Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
My nerves flare as I wait for Katarina to finish dressing and come to my room.
When I told her we were going on a proper date this evening, she was so excited that I thought she would levitate off the ground.
It made me realize that I haven’t even approached the lengths I’d like to go to spoil her and show her off.
Selfishly, I’ve been enjoying our cozy little bubble and routine we’ve developed here at home.
I need to step my game up, though. She deserves the best.
A million ideas came to mind for our first official date, from elaborate trips overseas to a theme park she’s been not-so-subtly hinting about wanting to visit. I decided to table my idea of having a hedge maze built for a game of chase. Perhaps that will be an anniversary present in a few years…
No, I decided to keep things simple tonight.
I’m taking her into the city to one of my favorite restaurants at a member’s club that should have dancing this evening.
Instead of coming home, we’ll stay in a penthouse suite downtown and enjoy the nighttime views from the balcony hot tub.
I hope. Since our explosive encounter a couple of days ago when I finally snapped and put my hands on her, we’ve been apart as she’s spent time with her cousin and I’ve dealt with business.
Tonight, though, she’s all mine, since Sasha has to go back to… whatever or whoever he’s doing.
A knock on my door draws me out of my thoughts, their subject finally gracing my presence. She’s a dream, wearing the outfit I laid out for her earlier, but holding the dress up at the chest.
“I find myself once again in need of a zip, Mr. Sinclair. Would you mind terribly? But close your eyes. I can’t have you privy to all my secrets at the beginning of the night,” She demands in a coquettish tone, and I sigh in relief that there won’t be any awkwardness between us this evening.
“Of course, Mrs. Sinclair. Thank you for wearing the dress I picked for you tonight,” I murmur into her neck, as I feel for the zipper of the corseted dress.
She’ll need a coat until we get into the restaurant, but I didn’t want her to get hot dancing.
“And the jewelry, and the shoes. Hopefully other things…”
I hope I’ll have the chance to see if she wore the lingerie I chose for the night.
“I wasn’t aware I had a choice. When clothes appear hanging in my room, it generally means the decision of what I’ll wear for the evening has already been made,” she teases.
Nipping her shoulder, I spin her around in my arms to look into her eyes. “You always have a choice, Kitten. But that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be consequences if you ignore what I pick for you.”
Heat flashes in her eyes, and I briefly consider the merits of staying in tonight and fucking my wife on every surface of the house before moving outside to the grounds, but then I take a deep breath.
This is not the point of tonight. Well, maybe later.
Not right now. Right now is about treating her like a queen and showing her off.
“This place is amazing, Henry! What year did you say it was built?”
Katarina seems pleased with my choice of venue for our night away, an Art Deco-style supper club that’s been a favorite of our family for years.
It was built in 1927, and I explain it’s the best vantage point in the city as she takes in the sleek brass accents throughout the lobby.
Once they’ve taken our coats, we’re led by the ma?tre d' to my preferred booth in a back corner, with the best view in the house and a modicum of privacy provided by a half wall.
All eyes are on us as we make our way through the restaurant filled with business associates, people I’ve known my entire life, and a few town gossips.
The lovely thing about this club, though, is that conversation between parties who did not arrive together is highly discouraged.
Everyone can see Katarina, feel my obsession as I lead her through the restaurant with a hand low on her back, and see us sit closely on the same side of the booth…
but they can’t approach, talk, or touch.
No Chuck Dawson pawing at my wife, no blabbing submissives to make her feel less than or question my utter devotion.
Smirking, I see the envious looks on every face we pass.
She doesn’t know any of these people or the restaurant rules. She’s too busy admiring the architecture of the building, the decor, the ambiance, and the view. No, the peacocking is pure selfishness on my part. Look, everyone. Don’t you wish she was yours? Too bad.
“Oh, Henry, the view is wonderful! The sunset is going to be beautiful,” Katarina says before looking up at me with those bewitching violet eyes.
Bending down, I give her a tiny peck on the nose before gesturing for her to sit in the booth.
“Not as beautiful as you, darling.”
Before long, we’re cozied up with glasses of champagne, toasting our first date. Being a longtime member here has some benefits, since nobody is bothered about checking Katarina’s ID.
“To you, Kitten, and to thousands more dates for us,” I say, clinking our glasses. Her eyes well with tears, but her smile tells me they’re happy ones as she sips her champagne.
The server arrives, and I make quick work of placing our orders for the evening.
“French onion soup for both of us to start, then we’ll each have the tenderloin. Rare for me, medium for my wife. I’ll have the broccolini on the side. She’ll have mashed potatoes with gravy and steak fries. For dessert, one slice of the chocolate ganache cake and one crème br?lée. Thank you.”
He scurries off as I turn to see Katarina looking at me with an eyebrow raised.
“Did you think perhaps I might want to see a menu or decide what I wanted to eat myself?” she asks, but I can tell by her tone that she’s not truly upset.
“I did not consider that, no,” I say, earning a swat on my arm. “I know what you like, and these are the dishes on the menu you’ll like best. If you aren’t satisfied by the end of the meal, I’ll get you whatever you want.”
With no rebuttal to that, but a hungry look in her eyes that I’m not sure is only directed at the food, she continues asking about the history of the building, and we watch the sunset as our conversation flows.
It’s not lost on me how smart she is. No topic is too dry or obscure for her to make interesting.
By the time we finish our soup and our main course arrives, she’s migrated closer and closer to me and is practically against my side.
“I think it might be hard for us to eat our steak sitting so close together,” I tease, but she’s eyeing her steak with an odd expression on her face. “What’s wrong?”
She gives me an embarrassed look. “I love steak, but usually, I don’t cut it myself. Something about it just grosses me out, even if it’s tender.”
Thinking back, I realize Mrs. Potts has pre-cut Katarina’s steak when we’ve had it at home. Internally grinning, I realize this gives me the perfect opportunity to take care of her.
“Come here,” I say, and she gives a delightful little squeak as I pull her sideways onto my lap, pushing the table back slightly with my foot to accommodate her. “You can sit here, and I’ll cut your steak for you. How does that sound?”
She blinks up at me and inhales deeply, looking peaceful and right at home on my lap.
Nodding, she smiles as I cut and feed her the first piece of steak, and the little moan she gives tells me it’s cooked to her liking.
We pass the rest of our meal like this, me feeding her little bites and chatting about various subjects.
It’s torture having her in my lap, but I love it.
With my arms around her, I feel like I’m protecting her from the world.
Nothing can upset her or harm her as long as she’s right here where she belongs.
“What made you choose this hotel for tonight?” Katarina asks as we make our way inside the suite, tired but feeling less full after dancing some of our dinner off at the club.
Hanging our coats and popping open the champagne that was on ice when we arrived, I pour two glasses. “Take a look on the balcony and you’ll see.”
Her gasp tells me she found the infinity hot tub on the deck, and I move to follow her and catch a glimpse of her surprise.
But fuck me. She’s the one doing the surprising.
My kitten has managed to unzip herself and drop her dress, showing me that she didn’t wear the lingerie I laid out for her because she’s not wearing anything.
Downing both glasses of champagne, I lean onto a deck chair as she slowly submerges herself in the water, looking every bit a siren in the moonlight.
“Come in with me?” she asks with a teasing raised eyebrow before tipping her head back into the water to wet her long hair.
I’ve given up trying to deny her, and I feel like a teenager again as I kick off my shoes and step into the water fully clothed, refusing to waste time stripping before joining her.
I crowd her against the edge, slowly placing one hand on her neck to hold her still while my other softly trails across her collarbone, dipping lower to slightly graze a peaked nipple.
I feel her sharp intake of breath against my hand as she tries to turn her head, and I tighten it, just a bit, to keep her where I want her.
Her fluttering pulse against my thumb makes me groan as I dip down to taste the nipple I’ve been teasing, before giving it a nibble and relishing in her squirming as I do.
Moving my hand to hold her jaw, I tease her lower lip with my thumb once, twice, before I can’t handle this torture a second longer.
I need to taste her more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.