Locked Down with Mr. Right

“Me too! I mean, I’m discreet too. They won’t hear it for me, no sir. Not a peep, a pop or a chirp.”

“That’s very reassuring,” Tobias said, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Hungry?” he asked, transitioning back into the sexy protector role he had taken on.

“Yeah, actually. I didn’t really have time for breakfast.”

I also hadn’t eaten a heck of a lot the day before either. I didn’t know exactly what the root cause might be. Physical or neurological or whatever but I did know that it was getting to be a problem. How Tobias knew this was anyone’s guess. Maybe he had just heard my tummy gurgling.

“Come,” he said, heading down an ornate hall, hands casually in his pockets.

It was like something from one of those British costume dramas. The high walls of the dining room even had romance with oil paintings that looked like the real deal. Either that, or they were really good copies. If I were forced to guess which, I would guess the latter, not because buying originals for bragging rights. It was just the sort of thing people would expect him to do.

It felt odd sitting alone at the massive feast table. Actually, six long tables set end to end and covered with a bright red linen cloth. I felt like I was the last person on Earth playing princess in an abandoned manor home.

The stone floor was smooth and cold under my bare feet. It felt amazing. I shuffled them slightly, feeling them slide easily. I wanted to see if it would be any easier to moonwalk but restrained myself. Especially because this was the same moment in which Tobias reappeared carrying a lidded silver platter, looking more like a servant on casual Friday than master of the house. I loved a man who could cook.

Waiting a moment to make sure he hadn’t just gussied up take-out, I settled into the scrumptious food he had created from base ingredients. It was transcendental. My eyes actually rolled back into my head at the first taste.

“Good?” Tobias asked.

I nodded, past the point of rallying the power of speech and wiping away tears of unbridled joy.

“I wasn’t sure if you ate meat, so I hedged with fish.”

“Good call,” I said, pulling myself together, mostly.

It was actually. Fish was the only meat I would eat after years of semi-vegetarianism and trying to figure it all out. The decision was finally made when I realized that the vegetarian cookbooks I was trying to use, despite my cooking skills being the culinary equivalent of a black thumb in gardening, included recipes for fish.

A lesser factor, but still a consideration, was the fact that the main concern in terms of animal rights section of vegetarianism tended to be land animals. Particularly those which are farmed. Fish farms, while they did technically exist, were a recent invention, and seemed like a contradiction in terms.

We were starting dessert, hand whipped chocolate mousse with whipped cream, when it happened. A glob of sweet chocolate goodness had adhered itself to the corner of my mouth.

Before I could even think to do anything else, Tobias was wiping it away with his thumb. It was like a spark. The fire inside me jumped to an inferno. Before he could pull his thumb away, both it and the chocolate were in my warm little mouth. I grabbed his wrist and went to town on his thumb, showing him exactly what I wanted to do with his cock.

I could hear the zip as Tobias lowered his fly with his free hand. Releasing his thumb, I dropped to my knees so hard it almost hurt and replaced his thumb with his rock-hard cock. I sucked it like his cum tasted like pumpkin spice, battering my throat in the process. I didn’t care. I loved it.

I was also quite impressed by how big his cock was. It was actually a struggle to get the whole thing into my mouth. It couldn’t have been too comfortable keeping all that in his pants. I felt happy and proud to be able to give him relief. It wasn’t until later that I realized that it must have been me who had made him hard.

His sweet cum flooded my mouth. I swallowed it all down, wiping any extra from my lips and sucking my fingers clean. His hand touched my shoulders, bare in the flapper dress I was still wearing. The neo-Buchanan thing was basically my costume for the show. It was like his fingers were electric, sending a charge through me, stoking my libido in ways I had forgotten were possible.

Taking me into his strong arms, one around my back, one under my ass, he sat me down on the edge of the table, kissing me passionately. Our tongues not competing or fighting for dominance, rather moving in perfect sync, giving as good as they got. I could feel my pussy getting even wetter.