This makes sense, but it seems such a terrible shame that they can’t even talk about a place that means so much to both of them. Emboldened by the night, the dress, by his support of me, I ask, “Do you think that new memories might help? Like if he came down to London to see the new theater with you?”
“Once I find one worth buying you mean?” He thinks about this. “You know, it very well might.” He covers his hand with mine. “I’m used to being the one pushing other people to do things, not the other way round.”
I chew my lip. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Sweet girl, not a bit. I’m touched.”
When our plates have been cleared, I say, “Do you mind that I wore a dress like this tonight? It’s not...how I usually look.”
He smiles and rests his hand on his chin. “You can dress however you want. I just want you to be happy. Is that dress how you feel tonight?”
I nod. I’ve never relished having to do grown-up things but somehow Rufus has made it not only bearable, but pleasurable. I enjoyed going to the doctor to get the pills. I like the way I look in this dress.
“Well, you look beautiful. I like you when you’re feeling little, and I like you when you’re feeling older. I like you all the time, very much.”
There’s an odd tug at the center of my chest, and I want to tell him how much that means to me, but I can’t quite summon up the courage. Instead, I look at him under my lashes. “Do you like it when I’m bratty?”
He grins. “No.”
I lean forward and whisper to him, my lips close to his ear. “You’re not supposed to fib, daddy.” Then I bite his earlobe.
He growls at the back of his throat. “Okay, we’re getting the check.”
We drive to his apartment, because of my shoes, and we’re quiet in the car and on the ride up in the lift.
Once we’re inside he gestures toward the kitchen, saying, “Do you, um...”
But I wrap my arms around his neck and press myself against him. He kisses me, inhaling sharply, then picks me up and carries me to the bedroom.
When he puts me down by the bed I reach down to undo my shoes but he catches my hand and shakes his head. “Leave them on for a minute.”
I grin at him as he strips me naked except for my shoes. “I’ve been picturing what this would look like all evening,” he murmurs, trailing a forefinger over my bare skin and he walks around me. He tugs me into his arms. “How did I get so lucky?”
Our faces are so close and I just look at him, feeling myself breathing against him. A few of the butterflies have returned but they’re fluttering with exciteme
nt as well as nerves. Kneeling before me, he takes off my shoes, and looks me right in the eye before he starts to kiss my feet, then my calves, and then my inner thighs, each kiss more demanding than the last. That heady sensation of being subsumed by him and sinking into a place where my mind clears steals over me. The strength of him, his large hands on my body make me let go of my worries.
He undresses, and then spends a long time kissing me and licking me all over, and bringing me close to coming and then stopping. He’s done this three times, and I’m sweaty and panting when he roles on top of me and pins me beneath him.
“I might hurt you,” he says.
If he does hurt me I know that I’ll be able to bear it. “I like when you hurt me, daddy.”
He kisses me, hungry, demanding. “That’s my good girl.” I’m pinned by the wrists and he’s got a heavy hand on my inner thigh, holding me in place. He looks very thick and I wonder how he’s going to fit. When he does push inside me it feels so tight. He watches the pain flicker over my face, but I don’t close my eyes.
“You’re being such a brave girl for daddy.”
And the pain is suddenly gone. He watches me as he fucks me slowly, and I keep my eyes open, showing him how brave I am.
He withdraws suddenly and I cry out in dismay, but he doesn’t go far. Hooking my thighs over his shoulders, he licks me in the ways he’s learned I like. I bury my hands deep in his hair and watch him. It was just a short time ago that a terrified girl cowered before him, unable to explain or speak in her defense. I wonder where that girl has gone, and if she’ll ever come back. Maybe I’ve outgrown her now.
Then I can’t think anymore because I’m over the edge, and I clutch his shoulders, my nails digging into his flesh.
I have no time to recover before he’s above me again, thrusting into me, his hand wrapped around my throat. “You’re so tight after you’ve just come, kitten, did you know that?” he growls. His other hand twists in my hair and grips it tightly.
Our eyes are locked together, and I watch him through my post-orgasm haze as his eyes darken and his breath becomes ragged. Then he comes, his thrusts hard and sharp, his body going rigid.
A few minutes later he pushes himself up on his elbows and kisses me softly as he withdraws. “Are you all right?” he asks. “I hope I wasn’t too rough.”