“Okay,” I whispered. “But I also owe you for stepping up for Sandrine.”
One side of his mouth went up and he agreed, “Yeah, you do.”
I grinned back but I used my whole mouth.
Suddenly, he leaned into me, his face to mine, his fingers slipped in a barely there touch between my legs and my hips jumped.
“So what’re you gonna give me?” he asked.
“What do you want?” I whispered.
“To know what you’ll give me.”
“Whatever you want,” I replied immediately and his fingers came back up in a barely there touch. Then they did it again, there but not there. I could feel the hint, the promise but they weren’t really touching.
I squirmed.
“Whatever I want?” he asked.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Whatever I want,” he murmured as if turning this concept over in his mind.
“Yes,” I repeated on a breath and squirmed again as his fingers kept giving without giving.
“Still, baby,” he warned and it took effort but I stilled.
His fingers moved giving everything and nothing.
I closed my eyes.
His hand went away.
“You know I don’t like your eyes closed, Anya.”
I opened them.
His hand came back.
“You wanna know what I want?” he asked.
“Yes,” I panted.
“I wanna know how long you can take this before you lose control.”
Oh God.
“About two more seconds,” I whispered.
“That would be disappointing,” he replied.
God!
“You gonna try to hold on?”
“Yes,” I breathed as his fingers kept at it.
“Good girl, holding on for Daddy.”
God, just those words nearly made me lose control.
He watched my face, held my eyes as his fingers played. I held on. He kept doing it. I kept holding on.
I was holding tight with both hands to the end of the scarf tied around my wrists and panting, my legs and bottom tight and quivering and he whispered, “Fuck me, magnificent. How much more can you take, baby?”
“Keep giving it to me and we’ll see,” I gasped.
“Fuck, magnificent,” he growled.
Then he kept giving it to me without giving it to me.
Finally, to keep control, my head went back an inch and my teeth sunk into my lip.
“Okay, Anya, you’re done,” he decided, his finger grazed my clit, my neck arched, my hips bucked and I came instantly.
When I was coming down, his fingers were slipping through and his lips were at my ear.
“Saturated,” he growled. “Roll to your back, you know how I like it. Offer that pussy to me. Daddy’s gonna lick you clean.”
He pulled away and I didn’t hesitate. I rolled to my back, lifted my knees high and spread my legs wide.
Then my Daddy licked me clean and made me come again doing it.
Then he fucked me hard and he made me come doing that too.
Then he didn’t untie me after he turned out the lights and settled tight to my side. He made me fall asleep with his hand cupping me, two fingers inside.
I slept like a baby.
Not a single dream.
Chapter Twelve
Mr. Sebring
I wandered down the hall in my platinum high-heeled sandals, wearing my kickass, platinum satin dress that clung to all the right parts of me. It was super short, had some intriguing drapes and was held up at my shoulders by slim, oval metal links. My clutch was tucked under my arm and my neck was bent, head twisted, forearms raised because I was still putting in my earring.
I heard Knight on the phone and I knew he was somewhere in the kitchen-living room area.
It was Friday, three weeks from Sandrine Scene, the Sequel.
The good news was, as of Wednesday, I was officially a certified skin technician. Classes were done and three of my nights were free. The other good news was, Knight’s employee, Kathleen, booked a weekly manicure on Monday nights. Weekly! Sixty extra dollars a month and that didn’t include tip. Crazy cool. Further good news was, Sandrine was laying low and licking her wounds that she messed it all up and strange, somewhat loser-ish rich guy who was still into her slipped through her fingers. She hadn’t been out since which meant she might have learned her lesson (hopefully). More good news was that it was the end of April, the weather was warming up and summer, my favorite season, was around the corner.
And the last good news was all things Knight.
We didn’t see each other often but we slept in the same bed every night (well, some of it, at least, since he was never home before two thirty). Sometimes, though rarely, he simply joined me and I didn’t even know it until the alarm sounded and I woke up beside him. Most times, he woke me and did me bossy. A few times, he woke me and made gentle love to me.
I liked all three.
We talked on the phone at least once every day. Depending on when this was, it could last a few minutes to longer. If I was at work, he just checked in. If he was at work and I was at home, sometimes he’d have time, sometimes he wouldn’t, sometimes he’d get called away.
He’d come to work to take me to lunch one day, though and, since I told him, and he thought it was uproariously funny, and I knew this because he laughed uproariously when I told him, he knew he was going to be given the once-over by the office girls.
He showed up in a suit, an electric blue tailored shirt and he still hadn’t had a haircut.
It was reported to me that he also smiled at one of our receptionists, Rosie, when he asked for me. And since everyone was hanging out in reception, they all caught the smile.
Not surprisingly, he was given enthusiastic thumbs-up all around.
When I informed him of this, he again laughed uproariously.
We had our Sundays together and I knew these were sacrosanct because after the first one blown by Sandrine’s antics, he didn’t take a single call all day the last two. He was always in demand, having calls come in when I was on the phone with him or people wanting his attention. So I knew he laid down the law.
For me.
After the first Sunday when his phone didn’t ring once, the second one, I turned mine off.
For Knight.
Now, even though it was nearing ten on a work night for him and he was usually long gone by then, he was taking me to Slade. I didn’t know why but I was going because it was an order.
“Pick a dress. When I look out the window of my office, I wanna see you,” was all he said.
I didn’t know what I’d do by myself, me and whatever security he assigned to me alone in a sea of people in his club. But I figured I could entertain myself.
And bottom line, if Knight wanted to see me out of his office window, I’d be there to be seen.
So I’d spent the last hour and a half after Knight made me dinner dolling up.
Now I was ready.
I’d turned the bend in the L and was wandering down the other hall not listening to him mostly because I was concentrating on walking, holding my clutch, my bracelet I couldn’t get clasped by myself dangling from my fist and finding the hole in my ear all at the same time.
I hit the open area and the curved post of my earring slid in. I stopped to slide on the plastic doohickey to keep it from working its way out and I dropped my hands and looked to Knight.
He was in the kitchen by the bar staring at me, eyes moving over me and they were hungry.
My knees got weak.
“Anya’s ready,” he rumbled into his phone, his voice not smooth by a long shot. “We’re done talking.”
Then he hit a button and dropped his phone to the counter.
“Here,” he growled. “Now.”
I went there and I did it immediately.