“Come, sit. Open your present.”
She does so robotically, sinking to sit on the floor pillow by the table. “How’d you know where everything is in my cabinets?”
“I’ve eaten dinner here several times now. I’m observant by nature and have seen you pull dishes from the cabinets, from the dishwasher, and even from the sink where you fake-whined about having to wash them by hand and threatened to switch to only paper plates and plastic forks. I’m sure if we were at my house, you’d know which cabinet the plates are in too.”
Allie pauses and then a tiny smile curls her lips. “Cabinet right of the stove. I remember thinking it was weird because they should be in the left cabinet.”
I grin as she sees my point. “I actually agree with you, but my chef is left-handed. She set it up so she can spatula with her left hand, grab dishes out of the rack in there with her right, and plate dinner without even having to take her eyes off the pan. I suspect that if she had to do it in reverse, there’d be a higher chance of her dropping my dinner, so I let her put the plates wherever the hell she wants to. As long as I get to eat.”
She laughs at my joke, and I move to put the awkwardness behind us. “Please, open your gift. I’ve been burning with curiosity about whether you’d like it.”
Allie lifts an eyebrow but nods and begins tossing tissue paper around like confetti with a smile already on her face. “You know, if you got me diamonds—”
“I thought about it, but no. They’re not precious enough.”
Her curiosity piqued, she reaches deeper, pulling out a heavy wooden box wrapped with a silk bow. “What is it?”
It’s a rhetorical question as her hands are already tugging at the bow, a delighted gasp coming from her lips as she opens the box. “Oh, my gosh, they’re beautiful!” she exclaims, lifting out the first piece, an ornately carved piece of white ash. Appropriately enough, it’s the Queen. “Are these hand-carved?”
“Yes, each chess piece is done by hand,” I tell her, letting her explore each piece. “The board’s walnut and beech, and the pieces are ash and black oak. I thought about getting a stone board, but I decided a folding board so that you can store it or take it with us wherever we go would be more appropriate.”
It’s an important gift for me, both in the actual chessboard and in the admission that I want to go wherever this woman is. It’s sort of a connection, from the fond memories I’ve had with my father, and now after a few games with Allie, it’s something I want to share with her, too.
I’m sure my father is looking down on me, approving of the continuation of our tradition. Allie caresses each piece before closing the case and looking up at me through those beautiful mile-long lashes of hers.
“Thank you, Dominick. I know this means a lot to you. I want you to know it means a lot to me too.” Her lips lift in a soft little smile and she moves closer to me, tilting her chin up. “Thank you.”
She leans in and kisses me, but almost instantly, the passion from our earlier greeting reignites anew.
Dinner forgotten, she crawls into my lap, straddling me, her pussy hot against my cock. I grab her hips, pulling her fiercely against me so she feels how hard she makes me, how even just a few touches of her lips against mine leave me iron-hard and throbbing for her.
She whimpers, grinding against me. “Dom . . . be dirty,” she begs. “Show me.”
“Fuck, Allie,” I growl, letting her past my outer shell to the deep, feral, filthy part of me. “I need to be inside you.”
I climb to my feet, pulling her up with me before hoisting her in my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist as I stride down the hallway to her bedroom. I lay her gently down, stripping her clothes off and placing a pillow under her head. I like her like this, nude and in the nest of blankets and pillows on her bed, waiting for me to fill her, to fuck her, to make her mine.
She stretches artistically, showing off for me before reaching out with a soft hand. “You have on too many clothes. Take them off.” Her grin is pure wickedness, a dare if ever I saw one.
“Then you show me something too. Touch yourself. Let me watch you.”
She blushes, and I think for one second that she might refuse, but then the dirty girl I know she has inside wins over. She’s pretty in pink, she’s dirty in denim, and she’s naughty in nude . . . and watching her is like a fantasy come to life.