Discipline by Lena Little

1

Delilah

“Idon’t want to eat them,” I whine to my dad, who angrily stabs his fork at his own peas, his nostrils flaring as he shakes his head and pushes his chair back from the table.

The sound of an overly loud motorcycle engine rattles the glass in our entire home and my father’s expression changes on a dime, from angry to smug.

“It’s high time you learned some discipline and respect,” he announces, standing from the table and tossing his napkin down on his seat. “And the time is now.”

My eyes follow him curiously as he moves to the door, opening it and sticking his head outside as the engine is cut followed by the sound of heavy footfalls approaching our front door.

“Welcome, Mister…”

“Just Daniel,” a voice that sounds like ashes and soot announces a few seconds before he comes into view. My dad steps back and the man who apparently was on the motorcycle engulfs the entire doorframe, his eyes landing immediately on mine and I freeze.

He’s tall, as in gigantically tall. Well over six feet and probably closer to six and a half. Silver is beginning to creep into his black hair and beard, but he still has all the virility of a younger man. Looking like a cross between a lumberjack, an Alaskan King Crab fisherman, and a Grizzly bear, he just stands there, arms crossed over his wide chest as his gaze bores holes into me.

My entire life all I’ve wanted is to feel safe and protected, something my cardigan wearing dad could never offer me, nor my mom which is why she left us high and dry after I was born. I’ve spent most of my life challenging my dad to stand up to me for once, but he just doesn’t have it in him. The man standing in our doorway now? Clearly a different story.

He looks like he just crawled out of a swamp, yet all that hair and those muscles give me a sensation of cozying up to a campfire and sleeping soundly on his barrel chest, despite all the wolves and predators that might be waiting in the midsts. He’s almost too masculine with his weathered face and that unkempt beard, but considering my dad’s half a man at most, having a new man with the equivalent testosterone level of an entire rugby team about to breach the entrance to the house, he more than evens things out.

Where my dad found this strange creature is beyond me, but what’s even more unusual is the feeling he’s giving me between my thighs, which cinch together for the first time in a long time, perhaps ever, as I rub my foot up and down my calf underneath the dinner table as my stomach turns into a tight knot.

The feeling in my belly is a warm, melting sensation like taffy being spun at the summer 4-H Fair, and the longer Daniel stands there looking at me the tighter and tighter my insides get wound.

“Meet your new disciplinarian, daughter,” my dad says, extending a hand toward Daniel, although the introduction isn’t necessary. I don’t need to be introduced to know this man is going to be something special to me. He’s already drawing me closer, his presence demanding I stand and leave my seat, the promise of safety he offers just by being in his proximity calling me, which he does without uttering a single, his calm silence speaking volumes louder than words ever could.

Getting up from my place at the table I move toward him, my stride picking up speed and I’m tempted to launch myself at him and land right on his thighs, jumping on them like trampolines and catapulting myself right up and around his neck, which I’d wrap in a big hug and welcome him into my life.

But his expression reveals he’s not about to ask for a quarter, let alone give one, and I wisely keep my hands to myself.

“Hi. I-I’m Delilah,” I announce.

“And I’m here to bring you to heel, Little Girl. So make up your mind now if you want this to go down the hard way, or the easy.”

My dad smirks and steps down away from the door. “I’ll leave you two to it, to make introductions. I’ve got work to do. Maybe you can get her to listen. I sure can’t.”

I’ve never seen my dad so happy, or so smug as he disappears into his den.

Daniel stands there towering over me, the door still open.

“What makes you think I’m going to listen to a thing you say?” I sass.

Without looking he kicks the door shut behind him grabs me by the hips, lifting me clean off the ground so high my head scrapes the ceiling.

“I’d rather you don’t. It will make this all the more enjoyable for me.” A deep belly laugh escapes him and I know I’m in trouble…big trouble.