“Nothing, why?” She looks up and meets my intense gaze, and her cheeks slowly turn pink.
I trace my forefinger over her lower lip. “I thought I could show you my other bonsai plants. At my house.” It’s outside our routine. Outside anything we’ve ever done together before.
She smiles shyly. “Oh, your bonsai plants. Yes, I would love to see them.”
I kiss her hungrily and pull her even more tightly against me in my lap. Yes, you sweet girl. You know exactly what I’m talking about and that’s why you’re blushing. You want your daddy to fuck you, don’t you?
Her hand slides down over my chest, and I cover it with my own, pressing it tightly against my heart. “If you’re sure,” I say, watching her closely. “Like I said, there’s no hurry.”
She nods, still smiling. “I’m sure, daddy. I’m on the pill, by the way. I’ve been on it for years, because of cramps.”
Condoms are fine, but thinking about rawing Lacey makes my cock spasm in my pants. Keeping my face carefully blank, I say, “I’m clean, but I can use a condom if you prefer.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to.”
My eyes rake her, from her waist to her pretty little tits to her throat to her beautiful face, vividly imagining what it will be like when I have her spread beneath me with her pussy wrapped tight around my cock.
All mine.
On Friday we leave the office together at six and head down to my car. She hums along to the radio as I drive, her hand reaching over now and again to brush against my thigh. She seems relaxed and happy, and I take her hand and give it a squeeze as we sit at the traffic lights. It’s a beautiful evening, warm and sunny, and for once I don’t even mind that the roads are busy.
When we get to my house, I pull into the garage and take her inside.
We hold hands as I take her through the rooms. I’m proud of the home I’ve managed to make for myself in the years I’ve lived in Britain. I’ve furnished the rooms carefully, and filled them with books and pictures that make me happy every time I look at them. Everything is just how I want it, and the house has a sense of permanence to it because I wanted it to feel permanent. When I decide something’s right, I commit to it.
“This room is my favorite,” she says, standing in the middle of the living room and gazing around. “It’s so cozy with the sofas and the bookshelves. I would love to read in here on a rainy day when the fire’s going.”
I stroke my knuckles across her cheek. “I would love that, too.”
Min älskling. My darling. My love. The feeling fills me from the center of my being right to the tips of my fingers and toes.
Lacey gazes back at me, the softest of expressions in her eyes. I smile at her, wondering how we got here, but so grateful that we have. “It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?”
“If you hadn’t fired your last assistant. If I hadn’t nearly fallen down the stairs.”
“I still feel terrible that I shouted at you.”
Lacey shrugs one shoulder, still smiling. “Maybe if you hadn’t, I would never have shown you my affirmations and confessed that I wanted you so badly.”
I step closer, brushing my lips over hers and taking her in my arms. She rises on her tiptoes to meet me, her fingers twining through my hair. Fire licks up my body as I hold her against me, and I deepen the kiss, my lips parting hers and my tongue sliding into her mouth.
Lacey reaches for my tie and unloops the silk, still kissing me. It slides to the ground, and then I feel her fingers undoing the buttons of my shirt one by one.
I press kisses to her cheeks, her throat, as her palms stroke my chest. “Can I put you into subspace, or would you like to try vanilla for your first time?”
Lacey wraps her arms around my neck, and whispers in my ear, “I want you to do what you do best, daddy.”
I was hoping she’d say that. I tell her to get on her knees in the middle of the living room floor, and she does. With red lips and flushed cheeks, she looks up at me while I pull off my shirt and fist it in my hands, breathing a little faster now.
“Perfect. You just stay there, käraste.”
From there she can see the bonsai plants in the adjoining greenhouse. I move about the house, putting my things away and opening the windows to let the breeze in, and enjoying the knowledge that she’s there. Waiting for me.
Ten minutes later, I retrieve something from the bedroom and go back into the living room and sit on the sofa, just watching her. I’m behind her to the left, but she doesn’t turn to look at me. Not even when I run a chain through my hand so that it clinks softly.