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I don’t pause or fuck her against my walls like I want to. Instead, I bring her inside, place her atop my granite countertop, and step back. “I made waffles earlier and left them warming, but if you want something else, just say the word.” My voice is gruff, a literal expression of how wound tight I am.
Feet dangling over the edge, she looks at me with wide eyes. “Waffles sound good.” London licks her bottom lip, and I follow the move with hunger. With a throbbing cock.
“How many do you want?”
“How many are left?”
Parting her thighs, I step between them and her heat sears me through layers of clothing. It’s taking every last ounce of strength to not push her shirt up and exposed her panty-covered cunt. “As many as you desire.”
“Two will do for now.” Her tone is breathy, and I also don’t miss the way her chest expands with each deep inhale.
“Okay.” Leaning forward, I nip her chin. “Coffee or juice?”
“Orange juice now and Starbucks later?”
“Absolutely.” Taking a step back, I run my fingers down her thigh and to her knees. “I’m going to get your plate and step back into my office for a few minutes. You have two hours to eat, shower, and do whatever it is women do to get ready.”
“But I have no—”
I quiet her with a finger over her lips. “Already taken care of. Everything you need is in a bag on my dresser. Trust me.”
“Is the blindfold really necessary?” she asks from beside me, mouth in a pout while I drive to our destination. It’s been like this for the past twenty minutes, and I find myself enjoying her petulant act.
Because it is one. Showing just the barest hint of a smile when looking ahead.
Or when I answer with a playful grunt.
Something that a few weeks back would’ve annoyed me, I now find entertaining. The reactions she pulls from me are different, possessive, and full of contentment.
A balance I didn’t have before.
“We have fifteen hours left in this trip,” I say just to fuck with her and almost laugh when her head snaps in my direction. “Catch a nap, Twirl. It’s going to be a while.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“And if I am?”
“The scary part is that I’d still want to go.” There’s so much heaviness in those words. Truth.
There’s something between her and I that while I still don’t understand completely, I can’t deny, and neither can she. We fit. Work in a way that brings out the best in each other.
She brings equilibrium, while I give her confidence.
She calms me where I give her freedom.
I protect and offer a chance to reclaim her life.
She gives me her. A chance at an honest love.
“Why is it scary?” I ask, pulling into the parking space designated for special clientele. The place is somewhat empty now, only a few spots in use as people leave to beat traffic. Putting my Maserati in park, I take her small hand in mine and intertwine our fingers. “Do I scare you?”
At my words, the slight tightness around her mouth loosens. “Not at all. Why would you even think that?”
“Curiosity.” Turning her face to mine, I slip the blindfold off and then wrap my hand at the nape of her neck. I bring her face closer to mine. “Because even at my worst, London, I will never hurt you. The world could burn to the ground and it wouldn’t faze me, yet you—you I would kill for. Trust me.”
She licks her lips, eyes on mine. “You say that a lot…trust me…and the thing is that a large part of me already does. More and more every day.”
“Good.” A rough exhale leaves me at her words, but there is one thing I need to make clear. “The only time I will ever break you is with my cock, and I’ll make sure you love every single second. That you beg me for more.”
