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Rainer had found that using Om Baby to chat to him about her innermost fears was a powerful tool for Esme. He knew one thing for certain: she’d been through something terrible when she was younger, and she found it almost impossible to talk about it. At least when she was being Om Baby, that part of her was a little more accessible.
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” he asked the stuffie.
He’d been slowly building up to this question. Over the past couple days, he’d asked Esme about other, less scary fears. Things like Om Baby’s supposed fear of the dark, and of “big cats” (which actually was just a fear of regular house cats). Esme’s replies had been fairly light-hearted, but he was sure she knew that they were getting ready to tackle something big together.
“I could make a fool of myself. Or worse.” She paused for a moment. “Something terrible could happen. Something that I could have averted. And everyone could see. And they’d know that I’m too scared to ever do anything.”
“How would you feel if that happened?”
Esme put her foot down on the ground, and Rainer walked up to her, letting his palms rest on her shoulder blades. He gently rubbed her smooth skin, trying to beam warmth and calm into her.
“I’d feel crushed,” she said, moaning quietly with pleasure.”
“Do you think that you might be able to put on a little show, just for me?”
“A show?” She sounded confused.
“Some Littles like to put on shows. It could be anything. Singing. Painting. Acting. Anything. I’d love to watch you.”
“Sounds scary.”
Rainer had never met anyone who was such a perfect mixture of adorable and sexy before. Her body was like something out of a dream. Athletic, but curvaceous. Lithe, but soft. The swoop of her breasts and the deep curve of her hips was so intoxicating, it felt like he was walking around with a semi basically all the time he was with her. When she was dressed for yoga, he could barely contain himself. Her tight-fitting clothes left almost nothing to her imagination.
And then there was her face.
Oh… her face.
Such big, expressive, emerald-green eyes. Pouty, dark pink lips, like over-sized cherries. That cute little chin, with that sexy dimple in its center. The way that her glossy, black hair fell across her face sometimes. The way she tucked it behind her ears. Even her fucking ears were perfect. Her left was piercing free, but her right was studded with silver hoops; two in the lobe, one in the tragus and a slim one in her helix, too. She was everything he’d ever wanted and more.
“It might be scary,” he admitted. “But fear is good. Means that you’re pushing yourself. You won’t be in your comfort zone anymore. And the only way to grow is to get right out of your comfort zone.”
She sighed. “I think I know what kind of show to do.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “It’s something I used to do a lot when I was a kid. Before I got into yoga. I hope I can still pull it off for you. Hope I can still impress!”
“I’m gonna be impressed with anything. For me, the impressive thing is that you’re trying it. You’ve already done the hard part by committing.”
He could see that she was nervous, so he planted a kiss on her forehead. He loved the smell of her skin. He’d noticed, ever since going through the list of things she loved, that she had the sweet smell of sandalwood and cinnamon. Obviously, it was the scent she chose, but it was delicious, and the temptation to gently bite her tender flesh was strong whenever he was near.
“You smell good enough to eat, Little one,” he growled into her ear, feeling lusty chemicals flood his brain.
“Don’t eat me just yet, Daddy,” she replied. “Otherwise I won’t be able to do my show.”
Somehow, he managed to pull back. “Well, alright then. I’ll save you for later.”
Why had she agreed to do this? Of all the dumb things, she had to put herself into exactly the kind of situation that she’d been trying to avoid for her entire adult life.
The trouble was, she trusted him.
She really trusted him.
There was something magic about Rainer. It was the magic of reliability. The magic of being dependable.
If he said he was gonna do something, he did it. Always.
If he said that he was going totrycooking a meal that he’d never cooked before, and that it might not turn out great, that’s exactly what would happen. Like when he made pancakes for breakfast this morning, and they’d been a little less fluffy than would have been ideal.
