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“Yeah, go and tattle on me to your boyfriend, Ms. Atkins.”
I twist my body around, taking the steps back to his desk. “Grow the fuck up, Harry, and act like the adult your age says you are.”
I shut the door to the office in a calm manner, and Velma isn’t at her desk.
I won’t get Luca involved because, if Harry can’t be the fucking adult, I will.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
“Goddamnit, Heaven, you can’t look that good when I’m about to meet your parents for the first time.”
Anisten has had her face buried in a book for the entire five-hour drive from Chicago to Akron. Her glasses give her the naughty librarian look, and I want to pull over and watch her swallow my cock and take my cum with them on. I imagine her reading a dirty book with a lot of sex, instead of the truth—Cataloging Discovery Law.
“You can’t say that in front of my father. They’re unhappy we’re staying in a hotel this weekend, as it is.”
When Anisten told me we’d have to sleep in different rooms, my mind was made up, and no sort of finagling on her part would let me allow us to sleep apart. We’ve not been apart since she gave me her submission, and I gave her an Anisten-approved collar, as a sign she belongs to me. It’s a simple white-gold necklace, but I know what it means. And when we play at the club, she wears the choker with an L.
“Sorry, Heaven. I can’t go a night without you. You agreed to it.”
Our contract has a clause that states we’d share a bed each night, but she tried to find a technicality to dispute it, but I’m not budging. “Anyway, how the hell am I going to tie you up to your twin-sized childhood bed and fuck you? It’s not like you’re quiet.”
Her face turns a beautiful crimson red, and if she’s not squirming in her seat, she’s thinking about me eating her sweet cunt.
“Again, not something you need to mention to my dad, Luc.”
“Baby girl, just for shits and giggles I’ll introduce myself as Luciano De Santos, telling him he raised a beautiful daughter who lets me tie her up at night. Or I could say how I watch you orgasm from afar with a vibrator I control.”
She sets down her book, and now I have her attention. “You’re such an asshole, Luca,” she teases. I should renegotiate our contract, adding that swearing will bring her punishments.
“I can still put you over my knee, you know.” This time I’m not teasing. I would not punish her for anything outside the bedroom, except for matters of safety. Still, even when she’s a brat, she pushes it because my spankings are like rewards.
“I’d like to see you try.” And in my peripheral, she winks my way, and I adjust my hard-on because I want her too much.
The GPS maneuvers us off the freeway and into a residential area. “So, this is where my girl grew up?” I ask.
We enter a neighborhood with mid-century modern homes, middle of the middle class. I know her dad is a preacher and her mom a nurse.
“And will they like me?” With my question, she bites her lip. “Ah, you wound me, Heaven.”
I’m unrelenting, want things my way, and because I have the means to make it happen, I come across as arrogant and selfish. I.e.: staying in a hotel, instead of separate beds at Anisten’s childhood home.
“Come on now, you know yourself too well. You’ll make whatever imprint on them you want to make, but don’t think you can go in there and wave your money around and it’ll impress them because it won’t.”
I let out a deep chuckle. I have thick skin, and I rarely care what others think of me, but Anisten and those she loves are a different matter.
“I can behave, if that’s what you’re suggesting, Heaven.”
Her head turns to mine when I pull into the driveway of a single-level home that looks as if it was crafted by Frank Lloyd Wright himself.
“This is a beautiful house.” It’s been maintained impeccably with attention given to the era of the home. It’s modernized without taking away from the character.
“Yeah, I’ve always loved it, too. I have fond memories. But mainly because my parents always put us first.”
She’s out of the car before I can open the door, something I do when I drive. A blonde woman, almost a foot shorter than Anisten with a striking resemblance to her, sprints from the front porch and meets my girl halfway.
I watch the joy on her face with who I know is her mom from peering at the many family photos Anisten has around her home. The door opens again and a raven-haired woman, as short as Anisten’s mom, runs full force at both of them. This is Bristol, who looks nothing like Anisten.
A tall and slender man with black hair riddled with patches of gray strolls out of the house, passing by the women and kissing Anisten’s head. “They’ll be like this for a while, I’ve learned it’s better to say my hellos after their reunion.” He’s as tall as I am. This explains where Anisten gets her height. He extends his hand to me. “Bryan Atkins, nice to meet the only man my daughter has ever brought home.”
