“Ah ah ah,” I scolded, pulling a wine bottle from the fridge. “Follow me, please. I slaved all day,” I said, putting a little extra hip into my walk. “And if you’re nice and eat all your dinner, I’ll let you be my master later.”
One side of his mouth hooked up. “Deal.”
I led him into the candle-lit dining room, which was laid out with a feast—spinach salad with warm bacon dressing, roasted chicken and vegetables, fresh bread and butter. (In the fridge was a peach and vanilla puff pastry pie, which I’d cheated and bought at the bakery, but he didn’t need to know that.)
I let Charlie choose where he wanted to sit and poured the wine. I had classical music playing at a low volume, adding to the elegant atmosphere. In fact, between the white Irish linens, my grandmother’s china, the Waterford crystal wine glasses my mother had given me for Christmas, the candles, and Charlie’s suit, the entire scene had a sort of formal air—except for the fact that I was dining in see-through underwear.
We didn’t talk much during dinner. I actually had a thousand things I wanted to say…not the least of which was I love you…but I was content to let it go for now and just enjoy being in the same room with him, the air between us growing heavy with unspoken desire.
At one point Charlie did tease me a little. “What’s the heat at, about eighty?” He loosened his tie.
“Seventy-five.” I grinned. “I could turn it down, but then I’d have to put on a sweater.”
We locked eyes. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch it.”
When we’d finished dessert, I cleared the dishes, refusing Charlie’s help. And for once, I didn’t give a shit about cleaning up right away, so I left them all piled on the island. Back in the dining room, Charlie was still sitting at the table. “Can I get you anything else?” I asked, sidling up to him.
“Yes. You can get your ass on my lap.”
There wasn’t much space between his body and the table, but I thought I could manage it. Grateful for twenty-five years of dance training, I unfolded a leg gracefully over his lap, and settled my hips over his. His cock stirred beneath me.
With one fingertip, he traced my collarbone, my shoulder, my lips. “I want you,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Like I’ve never wanted anyone before.”
My breath hitched.
“It’s the strangest feeling—to love someone this way.” He slid both hands down the sides of my ribs to the small of my back. “I want to protect you. Cherish you. Worship you.” He gripped my ass hard, pulled me tight to him and spoke right in my ear. “But then I want to fuck you so hard it hurts. Take your body. Claim it. Make it mine.”
“Yes,” I whispered, threading my hands into his hair as he devoured my throat, understanding that need perfectly. Mine was to be protected and cherished and worshiped, but also bossed around, handled hard, torn apart. “Do it. Take it. Make me yours.” I moved my hips over his, grinding against the hardness between us. Pulling his head up, I kissed his lips, his cheek, his forehead. Arching back, I brought his head to my chest and sighed as he worked his mouth on my nipples through the mesh and lace of my bra. “I’ve never wanted to give myself to anyone before, not like this.” Growing impatient to get him inside me, I moved my hands to his pants, unbuttoned them.
“Wait.”
Surprised, I stopped. “Wait?”
He moved the chair back and raised me to standing with his hands on my hips. “First I want to watch you.”
“Watch me?”
“Yes.” He moved his chair back even further, leaving me standing two feet in front of him.
“Watch me do what?”
“Touch yourself.”
My back stiffened. I’d never done this before and hadn’t anticipated it. I swallowed. “What?”
“You heard me. Touch yourself. You can leave the panties on.”
I’d been in my underwear all night, but I suddenly felt much more exposed than I had before. Tentatively, I brought three fingertips to my pussy.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice like the rustle of silk. “Your nipples, too.”
With one hand massaging my clit, I brought the other to my breast, teasing the stiff peak through the lace. The entire time, I kept my eyes on him, drank in all the little details that had blood rushing to my core—the tie pulled slightly askew, the white cuffs resting over his thighs, the flicker of the candlelight in his eyes, the firm set of his jaw as he fought the urge to touch me.
“Good girl.” His fingers flexed. “I love watching you. You’re so beautiful.”
“Tell me.” I pushed down one side of my bra, exposing one breast. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything.”
“Make yourself come.”
Oh God. Could I? With him watching? In the dining room?
Oh, just do it. For fuck’s sake, you do it all the time. Share it with him. Then he’ll owe you a show of his own…
At the thought of watching him come, my breath came in quick, shallow bursts. I began to move my fingers in just the right way, with just the right pressure. Damp heat seeped through the lace and mesh. A sound of pleasure escaped my throat.
“Look at me.”
I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes.
“Are you wet?” Barely-suppressed desire oozed through his whispered words.
“Yes.”
“Are you close?”