse to stop,

he was giving in.

There was always that part of Jack Napier

that needed control but sometimes he figured,

what would it hurt to let you get away

with a little mischief sometimes?

"I hope you know I'm gonna tear that little pussy apart as soon as I get you home"

He taunted you

with a sweet kiss on your forehead,

a grin forming on his mouth as he focused

his attention back onto his men,

the conversation falling into deeper and more dangerous territory just like it always did.