I try to curl up to protect myself, but he growls in my ear, “Keep your legs open or I will bend you over this desk and strap you with my belt. Then you’ll really have something to fucking cry about.”
I shuffle my feet open again, taking deep breaths.
“I’m still waiting for you to answer my question.”
What was it? Oh, yes, that he expects more from me. “Yes, daddy.”
That seems to assuage him because his fingers find my clit and he’s gentle once more. He softly kisses my throat. “Are you ever going to please everyone?”
“No.”
“Are you going to please me?”
“I hope so.” I’m going to try my hardest.
“No.” He spanks my pussy again. I gasp through the pain, but I don’t move. He grips my hair and angles my ear up to his lips, and snarls, “I said, are you going to please me? Just as you are. Just like this.”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Do you believe that you can?” He spanks my pussy again, and I jump in his arms. “I need to feel that you mean it.”
I look up into his ferocious blue gaze. “I do believe it, daddy.”
He bites down on my earlobe and then sucks on it. “I believe it, too. Good girl.”
My eyes close as he sinks a finger into my pussy, and then goes back to working my clit, as sweet as can be now, his hand stroking my hair and his lips against my throat. A tight bead of pleasure grows through the heat and pain, and when I come, he wraps his arm around my waist so he can feel my climax with his body, and buries his face against my throat.
“Beautiful,” he says raggedly. Mr. Blomqvist unties my hands, shoves my underwear into his pocket and helps me off his desk and into his arms. He holds me tightly, cradling me with his whole body.
“I’m proud of you for telling her. And then for telling me.”
I bury my face against his chest and wrap my arms around him, eyes closed. The realization dawns on me. I actually did it. A hard, scary thing, and I didn’t fall apart or let her out of her box. I smile up at him, suddenly feeling high. On life. On achievement. On him. “Yeah. I did it.”
We’ve still got half an hour together, so we sit quietly together on the sofa. I love these moments together, warm and happy in his arms. He plays with my hair, watching me without saying anything. I showed him a little more of what a basket case I am and he still hasn’t freaked out. His hands on me are only loving.
“You know who you remind me of?” I say, looking up at him. He raises an eyebrow questioningly. “The Laconians of Ancient Greece.”
His mouth twitches. “A whole people?”
“Yes.” I lace my fingers through his, playing with them and tracing his tattoos. “They were a very taciturn people. After Phillip of Macedon conquered lots of Greece, he sent a message to Laconia and asked if he should come as friend or foe. They replied, Neither. That pissed him off a whole load, and so he sent them an angry letter. You are advised to submit without further delay, for if I bring my army into your land, I will destroy your farms, slay your people, and raze your city. Do you know what they replied?”
He raises his eyebrow again.
“They said, If.”
He grins at me, but still doesn’t say anything.
“Laconic, that’s you.”
“Is that fancy talk for grumpy and shy?”
“Shy? You?” He’s surely the least shy person I’ve ever met.
“How can you tell if a Swedish man likes you?”
I giggle and twist my fingers through his. “How?”
“He’s looking at your shoes and not his own.”
“Swedish men? Really? Aren’t you all supposed to be incredibly sexually liberated or something?”
“The women are. The men dress nicely and hope that a pretty girl approaches us.” He kisses me gently. “Like you did. Asking to be one of my bonsai.”
I bury my face in his chest, my face burning with embarrassment. “I still can’t believe I said that to you.”
“I’m so glad you did.” He reaches an arm behind the sofa, retrieves a carry bag and sets it on my lap. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
I lift my head and look up at him in surprise. It’s not actually my birthday until tomorrow, and I’ve been trying my best to ignore it. “How did you know?”
“Your father texted me the other day. He said you don’t want to celebrate this year but that I might like to know. He was right. I did want to know. Why didn’t you tell me, käraste?”
I shrug awkwardly. “Birthdays are…difficult.”
My last birthday was on the ward. I was made to eat birthday cake. The nurses actually stand over you while you eat and all the toilet doors are locked for half an hour afterward so you don’t go and throw anything up. Happy birthday to me.