OPERATION RUDOLPH
LACY
I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or impressed that he made me come that easily. I think I’m going to go with the latter because it definitely hasn’t been like that with other men.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
It’s a fair question, since I’m still heaving against him. “Yeah, I’m great.” I laugh. “In fact, I’m fucking fantastic.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I was kind of hoping we could do this all night.”
All night? Can men even do that? “Sounds ambitious,” I tease.
“Baby, you don’t know the half of it,” he says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I sit up to face him.
For the first time since arriving, Dalton hesitates. His confidence waning ever so slightly, he pulls his hand through his hair and exhales deeply.
“I have…” He pauses. “I have particular tastes.”
“Tastes?” I tilt my head to the side. I’m still straddling him and he’s still hard against me, but I’m sure my face is the picture of curiosity.
“I don’t have a better way to say this, so I apologize in advance, but my sexual desires are varied, far and wide,” he says, his eyes searching mine.
“You mean like, different people?” I try to make sense of his statement, wondering if he means he has a varied number of women spread out all over to keep it interesting.
“Christ, no. I mean, I’m kinky,” he says quickly. “I guess that’s what you’d call it.”
“Kinky?” I ask, unable to stop a grin from spreading over my lips.
Dalton nods slowly and deliberately. Internally, I’m squealing with delight. I’m dancing the jig and popping a bottle of champagne. On the outside, I’m the picture of composed.
“Well, that’s fine with me,” I say.
His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, like this is the best thing that’s ever been said to him.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“I’m sure,” I say. “There’s plenty I haven’t done, but I’m willing to try it.”
A look of relief and something else, maybe excitement, spreads over his face.
“Tell me your safe word,” he says.
Oh. A safe word . Okay, this is getting good. Although I’ve never had a safe word with anyone else, and therefore, I don’t exactly have a go-to safe word waiting in the wings. So I blurt out the first one that comes to mind. “Rudolph.”
“Rudolph?” he asks, likely making sure he heard me correctly.
I clear my throat. “Just thought we should keep it in the holiday spirit.”
Dalton lets out a breathy laugh, accepting my word and reasoning.
“Rudolph it is,” he says. “Promise me you’ll use it if you feel like you want to? You say it and everything stops immediately.”
I nod, perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm, but I am ready to get to the good stuff. And by good stuff, I mean the dirty, kinky, good stuff.
Dalton pulls me from his lap before standing and stepping out, holding a hand out for me to join him. For a moment, I get hung up on the fact that it’s one thing to be naked while submerged under water, but it’s quite another to walk around without the security blanket feeling I got from being basically covered up.
Looking up at his body, in all its now slick, wet glory, I must’ve hesitated a moment too long, causing him to lean back down to me.
“I figure right about now you’re feeling a tad self-conscious about your body coming up out of that water, hmm?” he asks.
This just goes to show how long he’s known me. It’s like he can read my mind. Which, if you ask me, is possible. Lots of things have wavelengths. I’m convinced brains have them, and some people can pick up those signals. But that’s an off-topic rant for another time.
I give him the slightest of nods.
“Lacy, baby, I’ve known you a long time. I’ve seen your body in a thousand different poses, in hundreds of outfits, bathing suits. I know your body. And I mean, I know it like I know my own. It’s been a personal hobby of mine to study it. But if that’s not enough for you, I’d like to remind you of one simple thing,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
“You just came all over my dick,” he says. “And I want more.”
I suppress a small laugh, pressing my lips together as I gingerly step up and out of the hot tub. Truthfully, what he just said is one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard. And he’s right, of course. I know whatever is happening between us isn’t in spite of a lack of physical attraction. But I don’t know if everything that’s happening now points to deep feelings either.
It’s not like he knows that after meeting him, I ran up to my bedroom and grabbed my diary and started making little doodles of our names together. Yes, I was a teenage girl and still had a diary—get over it. I still keep a journal, actually, but now it feels more like a to-do list rather than an outlet for my emotions.
I don’t know what the equivalent for men is, but I’m pretty sure Dalton didn’t go home and scribble my name anywhere. He said earlier it was never the right time to make a move, but that doesn’t mean it would’ve been a serious move. He said he thought I was hot. That doesn’t mean anything runs deeper than the physical.
His hand grips tightly around mine as he leads me back into the primary bedroom, then spins me around to pull me in close. His lips land on mine, kissing me deeply as he backs me up toward the edge of the bed. God, he’s an amazing kisser. Everything about him is just so perfect.
“I have something I want you to wear for me,” he says, almost sheepishly.
“Another outfit?” I look around, not seeing any clothing.
“More like a piece of jewelry,” he says, biting his bottom lip.
“Okay,” I say, not quite sure what to make of the request.
Dalton steps to the bottom of the bed and unzips a black duffel bag I hadn’t even noticed earlier. He reaches in, palming something, but his hands are so large, I can’t see it.
“Remember,” he says, stepping back toward me, “you can say no anytime you want.”
With that, he holds his hand open to me. Inside, there’s a silver-colored butt plug with a large red gemstone at the end of it. I’ve seen butt plugs before, even contemplated getting one. But I’ve never actually tried one. I can’t conceal the large toothy grin that takes up residence on my face. Because while maybe a very small part of me is hesitant, the rest of me is squealing “Fuck yeah!” inside and throwing a dance party.
“Okay,” I say.
He looks at me for a moment, like he’s trying to make sure I’m really saying yes. I don’t want to seem too enthusiastic, so aside from the smile and simple answer, I try to remain calm. While I am only two years younger than him, I don’t want to give the impression I’m inexperienced. And I definitely want to wipe away any remnants of “just my friend’s kid sister” vibes that may linger. Although, I suspect that isn’t a problem.
He leans down, pressing his mouth against mine in the most tender way, almost like he’s relieved. Perhaps confiding in me that he has “varied tastes,” as he put it, was more difficult for him than I originally thought. Maybe this conversation hadn’t gone smoothly with others in the past. Who knows. But one thing is for sure: I don’t see myself using Rudolph anytime soon.