Chapter 45
“You’re much quieter tonight than the first time we attended. Are you feeling okay?”
Thatcher’s head is in my lap, and I relish each of his delicious moans as my fingernails scratch his scalp. He’s been needy, and I’ve happily obliged him in every way I know how. Well, every way except one, but I plan on changing that tonight. Hopefully, I haven’t misjudged things.
He finally sits up and stretches, then turns to face me in the back seat of the car with a sly grin on his face. “I think if you look a little closer, you’ll find that I’m feeling more than okay.”
A glance down proves that he’s fine, physically at least, and I can’t help but chuckle. “Alright, you’re great. But really, any last-minute thoughts or nerves?”
Thatcher turns to the window, watching the city speed by, and places his hand on my thigh, palm up in invitation.
This is a gesture he’s picked up recently, a silent plea for my attention and touch, and it melts my heart a bit more every time he does it.
I happily oblige him, and he squeezes my hand before turning back to me.
“I’m excited. Definitely a little nervous, but more anticipation than anxiety. I haven’t been able to think of anything else all day. I…I hope I live up to your expectations.”
“Oh, solnyshko.” My sweet boy. “There’s no way you won’t. Just keep your manners in mind and remember to ask me discreetly if you need help or want to ask me a question. You’ll be perfect for me.”
And I have no doubt that he will. He looks sinful, dressed for the first part of our evening in an outfit I’ve had custom-made for his perfect body.
Thatcher isn’t hairy and brutish like many of my men, tattooed and scarred.
He’s unmarked, chiseled to perfection like my own Apollo.
The outfit I’ve chosen for him tonight accentuates his abs while still showcasing to anyone who dares look at him that he’s mine.
His suit pants are tailored tightly to his ass, showing off how hard he works on and off the ice.
Suede loafers add a bit of flair, and pride surges through me to think of how pleased he was to see my crest embossed in gold fabric on his shoes.
His suit jacket features subtle gold accents and is open to reveal my favorite feature of the outfit.
Rather than a pristine white dress shirt, Thatcher’s jacket falls open to reveal his washboard abs, perfectly accentuated by a harness. A custom harness loops around each shoulder, underneath each pec, and then bands twice across his trim waist. I don’t think he’s noticed the missing attachment.
“You look like you’re going to eat me alive. I can’t wait.”
I snap my mouth shut. I’ve been ogling him for so long that we’re already pulling up to the venue. Pinching Thatcher’s cheeks together into a pout, I relish the heat in his eyes before pulling him in for a brief, hot kiss. “That’s exactly my plan, solnyshko.”
“You must come see us soon.”
“We’d love to have you for another exhibition. My pet’s been asking for your whip for years.”
“Any time, we can reserve a stage for you!”
Fuck me, I hope my plans for tonight make it clear that I’m off the market for play with anyone else these days. For good.
“Thank you all. But I think it’s obvious why I’ll be staying in more often. As you can see, I have exactly what I need at home.”
And I do. The appreciative sigh that the group exhales echoes what I’ve heard constantly in the hour that we’ve been here. Everyone is basking in Thatcher’s golden glow and complimenting his behavior.
He’s exceptional, just as I knew he would be. When we talked about how tonight would play out, I wondered if he would enjoy the dynamic as much as he thought he would. He knows himself, though, and I never should have doubted him.
“I don’t want to have to talk to people and schmooze.
I just want to be able to take it all in and relax.
You’ll know if I need anything. It’s exhausting going to all the media events for the team, and even though I enjoy meeting people, I really don’t want to at the club. It’d be nice to just exist and…”
“And?”
“And let you take care of me.”
His honesty and his precious blush earned him multiple rewards that night, and he’s well on his way to having another gold star for his sticker book based on his behavior here.
My rules were simple: keep physical contact with me all evening, look around as much as you’d like, but don’t make eye contact with anyone, and don’t speak.
He’s been perfect, standing demurely behind me as we made our rounds through my acquaintances and never moving his hand from me once.
I’ve been working on accepting touch in increasingly intimate situations, and it’s been comforting to have his warmth on my hip all evening.
Finally dodging the last chatty fan, I lead him away from the group of fans who had gathered around us and head for our dressing room off the main stage.
Feeding Thatcher bits of fruit and checking in to make sure he’s still feeling well helps me settle further into my Domme headspace.
It’ll be our turn soon, and for the first time in a very long time, I’m apprehensive about being in the spotlight.
I feel confident that he’ll be thrilled and fulfilled, but—
“Miss Taranova? Are you ready?”
The interruption comes at the perfect time, forcing me out of the last thoughts I’ll have tonight that aren’t solely focused on Thatcher and his pleasure.
Calm washes over me as I stand before him, running my hands through his hair and pulling his gaze to mine.
His dreamy, glazed eyes show me just how floaty he already is, and I can’t wait to show everyone how much he means to me.
“Well, solnyshko? Are we ready?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”