Chapter 13
Bryson
I wasn’t kidding when I told Lillian she was refreshing. She’s fucking adorable, and I’ve never been attracted to adorable before. I’m thirty-five years old. I never expected to be standing in a fetish shop with a woman fourteen years my junior explaining the differences between vibrators.
I never expected to be wrapped around someone this na?ve in my lifetime. It never happened even when I was her age. I’ve never had sex with a virgin, not even when I was a virgin.
There is very little chance that I’ve ever had sex with someone who didn’t know her way around her body so confidently that she could direct me to get her off.
Lillian, though… I can’t keep my hands off her. I can’t keep her out of my mind. I tossed and turned half the night, thinking about her.
It’s not purely sexual, either. I genuinely like her. She makes me smile. She makes me laugh. This woman is bright and intelligent. I want to spend every minute with her, and that’s scaring the fuck out of me.
What I don’t want to do is hurt her. I’ll never forgive myself if this goes south and she ends up crying on Camden’s shoulder. I know he mentioned that possibility and promised me he would be there for her, but the idea makes me flinch.
I end up putting the two toys back on the shelf and grabbing unopened boxes of both plus two others. “Let’s put these on the counter and explore the rest of the store.”
“Four?” she hisses. “I don’t need four vibrators, Bryson.”
“You don’t think that’s enough?” I tease. “I can pick up a few more if you’d like.”
“Don’t you dare.” She grabs my hand and yanks me away from this section.
Belinda is serving another customer at the check out, but she nods toward us as I set our selections on the other end of the counter before taking Lillian’s hand to guide her toward the BDSM equipment.
She says nothing as I wrap my arms around her from behind, lean toward her ear again, and start explaining everything in front of us. It’s a wall of floggers, paddles, whips, crops, canes, and more.
Her heart is racing.
“I’m not telling you all this because I think you should try it. I doubt you’ll ever want to, sweet girl. I’m simply educating you.”
“Do you own all this stuff?”
“Yes, most of it. I have a large duffel I take to the club that has the toys I prefer to play with. It’s always better to have my own with me so that I know how they feel in my hand.
The slightest nuances between one whip and another can make a world of difference if you’re on the receiving end and I strike from too close or too far or even too hard. ”
“I see,” she murmurs. This section is not for her. She’s hesitant and freaking out a bit, based on how hard her hands are shaking and how pale her face is.
I move on to bondage equipment.
“What’s that?” she asks, pointing toward a display.
“It’s a harness. A lot of submissives like to be strapped into one. It’s sort of like a swing. It can be adjusted to hold your legs pressed together or force them wide apart.”
Her breath hitches, and her hand comes to her throat.
I watch, fascinated as she pats around her neck before fisting her hand between her breasts.
“Did you used to wear pearls?” I ask.
She looks back at me and blinks. “Yes. All the time. I took them off when I got here and never put them back on. They were pretentious, and I don’t like the reminder.”
My heart hurts for the craziness that was her odd, repressed life.
I slide a hand up, cup her chin, and kiss her lips softly.
It’s all I can do to reassure her. I’m no expert on batshit parents.
My own parents were hard-working folks who adored me and raised me to be the man I am.
We weren’t poor, but we didn’t have everything money could buy. Regular folks.
I release her chin and dance my fingers at her throat. I wonder if she’d like to have a replacement necklace someday. Not pearls, but something that would comfort her without leaving her absently reaching for nothing.
I guide my girl away from the equipment without telling her more. This is not her thing. Next, we approach the clothes.
“Wow, they have something for everyone,” she says.
“Yes. Anything from Dominatrix to Baby girl.”
She wanders away slightly, keeping her fingers in mine. No more than a foot separates us, but it’s a mile for me. I like holding her close. I need to let her explore, though, especially now that she’s relaxed and showing an interest.
Without a word, I follow her from rack to rack while she looks. Finally, she wanders from the adult Baby clothing to the racks next to it that have other accoutrements for the entire range of age play.
“There are so many options,” she whispers.
“Just like humans. Something for everyone. So many styles and preferences.”
“I guess so.”
“Anything you want to buy?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’m good.”
I give her hand a tug and pull her front against me. Wrapping my arms around her, I meet her gaze. “Lillian, get anything you want. There’s no need to be shy about it. Surely you know I’m not going to judge you.”
She smiles. “I know. I think the pile of vibrators is more than enough.” She narrows her eyes. “Are you going to let me use them?”
I chuckle. “Of course.”
She rolls her eyes. “But not alone.”
I kiss her. “Never.” I’m grinning as I lead her to the checkout counter.
“Find everything you were looking for?” Belinda asks.
“I think so. If not, we’ll come back,” I tell her.
As she rings up our items, she holds up the box that contains a butterfly vibrator. “Oh, I love this one. My boyfriend got me one a few months ago. It can be wicked. Whatever you do, be leery if your man decides to tie you to the bedposts and pulls out the butterfly.” She groans.
Lillian sucks in a breath and looks at me with wide eyes.
I smirk.
A few minutes later, I have paid, and we are back in the truck. “Lunch?”
Lillian has her thighs gripped together and is sitting on her hands. She twists to look at me. “You expect me to eat? All I can think about is that butterfly. You didn’t explain it to me. You just put it on the pile.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry. I promise not to use it on you during lunch.”
She gasps, her giant brown eyes bigger than her head.
I lean over, cup her face, and kiss her. “Kidding, sweet girl. You’re safe in public…for now. I won’t strap a toy against your clit and torment you in public until we get to the third date at least.”
“Bryson!” Her face softens, though, and she starts giggling. “You can’t take me to lunch if you’re going to talk like that. Everyone will see my red cheeks and think you fucked me in the truck first.”
Yeah, she’s adorable, and I’m falling harder for her by the hour.