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Six years later...
Mytwo-year-olddaughter,Amelia, sighs in her sleep.
I pet her silken hair, the same shade of blonde as her mother’s golden mane.
“Goodnight, sweet pea,” I whisper. “Mommy and I will see you in the morning.”
I kiss her forehead and stroke her chubby cheek. Turning away from Amelia’s crib, I spot my assistant in the doorway, gazing at me with the all too familiar expression of aww.
“Stop that,” I say.
Jen chuckles, moving aside so I can step into the hall.
“I can’t help it,” she says. “Watching you dote on that darling girl gets me every time.”
I glance back into Amelia’s room. For a long time after Liam’s death, I wasn’t sure if I had it in me to become a father for the second time. Not that I’d had a chance to be a father to Liam until it was too late. I knew Grace wanted a child. I never would have asked her to marry me if I didn’t think I could give her the life she deserved. But the fear that I would fuck up again was a constant presence in my mind.
Finding out that Grace was pregnant forced me to do a lot of soul searching. I’m pleased to say that as soon as Amelia came into the world, all of my doubt dissolved, replaced by an unwavering flow of unconditional love.
There’s no question that I’m going to get it right this time. I have to. It’s as simple as that.
“Is Grace still in the shower?” I ask.
“I believe so,” Jen says.
My wife and I have plans to attend Matthew’s play party tonight. Between Amelia and our demanding work schedules, we haven’t had the opportunity to assume our roles as Sir and little one in weeks.
I thank Jen for offering to watch Amelia for us tonight and head into the main bedroom to check on my wife. The shower in our bathroom is essentially a separate stone-and-tile chamber attached to the ensuite. I can stand at the entrance without getting sprayed, and watch as my little one rinses the suds from her body—and what a body it is. I drink in her long, lean frame, her toned dancer’s legs. I didn’t think it was possible, but she’s in even better shape now than she was when we first met.
After graduating from the Jost Academy of Performing Arts, Grace pliéd her way into a principal position in the New York City ballet, her dream job since she was child. But life apparently saw fit to make all her dreams come true at once, because less than a year later, we learned she was pregnant. At first, Grace was worried that the pregnancy would spell the end of her ballet career. However, with time and patience and the help of a physical therapist, she returned to the company an even stronger dancer, more in tune with her body’s abilities.
Recently, she’s taken on the immense task of curating and starring in a program that will feature over a dozen performance pieces, ranging from classical ballet to modern routines combining ballet with hip-hop and tap. It’s a staggering amount of work, but she loves it, and I love the sense of confidence all that responsibility instils in her.
She glances up and catches me staring, then smiles. “Is Amelia asleep?”
I nod. “Out like a light.”
She squirts a handful of shaving cream into her palm and spreads it between her legs. I instructed her to shave her pussy in preparation for tonight’s scene. Heat rolls through me as I watch my wife run the razer over her intimate parts, getting them ready for me.
While Grace is busy getting dressed, I pack a bag with my sweatpants and a few of our favorite floggers.
The drive to Matthew’s apartment is short and taut with anticipation. I can sense Grace’s excitement in the way she squeezes my hand as we approach the building.
“Ready, little one?” I ask.
“Yes, Sir.” She beams. My little one has been looking forward to this party all week, eager for the chance to hand over control, if only for a few hours.
I hook two fingers into her collar and press a possessive kiss to her lips. Looking back, it’s crazy to think there was a time when I didn’t kiss my submissive. But seeing my collar around Grace’s neck for the first time, all those years ago, lit a fire inside me. A relentless need to claim some small part of her—and her pouty pink mouth was just begging to be tasted.
We pull up to the entrance of Matthew’s building. I hand the valet my keys and rest my hand on Grace’s lower back as we enter the lobby and take the elevator up to the penthouse.
A young male submissive named Ari welcomes us to the party as soon as we step off the elevator. Grace’s short backless dress, paired with her long, blonde braid, draws stares from Doms and subs alike. We make our rounds, saying hello to old friends and seeing what everyone is up to.
Matthew eventually finds us in the living room.
“Glad you could make it,” he says. “It’s always lovely to see your little one.”
Grace bows her head respectfully.
