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I stare at him, my mouth falling open. I don’t even seem to care that I’m now nearly naked, because his words are far sexier than any amount of disrobing could match.
“But I won’t take you like this. Not when you’re drunk. Your virginity deserves something a little more.”
“I never said I was a virgin.”
“You said you’d never been kissed.”
“People can have sex and not kiss you know.” I blurt out a little put out that he’s assuming I’m a virgin.
“Milly.” He stares me down. “You have two seconds to answer yes or no or I’m turning you over my knee and spanking the truth out of you. Are you a virgin?”
I consider the options. The spanking more tempting than I would have thought but there’s something in his eyes, that flicker of some ancient pain that makes me rein in my brat and answer.
“Yes. I am.”
“Thank fucking God.” He mummers and the way he says it makes me insides twist and tangle.
I breathe out through my nose, then spread my legs for him to take the rest of my clothes. He’s right, of course, and it was stupid to play coy like maybe I wasn’t an unpopped little cherry.
I guess I just never wanted something meaningless.
He removes my tights, then as he reaches out for my panties I see the look in his eyes. Hunger. I’m suddenly aware that my panties are a drenched piece of evidence that this man has me diving into the warm pool of lust I’ve just discovered.
Is that bad? Is he going to shrink back from touching them and tell me to finish my bath alone?
Because as much as I might be making a deal of it, I’m kind of liking the way he’s taking care of me right now. The way he’s denying himself despite making myself available.
I gulp, waiting, then watch as strips my stockings first. Then he reaches forward and tugs the hem of my panties down, over my thighs, down to my feet. I step out of them, then watch in surprise as he brings them to his nose, takes a long deep breath, then whispers, “Mine,” before stuffing them into the front pocket of his dark suit coat.
He tests the bathwater, adding bubble bath that’s sitting on the edge along with the other little soaps and such.
He helps me step in, his hands strong and warm, and I hear him groan. His touch sends me into orbit and I’m sure a man like him has seen plenty of real women before.
I’ve never cared much about my body. Like, I don’t loathe myself, but I’ve always been thin, tiny, without womanly curves and an inherent sexiness.
It was hard growing up, being the skinny kid. I know body positivity is sort of focused on the other end of the spectrum, but being teased is being teased and these days, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with calling another female skinny bitch. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
“Holy fuck, baby.” His eyes roam over my body and for the first time in my core I feel desired. That warmth between my legs starts to flow as his eyes darken, looking at my chest as he makes this animal sort of snarling growl.
Instinctively, I cross my arms to cover myself, but his hands answer as fast, pulling them down.
“Don’t fucking do that.” He shakes his head. “So fucking beautiful. I’m not going to touch you baby, not like this, not while your head isn’t clear, but I will tell you, there’s a high probability that I am going to double over and unload in my pants just looking at you. Fuck.”
Then I step in, and he bathes me gently, soothing every aching limb, making me feel a little more…human again. Halfway through, there’s a knock on the door, and he answers it to room service. The smell of coffee and food should make me queasy again, but it doesn’t. I’m so relaxed here in the bath, with him taking care of me, that I just lean back and luxuriate in the smell and the warmth. Then he returns, his torso is bare and I think I’m going to pass out.
He’s like I imagined only in 3-D Technicolor. He’s got the soft cut of muscle but he’s full and bulky. Husky. His chest is decorated with warm brown hair as I follow the scars from his neck to where they trail down and disappear under his suit pants.
“Daddy,” I squeak out, sort of in jest, but I see the flames that practically shoot right out of his eyes at me. “Papa? Father? Dada?” I kid, but he doesn’t laugh.
“You’ve let that name slip twice tonight, my starling. Seems you need something from me and I’m more than happy to give it to you.”
“Oh yeah? A second ago you said we weren’t going to—”
