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Still chuckling, Patrick set her down, and she leaned down to gingerly pick up the plug by its base, still shiny with lube.
“I’ll wipe up the floor,” he told her already heading to the kitchen, probably to get paper towels or something. “Go ahead and take it to the bathroom to get it cleaned off and then come meet me in the bedroom.”
Talk about spoiling the mood. On the other hand, she had a good enough sense of humor that she knew she would find this hysterical later. Probably when she was telling the others about it. BDSM mishaps were hilarious, as long as they weren’t painful. Actually, some of those could be kind of funny too, eventually. As long as no one was seriously injured.
“Welcome to reality,” she said to herself in the mirror as she got the toy cleaner he kept in the cabinet. Sex just wasn’t always sexy. On the other hand, she’d much rather have a guy she could laugh with about it, rather than one who always took things too seriously. Or was disgusted by something like a plug unintentionally falling onto his neat-freak floor. Much better to have a man like Patrick who would laugh about it and then still want to meet her in the bedroom.
Now if only she could convince her body that she didn’t need to be embarrassed. Her cheeks were still bright red.
“Flames... flames on the side of my face,” she said, quoting Mrs. White from Clue.
“Are you talking to yourself in there?” Patrick called. She could tell from the direction of his voice that he was already in his bedroom.
“Maybe,” she yelled back, quickly rinsing the bubbly cleaner from the plug and setting it upright on its base on the side of the sink so it could dry.
A quick wash of her hands, and then she was hurrying into his bedroom. What she saw in there stopped her dead in her tracks.
Candles were everywhere, covering every surface. Something that could have been incredibly dangerous if Patrick wasn’t so OCD about keeping everything clean. Although, she did notice with a distant part of her mind, all of the candles were in holders with walls high enough that the flames were completely contained. The result was a soft, flickering glow dusting the room in a hazy, dreamy light. Warm. Romantic.
In the middle of the bed, with the covers all pulled down to the foot, was Patrick. Lounging, for want of a better word, with both of his hands propped behind his head. It should have look contrived, or even silly, but he just looked relaxed and seriously sexy. As he looked at her, his cock jerked and slowly started to fill. Heat and lust rushed through her, not just because of how hot he was all naked and lickable, but also from seeing his very visceral reaction to her presence. What woman wouldn’t get off on knowing the very sight of her made a man like Patrick hard?
“Strip, Pixie. Slowly, so I can enjoy it.” The heated anticipation in his voice made fuzzy tendrils curl inside of her stomach, like something was stroking her insides.
Damn but she liked a bossy man who knew what he wanted.
Despite the romantic atmosphere he’d created, there was no doubt Patrick was a kinky, authoritative Dom who would put her over his knee given the slightest provocation. Which, of course, was what made her own knees feel so weak.
Curving her lips into a smile, she pressed her hands against her thighs and slowly ran them up her body. Cupping her breasts, she slid her palms to the center of her chest and undid the first button on her shirt. Patrick’s eyes were glued to her fingers, his cock jerking slightly in obvious enjoyment of her seductive movements.
“You know,” she said conversationally as she slid her fingers into her shirt for just a moment before moving on to the next button. “I’d just gotten around to accepting waiting until you were ready for sex.”
“It’s traditional to wait for the third date,” he said, in a low, husky voice, still watching her fingers as she played with the edges of her shirt.
The movement stilled as she processed what he’d just said.
“This counts as a date?”
“Well, our third night together.”
“Fourth.”
“Third night that you’re in my bed.” There was no wavering, no hesitation, just satisfaction. Patrick apparently had his own way of counting, and that was all that mattered.
She resisted rolling her eyes as she resumed unbuttoning her shirt. The front was starting to gape so the lacy black bra was showcased nicely against her pale skin and the pearly grey of her shirt.
“Well if I’d known, I would have insisted we sleep here Sunday night,” she teased, shrugging out of the shirt and letting it slide down her arms till it dropped to the floor. Reaching up behind her, she thrust her breasts out as she undid the clasp on her bra, making sure the fabric stayed in place once the clasp snapped open.
Moving her arms in front of her, she crossed them over her chest, so she was hiding her breasts as her hands slipped the straps off of the opposite arm.
“It wouldn’t have mattered. We would have stayed at your place anyway, you needed the sleep.” His voice wasn’t as stern as it normally was. Nice to know that, like any other red-blooded male, Patrick could be distracted with a striptease.
“Mmm,” was all she said back, as she let the bra drop, turning at the same time, so he got a mere glimpse of her breasts.
Smiling at the growling noise he made, and the shifting sound of him moving on the bed, she reached behind herself to unzip the back of her skirt. Holding on to the waistband, so it couldn’t just fall off, she slowly let the fabric slide down her legs, bending over so he could enjoy the view of her ass as she stepped out of the skirt.
She wasn’t entirely surprised when his hands grabbed at her waist, and she found herself being pulled over his lap. Her upper body was resting on the bed, her legs dangling down over the side, and his hand was already squeezing one butt cheek while his cock dug into her side. Spreading her legs a little wider, she shuddered as his hand moved lower, fingers brushing over her pussy.
Little tease. He’d asked for it of course, but he hadn’t been prepared for just how good Lexie would be at a striptease. Wondering exactly who else had seen her do something like this had made him impatient to get his hands on her, to touch her and claim her. Possessiveness over her wasn’t anything new, but it was definitely worse now that he could truly consider her to be his.
