18. Bringing Her Home
Bringing Her Home
Sam
Holy crap. Q lived in a house-house. Like a full-on single-family home with a yard, a driveway, and a garage.
The kind of house she dreamed about having one day when she was watching home improvement shows.
Sitting in the driveway, she stared up at it, lit up by the lights from the street, hanging over the garage door, and next to the front door.
She couldn’t seem to make herself let go of the steering wheel as she stared at the open garage door. The two-car garage only had his car, and it looked like he was getting something before getting out. It occurred to her that she could just drive away.
Back out of the driveway, drive away, and never return.
She’d been relieved when he’d suggested going to his place after class, a chance to save a little money. Clearly, money hadn’t been his motivating factor.
How had he wanted to sleep over in her tiny apartment when he had this to come home to?
Get out of the car. Take your hands off the steering wheel and get out of the car. You can’t just sit here.
The urge to flee swelled again.
She felt like she was in high school all over again, realizing she wouldn’t be able to afford a prom dress, much less the rest of it. Like she didn’t measure up. Like she wasn’t good enough.
Having money doesn’t make anyone better than anyone else.
Pressing her lips together, she swallowed hard, trying to ignore the churning anxiety in her stomach. She liked her little apartment. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. And if Q didn’t like her because he had more money and a better house than she did, that made him a bad person.
Which, he’d seen her place, and he hadn’t acted like it mattered to him, so it wasn’t something she needed to worry about, anyway. The only person getting in her way right now was her.
It would have been nice if his house didn’t step on so many of her deep-seated insecurities, but she shouldn’t let it chase her away. She needed to pull on her big girl panties and act like the person she wanted to be, not like the girl she’d been.
When Q’s car door opened, she made her fingers release the steering wheel and smile with a confidence she didn’t feel.
Fake it ‘til you make it. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her purse and opened her door. It wasn’t as though Q didn’t know she had some money troubles.
She’d told him earlier about needing the raise. Seen his face.
He hadn’t judged, but he’d wanted to help, which had been nearly as bad. He hadn’t made a big deal out of it, though, which was reassuring.
It was her turn not to make a big deal.
“It looks like a beautiful house,” she said as she walked into the garage, doing her best to keep her envy out of her voice and make it wholly a compliment.
“Thanks. I got it with an inheritance, which was what my grandfather wanted me to do with it.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking her hand when she reached him and turning toward the door inside.
“It could probably use someone who loves home improvement shows to give some suggestions on decoration and design.” His dark eyes sparkled with amusement.
Sam stuck her tongue out at him, but her heart jumped in her chest at the suggestion. Part of her really liked that idea, but she was pretty sure he was joking. She didn’t want to impose, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about decorating someone else’s house.
“You could try watching them yourself, then you’d know what you like,” she retorted, making him chuckle.
“Do you want the grand tour?”
The garage door opened into the kitchen, and Q flipped on the light.
It was a very nineties kitchen and Sam’s lips twitched as she looked down at the linoleum under her feet.
Not that there was anything wrong with linoleum—she’d never grown up in a house without it—but man did it make her brain start rolling with possibilities.
Q seriously had her dream house, and part of her wanted to wail about how unfair it was, but she wouldn’t.
He’d probably rather have his grandfather than the house, and she wasn’t going to rub that in.
Besides, she’d learned at a young age that life wasn’t fair.
He was a Black man. His immediate family might not have struggled financially the way hers had, but they would have had to overcome a hell of a lot to get there, and he was still living in a world that would put him at a disadvantage purely because of his skin color.
“You’re thinking about all the things you could do to upgrade the kitchen, aren’t you?” He grinned at her, squeezing her hand, and Sam smiled back.
“I’m thinking about how damn envious I am, and wondering why you haven’t done anything to it,” she replied, shaking her head. He laughed and looked around again as though he was seeing it with new eyes.
“I’ve just gotten used to it. It functions.” He shrugged. “Which is pretty much how I feel about the whole house. Besides, I don’t know what I would do if I was going to redo it. I wasn’t entirely kidding about needing someone to help me.”
She bit her lip against offering, too worried that would be overstepping her bounds. Yeah, they had moved kind of fast into sleepovers and her being invited to his Friendsgiving, but actually helping him redesign his kitchen… that seemed like serious girlfriend territory.
Maybe down the line.
“So, am I getting the grand tour?” Getting out the kitchen would help, plus she really did want to see the rest of the house.
“Absolutely.” Q leered at her, winking. “It ends in the master bedroom.” He put a bit of emphasis on the word “master,” making a kinky pun.
Sam laughed, shaking her head at him.
Q
Showing Sam around his house was a little nerve-wracking, especially because he knew she was into the home improvement stuff.
He liked his house and didn’t have any problems with it.
He hadn’t thought twice before inviting her over, but now that she was actually here, he noticed a lot of little things he wished were…
different. Not just in terms of cleanliness and clutter.
He wasn’t dirty, and he had someone come in once a month to deep clean, but between those deep cleanings, things had a habit of becoming cluttered.
That was part of why he’d signed up for the service after his roommates had all moved out.
They gave him a reason to do things—like put his laundry away instead of leaving it in piles and clearing off the various surfaces around the house of the things he set on them without thinking.
Unfortunately, he was at about the halfway point between cleanings, which meant he hadn’t started picking up stuff yet. He hadn’t thought about it until Sam was actually here. Maybe because he was used to it, but now that she was at his side, he was imagining how she was seeing things.
He also noticed all the stuff he hadn’t liked about the house when he’d first moved in and had meant to change, eventually, but had never actually gotten around to. Like the linoleum floor in the kitchen, the dark beige carpet on the rest of the first floor, and the light beige color on the walls.
Everything in the house was very beige.
The kitchen lights needed an update, too. So did the bathrooms, for that matter. He was pretty sure all of them were original to the house, which was over thirty years old. Hell, the house was a few years older than he was.
And the only reason he cared now was because he cared a lot more about what Sam thought than he’d realized.
Would have been good to realize that before inviting her over. I could have at least cleaned up a little.
Thankfully, if she noticed anything, she was too polite to say so.
“And this is the master,” he said, pushing open the door and letting her in. At least he only had a normal amount of clutter and no weird smells coming from the bathroom.
“It’s huge.” She gave a small sigh full of envy, and Q was assailed with a new set of doubts.
He’d wanted to show off his house to her, even if it was a little messy, because he knew it was a great ‘project house.’ He’d thought she’d appreciate that, but he hadn’t thought about the difference between their homes.
Did she think he was showing off in a bad way? Did she feel like he was rubbing it in her face?
Suddenly, he was second guessing literally everything.
Then she turned to him, smiling.
“Since it’s the master bedroom, does that mean you’re always going to be in charge? Or can it be a mistress bedroom, too?” Good humor sparkled in her eyes, and Q relaxed.
“It can be whatever you want it to be.”
“I think…” She let the moment draw out, making him wait for it. “I think I would like to let go and not be in charge for a bit.”
Despite the fact he’d been in class for submission less than half an hour ago, hearing her say that triggered an electric response in his brain.
He went from feeling like he could go either way, straight into Dom mode.
Sam needed him to take charge. That’s what she wanted, that’s what she was requesting, and he immediately responded.
“Then it sounds like this is the master bedroom tonight,” he said, pulling her to him.
Holding her hand, he reached up with the other to cradle her face, the tips of his fingers sliding into her hair.
The heels she was wearing put her just below his height, so she only had to tip her lips back a little to be in the perfect position for his kiss.
“I can’t stay the night,” she said a little breathlessly. “I have to be up really early in the morning.”
“Noted. Thank you for telling me.” It wouldn’t change too much of what he wanted to do with her, but he would be mindful of the timeline and how much energy he took out of her.
Lowering his lips to hers, he took them in a gentle kiss.
He felt her tense just before their lips met, then she slowly relaxed.
She leaned against him with her hands on his chest as his fingers slipped back into her hair.
Feeling the tense muscles in her neck, he massaged them as he deepened the kiss, taking the time to taste her, savor her.
Cherish her.
Sam moaned against his lips. She didn’t quite go limp, but her body softened, her posture becoming more supple, and more of her weight leaned on him as he stroked her muscles. Yeah, his pretty girl needed some rest and relaxation.
Sometimes, it was fun to let go of control, but sometimes, people who were the most controlling outside of the bedroom needed the break. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sam was feeling that right now. Feeling her relax for him was nearly as satisfying as knowing she was aroused.
Lifting his head, he smiled at her.
“Good girl.” She melted a little more, her eyes already a bit hazy with arousal and submission.
She was looking at him expectantly, ready to follow wherever he was going to lead her.
“I want you to undress. I’m going to get something from my closet, when I get back, I want you totally naked and bent over my bed. Can you do that, gorgeous?”
Her eyes lit up, as though he’d turned on a lightbulb inside her. This was exactly what she wanted. Needed. And Q was going to provide it for her.
“Yes, Sir.”