Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
Isaac
I can’t believe I slept as well as I did. I woke up one time when my arm started tingling. It was asleep under Amber’s neck. I carefully extricated it, shook it, and fell back asleep.
Now, it’s morning. Amber is still asleep, her pretty lips parted as she breathes shallowly. I’ve been awake for a while, but I can’t bring myself to move. For one thing, I could stare at my girl for hours and not grow bored.
Even though I’ve known Amber for two years and have lived with her for half that time, I have never had the freedom to stare at her like I’m doing now. It wouldn’t have been appropriate. I’ve always kept my eye contact with Amber to the exact amount any employee would have with their boss.
This morning, the game has changed. From now on, I will stare at my girl as often and as long as I please. She might not like it, but I’m going to do it.
Her thick hair is fanned out around her, making her look like an angel. Her button nose is kissable. Her cheeks are rosy, probably because she’s overheated from the furnace I’m creating around her.
I wince about the stitches on her chin. I’m certain the scar will be hardly noticeable when it heals, but I hate that my girl was injured in the first place. If I ever catch her twirling around in circles to let her dresses flare out, I will spank her ass so hard she won’t be able to sit. That’s a safety rule.
One of Amber’s hands is on top of mine, and I stare at it for a while, too. I love how dainty her small hand looks compared to mine. She keeps her nails blunt and filed because they get in the way when she’s painting or sketching. I’m surprised at how clean she manages to get them, especially on the days she uses graphite. She often walks out of the studio with black fingers, but she must have some sort of special soap to get them clean.
Eventually, her face scrunches, and she whimpers as she lifts her hand toward her chin. I grab her wrist gently to keep her from hurting herself.
Her breath hitches, and her eyes pop open. When she realizes where she is and who she’s with, she gives me a small smile and exhales.
I kiss her forehead. “Does your chin hurt, baby?”
She nods.
“How about we go in the bathroom, and I’ll take the bandage off and take a look?”
She nods again. Her eyes are wide. They were wide yesterday when she was in Little space. Has she woken up in Little space? She also spent some time slightly nonverbal yesterday. I think her Little is very quiet.
I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss the tips before carefully climbing over her and holding out a hand to help her up.
When she pulls the covers back, she stares at herself for a few seconds before tipping her head back to look at me. I know what she’s thinking. She’s wearing very little clothing. I already knew this. After all, she climbed onto my lap in the middle of the night and pressed that cotton-covered pussy and those barely veiled tits against me.
I’m not immune. She’s sexy as fuck. I’d love to flatten her to the bed, pull those tiny garments off her, and lick every inch of her body until she screams. But we’re not there yet, and, lucky for me, my shorts are loose.
I reach down and take her hand. “Come, baby.”
She slides off the bed and lets me guide her to the bathroom.
“Why don’t you go potty, and then I’ll look at your chin?”
She nods but stands in the middle of the bathroom, staring at me.
Fuck. I wish we could skip ahead to when my girl won’t hesitate to pee with me in the room, but again—not there yet.
“I’ll wait outside,” I tell her and step into the bedroom, pulling the door almost closed. I’ll never fully shut a door between us again. That’s going to be one of today’s hard rules. I hate feeling shut off from her. I’m not going to let her do it anymore. Her bedroom door will remain wide open at all times. I’ll let her pull her studio door almost closed, but I want a few inches. This bathroom situation, where she still needs privacy, is going to poof out of existence as soon as possible.
The moment I hear the toilet flush and the water running, I open the door and barge back in. I head directly for the toilet, stand with my back to her, pull out my cock, and pee.
When I tuck myself back in and turn around, I find her watching me. Her hands are under the stream of water, but she’s a statue otherwise. Her cheeks are red.
I smile as I come up behind her, crowd her against the sink, pump some soap into my palms, and surround her small hands with mine, washing both of ours together. God, I love the way her breath hitches and she starts panting.
I turn off the water, grab the hand towel, and dry our combined fingers. When I’m done, I bend and kiss her neck. “There won’t be modesty between us, baby,” I whisper.
She swallows.
After turning her around, I lift her by the hips and set her on the vanity, tipping her head back a moment later to peel the waterproof bandage off. I’m fully aware that she’s breathing heavily and pressing her thighs together. She’s gripping the vanity next to her knees. Her nipples are hard, dark points against the tight, thin cotton.
I’d give anything to skip this weird phase we’re in. I want to peel this shirt off and suck those nipples. This is the most I’ve ever seen of her. I want more. I’m greedy.
“Daddy?” she whispers.
My heart stops. Fuck, she’s perfection. “Yes, baby?”
“Maybe I should get dressed,” she murmurs.
“Let me examine your chin first, baby, okay?” I’m pushing her to the edge of her comfort zone, but she’s not fighting back.
“’Kay.”
“Good girl.”
She bites her bottom lip at the praise. My girl likes praise.
After I remove the bandage, I grab a damp cloth and clean around the edges of the wound. It looks good. It’s not red or swollen. I dab some petroleum jelly on it next. She winces slightly but says nothing.
“It looks good, baby. In a few weeks, no one will know you cut yourself.” I tuck one finger under her chin, tip her head back farther, and hold her gaze. My face is inches from hers. I have never kissed her. I need to feel her lips more than I need my next breath.
She’s not pulling away, even when I glance at her lips. I won’t make a big deal out of it, especially not while she’s in Little space. But I want to claim her, and my lips will do that.
Cocking my head slightly to one side, I lower my lips to hers for a soft, brief, gentle kiss. I pull back slowly, liking the way her eyes have glazed.
“I’m going to fix you some breakfast. Why don’t you get dressed?”
She gives me a slight nod.
I lift her off the counter, turn her toward the bedroom, and guide her forward. I want to dress her myself, but again, we’re not there. We’re in a weird place for now. I’m already silently rushing her. I won’t push my luck.
When I get to the door, I turn back. “This door stays open from now on, understood?”
She looks at me with those wide eyes and nods. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” I don’t move for a few more seconds because I can’t draw my gaze away from her. I’m magnetically pulled toward her. She has never looked cuter than she does right now, standing only a few yards away from me, wearing nothing but white bikini panties and a tight white tank top. Her hair is a tangle all around her.
I finally back out of the room, leaving the door open, and head for my bedroom. Our previous sleeping arrangement is over. There are things I might not rush her on for the time being, but my girl is sleeping in my arms from now on.
I quickly change into jeans and a T-shirt. It’s my usual attire, even when we’re out. It helps me blend in, so it’s not so obvious to everyone around that she has a bodyguard following her.
Over time, I have stopped following Amber anyway. I usually stand next to her. I’m always carefully looking around to make sure there are no threats, but to the average person, I’m sure I look like her boyfriend.
That arrangement is no longer going to be questionable because, from now on, I will have a hand on her back or thread our fingers together. Any doubts in anyone’s mind will be obliterated.
I have bacon sizzling in one pan and scrambled eggs in another when Amber joins me in the kitchen. I do a doubletake because she’s wearing a dress, but then I remember we’re meeting with a gallery owner today.
Even though Amber wears torn jeans and paint-splattered shirts at home and even out running errands, she has a more professional side that comes out when she’s selling art. She puts on makeup, heels, and sexy dresses when we meet people, and she can look like a beauty queen when she has an exhibition at an art gallery.
Today’s dress is black. It’s made of a silky material that hugs her breasts perfectly and extends down her body to the floor with a slit up the side. She has on black wedge sandals that make the dress look more casual. If she wore a diamond necklace and gold strappy heels, the dress would look like an expensive evening gown.
Her hair is mostly down, with the front section gathered up in a black clip on top of her head. Her makeup is soft and subtle. She is so fucking gorgeous.
I stare at her for so long that she eventually chuckles. “The bacon is going to burn, big guy.”
I roll my eyes and turn back to lift the slices out of the pan. My girl is in her adult headspace. I wonder how she switches. Is it the clothes? She’s going to give me whiplash if I have to keep guessing which Amber I’m getting.
I dish up two plates of food, including buttered toast, and set them on the table before adding glasses of orange juice and mugs of coffee. I’ve already prepared Amber’s the way she likes it—with way more cream and sugar than coffee.
“What time is my appointment?” she asks as she takes a seat where she always sits.
“Eleven.”
“Do you mind if we make a few stops before that? Do we have time?”
“We have plenty of time. Where would you like to go?”
“I was hoping to stop at that art supply store near the gallery and pop into that cute boutique on the corner. The one that always has the colorfully dressed mannequins in the display window.”
I nod. I know the one she’s talking about. I’ve taken her there several times. “Shall we leave about nine?”
“That would be perfect.” She pushes her food around on her plate with her fork. She hasn’t taken a bite yet. Finally, she draws in a deep breath and looks at me. “Isaac, I…” She swallows.
I reach over and set my hand on top of hers. “One day at a time, baby. Eat your breakfast.”
She gives a slight nod and takes a bite. Her voice is soft as she says, “I’m trying to think back, wondering if you were ever just my bodyguard.”
“No, baby. I was always more than that.”
She nods again, staring at her plate.