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“Good girl,” he said as he kissed the side of my head.
Which sent a shiver up my spine as I considered what might happen if I had said some smart-alec remark and kept scrolling, just to get a reaction. Maybe not this time, but perhaps sometime soon.
Good girls get treats, so what do naughty girls get?
Now, we’re at the The Regent, a super high-end restaurant in Deerfield, one town east of Cherry Falls, and I can’t help but think everyone is staring at us.
There are people here I recognize. Thomas Miller from the grocery store in town, for instance, who looks like Santa Claus. He’s eating with his wife, Clementine, and another guy that looks familiar who is always running with his dog in town, but they don’t give me a second glance. I’m sure I don’t even look like myself, all dressed like I’m walking the red carpet at the Academy Awards or Emmy’s or something. But Mason is oblivious to anyone but me it seems. His eyes have barely left me since I came down the stairs at the house in the red dress he’d bought for me over a month ago and kept, waiting for an opportunity to give it to me.
Mason ordered champagne, and to my surprise, the server brought it without batting a lash.
Since Friday, I’ve felt like I’m floating in a dream, and maybe it’s the champagne doing it tonight, but everything has this warm glow around it.
I know it’s fast, but I’m in love with Mason already, and as I look at him in his dark suit, white shirt and red tie to match my dress, my belly flutters and the memory of all the things we’ve done makes my cheeks flush hot.
That first night, it was by the pool. Then, we went inside and we had some fun on the kitchen counter. Then, it was off to his wonderful master bath where he bathed me then took me to bed where I don’t think we slept more than an hour. The sun rose and I finally lost consciousness for a few hours, then woke to Mason’s face between my legs and we were off to the races again.
The lust is amazing, but I also feel I can just be myself with him. Sometimes, like when I was grabbing the cereal from the pantry this morning, trying to bring him breakfast in bed, he snuck up behind me and started doing that thing on my neck. Licking, kissing and biting until I practically went boneless trying to hang onto the pantry shelves.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, he spun me around, both of us naked, and lifted me up, mounting me on his erection and fucking me right there in the pantry. By the time we were done, boxes of pancake mix, a big tin of crackers, the Fruity Pebbles, a bottle of syrup and three boxes of bow tie pasta were all over the floor.
When we were done coming and panting, we were laughing. I told him the concoction on the floor would probably taste as good as anything he tried to cook. Instead of getting mad, he laughed with me, then handed me a broom while he handled the dustpan.
Everything is just too good to be true.
There’s a man in a tuxedo playing the piano and every table has a flickering candle with a few white roses in a vase.
Every table except ours.
When we walked in, there was one table in the back corner with a wall of vases filled with white orchids and lilies, and other flowers I’m not sure of the names. It created this sort of private floral screen that mostly hides us from the view of the open restaurant and fills the air with the most wonderful floral aroma.
This morning I insisted on going to the house so I could get my car and check and make sure everything was okay. I grabbed a few items of clothing, even though it turns out Mason has been collecting things for me for months already.
I had a whole closet full of things to choose from in his master bedroom, which at first made me a little uneasy. Stalker much? But, after he showed me the clothes, then the bathroom, where he had the most luxurious shampoos and bath items, toothbrush, three kinds of toothpaste, floss, a blow dryer, a selection of hairbrushes…he’d thought of everything plus ten times as much as I would ever need, so I decided to just ride the wave.
He even had a closet full of ten kinds of feminine products ready and waiting, saying he didn’t know yet which kind I preferred, so he wanted to be sure I had a selection.
Yeah, could be crazy or perfect.
I went with perfect.
“Dessert?” The waiter brings over a silver tray filled with the most decadent tarts, slices of cake, tiramisu…but I feel the way my dress is tugging over my tummy already, and decide to give him a tight smile, shaking my head.
