Chapter 7
Beatrice
My hip was a dull, constant throbbing ache as we pulled off the road and on to the paved driveway of Tristan’s home. The sun was low in the sky as we’d driven through the neighborhood and I’d been surprised at how ordinary everything had looked. Just another suburb filled with ranch houses and the occasional log cabin or two-story home. Most of the homes had privacy fencing in the backyards, but a few had chain link instead. Lots of flowers, and flags, and toys were strewn about the various front lawns, giving the whole place a lived in feeling. And the yards were gigantic compared to what I was used to in LA, but other than that, everything looked completely normal. There were even kids playing in the streets and people taking their actual dogs for walks.
Me, of all the people in the world, had expected a stereotype and I felt rather dumb for believing on some level that I’d be driving into BDSM suburbia. Like there would be secret hints that people worked at the Ranch and may or may not enjoy the lifestyle. Sure, there were gay pride flags and the like, but I didn’t see any St. Andrew’s crosses in the yards we passed. Or nude subs being spanked on any front porches. If anything, most homes were really pretty, and you could tell that the people who lived there put some effort into keeping their place nice.
Tristan hit a button on the console of his truck and one of the doors to the double garage rolled up. He eased his big truck into the bay and hit the button again, the door rolling down behind him. On the other side of the garage sat a couple shapes beneath blue tarps and I wondered what they were. The garage itself was clean and well organized, and I wasn’t surprised to see a work bench along the wall with tools hanging from the peg board above in an orderly fashion. Tristan seemed like the kind of guy who would be handy with fixing and making things.
“Hold on a sec, let me come around and get you.”
I nodded, busy scanning the clean white walls of his garage. There were a few movie posters, mostly action movies from the 90s and early 2000s, along with a dart board and what looked like an air hockey table. All in all it was very much a bachelor’s garage. My phone chimed in my purse, but I ignored it.
I knew who it was, and I had no interest in talking with him right now.
The door swung open and Tristan helped me out, then scooped me up into his arms bridal style.
I gave a little gasp, not expecting the move, and clutched the shirt he’d put on before we left the University. “I can walk.”
“I know you can, but I like carrying you. You’re what my grandpa would have called a hell of an armful of woman.” He managed to shut the car door and open the door into the house without dropping me as he continued, “Besides, I like taking care of you, treating you right.”
“Still,” I muttered somewhat petulantly, my pain making me irritable, “I’m not an invalid.”
“How about this,” he brought me into a small cream and gold mud room then walked through it to what looked like a living room, “I’ll put you down and you can take off those deadly sexy, but I bet uncomfortable heels and you can walk all you want.”
With that, he walked across a nice-sized navy blue rug covering the hardwood floor to deposit me on a gigantic green-and-blue-plaid couch. Curtains that matched the couch were drawn back from the big bay window looking out over the front yard, and tall pine bushes shaded the room from the setting sun. Sheer curtains further softened the light, and as I took a deep breath, I could smell the hints of food and a smell that I associated with Tristan. Not a bad smell, just the musk of his body.
“Let me go get changed real quick,” he said as he headed to a hallway branching off from the living room. “I’ll be right back. Want me to grab you some ibuprofen?”
Tossing my purse onto the light wood coffee table I said, “I already took some, but thank you. It should be kicking in soon.”
“Be right back,” he called as he switched on a light and walked down the hallway. “Take your shoes off and relax.”
Doing as he suggested, I sighed and flexed my toes in the plush carpet of his living room, sinking back into the couch and closing my eyes. My mind was still going a million miles an hour, the thoughts racing so fast it felt like my brain was trying to process everything at the speed of light. I’d bounce from going over my impressions of my class, to how comforting it had been to have Tristan there with me as Diesel, to the dinner party with Derek and Sadie last night, and a million other things. But what kept coming up was my conversation with Gary this morning, and the texts he’d been sending me ever since.
My phone beeped in my purse again and I let out a small groan.
I’d have to talk to Gary eventually, but I honestly wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to him. Two million dollars was a lot of money, especially since I’d spent almost all of my savings covering the money my friends and family had lost on Dan’s crypto scam. If I did this last tour I could retire afterwards, and with careful money management, not have to worry about my finances for a long time. It would give me a lot of freedom and provide my crew with one last gig before I stopped dancing. I had my stage managers, costumers, makeup artists, choreographers, lighting crew… the list of people depending on me was endless.
I shifted as my hip gave a painful throb, reminding me that while my mind may be willing, my flesh was weak. The fear that I could permanently injure myself was very real. Sure, I could tone down my act, but people would notice if I wasn’t up to my usual form. My act was known for the various stunts and props I used like giant martini glasses filled with bubbles, trapeze swings, and doing tricks on the pole. If I was being paid the big bucks, they would expect me to perform up to my usual standards.The thought of spending months on the road again made something inside of me want to wither up and die.
Then there was the question of what I wanted to do after I retired. Gary was set on me going more mainstream, doing commercial television and movies, becoming more
“brand friendly” as he put it. And, as he liked to point out, I was quickly aging out of what Hollywood considered a “fuckable’ age”. It was misogynistic, but sadly true. While men were given the bonus of getting hotter as they got older, women were still viewed as just being old. Sure, there were female sex symbols in their fifties, but they didn’t look like they were in their fifties thanks to oodles of plastic surgery, injections, and personal trainers. While I wasn’t above admitting I used a little bit of Botox and the occasional lip filler, I didn’t want to spend every minute of the rest of my life worrying if I was starting to look too old to be hired for anything.
And I really, really loved teaching. Ideally, I’d be able to find a job at a prestigious school and spend the rest of my life in education, but I had to be honest with myself. The big schools were not going to hire a professor with BDSM sex tapes floating around. I might have gotten away with being a burlesque dancer, after all I never showed my nipples or vagina on stage, I stripped down to a g-string and elaborate pasties, but being a Dominatrix was a whole different kettle of fish.
Fucking Dan. Fucking Internet. Fucking society that condemned women for being sexual beings. Fucking world that made sex worse than violence. A man could be an abusive asshole and still be a rock star or a CEO, but if a woman was considered a slut, there went her professional opportunities.
And if I took the teaching job here, I would never be able to work at any other school. While the lifestyle was totally accepted at the Ranch, this place was a magical bubble. An isolated island of humanity where people weren’t judged by who or how they fucked. It was easy to forget there was a whole big world out there that loved to destroy people. That my mother would have to deal with the fallout of her whore daughter working at the Ranch. Who knows what kind of garbage she’d have to endure because of me. And I’d have to let all of my people go since I’d no longer be doing tours. Would they be able to find jobs? Many of them had been with me long enough that I’d gotten to watch their children grow up. Could I really turn my back on them?
“Are you asleep?” Tristan’s soft, deep voice interrupted my worrying.
I removed my arm from my eyes and smiled up at him. “No, I’m still awake. Just thinking.”
He sat down next to me, now dressed in a pair of blue and orange ombre swim shorts that revealed a great deal of his amazing thighs. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“It’s just a bunch of work bullshit,” I said, not wanting to ruin the evening. “You ready to hit that hot tub?”
“Well,” he said, stretching his arm behind me on the couch and pulling me into his side for a cuddle, “I was wondering if maybe you’d let me pamper you a little bit? You’ve had a lot going on, and I’d like you to just be able to sit back and relax. We’ll get to the hot tub, I promise, but I thought I might help you unwind first. Not saying that I won’t take a rain check on vigorous doggy style in the future, but for right now, I’d like to take care of you. It would satisfy me in a way that’s hard for me to describe.”
“I understand,” I said as I snuggled into his side, “and that kind of attention would be wonderful and appreciated.”
“It’s almost dinner time, are you hungry?” he asked as he slowly rubbed his hand up and down my arm.
“Actually, I am. I think I forgot to eat lunch. I was nervous about my class.”
He kissed the side of my head and I melted into him a little more as he said, “You were amazing. I mean, I know you’re smart and super talented, but watching you do your thing was like watching a master violinist play. You just have this energy and flow about you that makes everything you say interesting. And the way you lit up during the Q and A was awesome. I could tell you genuinely were interested in what people had to say, and your class could tell as well. You didn’t give them routine answers or generic garbage; you thought through what you said and brought your wit and wisdom to your replies. I bet you changed some people’s lives today.”
To my surprise I actually got a little misty eyed over his compliment. “Thank you, Tristan, that means a lot to me.”
“Not saying anything that isn’t true. You have a gift for connecting with people, you make them feel seen and heard. Doesn’t matter if it’s through your books, your dancing, or your teaching. You care deeply and it shines from you in everything you do.”
Now I was really in serious danger of bursting into tears, and I did not want to have a breakdown right now. “Okay, you need to stop being so nice. I can’t handle it.”
Instead of teasing me like I expected, or continuing on, he respected my wishes. “You got it, Mistress. Would you like something to drink? I’ve… uh, got a couple bottles of red wine, milk, juice, and a bunch of protein drinks.”
“As tempting as those protein drinks sound, I’ll take a glass of wine, please. Dry red if you have it.”
“Absolutely. Do you want to come hang out with me in the kitchen while I cook, or would you rather chill here?” he gestured to the big blank TV on the opposite wall. “You can watch whatever you want and just relax until dinner if that’s what you’d like.”
“I’ll join you in the kitchen,” I said as he stood up, then offered me his hand.
Examining me as I stood, he said, “So, uh, I’m making spaghetti and you’re wearing all white. Do you want to borrow something of mine to wear?”
Laughing, I gave him an obvious up and down look. “You have something that will fit me?”
“Well, I figured you could wear one of my t-shirts. On you, it’ll probably look like a dress.”
“In that case, sure. Now that you have me thinking about it, I’d like to put on something a little more forgiving than vintage linen. And Alfie would have a fit if I got spaghetti sauce on this.”
“Okay, one sec.” He hustled down the hallway before returning with a blue t-shirt with the name of a band I’d never heard of on the front. “The bathroom is the first door on the left. Or, if you like, I could help you get changed.”
He said the last part with a comical wiggle of his eyebrows and I smiled as I took the shirt from him. “I think I can manage.”
“You’re no fun.”
Leaning on my tiptoes, I pressed a kiss to his lips then whispered, “Oh, I’m a lot of fun… after dinner. Now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m suddenly starving.”
He returned my kiss, soft and gentle, before giving a mock bow. “As my lady commands.”
Laughing, I went in the direction he’d indicated and found a nice guest bathroom decorated in a seashore theme, complete with pictures of the beach hanging on the walls and towels embroidered with shells. For a moment jealousy struck me, and I wondered what woman had helped Tristan decorate in here. I mean, he could have done it himself, but there were just little touches that guys didn’t typically think about, like a matching seahorse soap dish and tissue holder. And a tiny decorative bowl filled with sea glass.
Chiding myself for being silly, of course Tristan had women in his life before I arrived, I quickly shed my clothes, but decided to leave on my stockings and garters. Just because I said no hanky-panky until after dinner didn’t mean I couldn’t tease him a little. Besides, I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time this morning picking out this lingerie set to tease him with. I’d tried to tell myself that it was because I always liked to look good from head to toe, inside and out, but the truth was I thought about Tristan the entire time.
I leaned forward on the sink, planting my hands on the edge of the cool white stone and scowled at myself. I’d only known Tristan for a few days; these intense feelings I had for him were merely lust. To think otherwise was just plain foolish, and I was far too old to be ruled by my hormones. So what if he was smart, funny, kind, and seemed to be an honorable guy? There were thousands of men like him in the world. Hundreds of thousands. I just… hadn’t met any of them despite all my travels.
I watched as my reflection started to tear up and had to look away. Damnit, I wanted to stay here. Not because of Tristan, well, not entirely because of Tristan, but because I needed a break. I’d been busting my butt for what felt like forever. I started dancing at Bingo Halls and local bars amateur talent nights when I was barely in my twenties, for God’s sake. I deserved a break.
But… I didn’t do it alone. I had a lot of help from great people along the way. Though I may be a solo act, I wasn’t a solo production. And two million dollars was so much money. Sure I wouldn’t get the whole amount, it would be divided among my staff, but I’d still have enough to be financially safe. In today’s world that was a dream not many people had access to. I’d be stupid to give it up… wouldn’t I?
“Shiiitttttt,” I whispered to my reflection, more tears coursing down my face and ruining my makeup.
With a sigh, I committed the cardinal sin of skin care and washed my face with the hand soap next to the sink. Looking like a sad clown with melting makeup was not on my agenda tonight, not when my time with Tristan might be so limited. I found an unopened bottle of lotion in the cabinet and set about cleaning off the remains of my mascara that the soap hadn’t been able to remove. Thankfully I hadn’t worn my fake eyelashes this morning, my romp with Tristan had cut my grooming routine short. After giving my mouth a good rinse with water, I began to feel that tingle of anticipation return. I was about to have dinner, then some fun with a man who made me melt. Those butterflies had returned to my belly, and I had to fight a silly grin. This was not good, this crazy sexual chemistry between myself and Tristan, but I couldn’t find the will power to care.
By the time I made it back to the kitchen, the savory scent of tomato sauce filled the air.
The kitchen wasn’t huge, but it was cozy with a cooking area separated from the round wooden kitchen table by a granite countertop currently cluttered with ingredients. There was a big double sink with a window above it looking out over the expansive backyard, and a sliding glass door that led out onto a cement patio with some mismatched rocking chairs. Outside the sun had begun to set, and beyond the edges of the tall privacy fence encircling the grass backyard, the sky was lit up in shades of mango orange, hot pink, and gold. The window was cracked open, and the distant sound of kids laughing and playing only added to the homey feeling of the kitchen.
Tristan stood before the stove, browning some ground beef while dark red pots steamed and bubbled. He wore a blue apron that appeared to have geese on it, and as I took a step into the kitchen from the living room, I noticed there were geese everywhere. Geese salt and pepper shakers, a picture of geese swimming in a pond on the wall, geese refrigerator magnets and a big ceramic goose cookie jar next to the coffee maker.There was even a goose soap dispenser and a trio of sculpted geese supporting a bowl filled with fresh fruit.
I had to say, out of all the things I had imagined Tristan collecting, geese was not one of them.
He must have sensed me entering the room, because he turned around with a smile that grew bigger as he caught sight of me.
“You,” he said as he turned down the heat of the stove and put the spatula in a goose-shaped spoon holder on the counter, “are absolutely adorable.”
I laughed as he crossed the room and swept me up, my toes dangling off the floor as he gave me a long, slow kiss.
“Thanks, and you were right, this shirt does fit me like a dress.”
His big hand dropped down to my butt where he gave me a quick squeeze before lowering me back to the floor. “You kept the garters on, nice.”
Smacking his hand away with a laugh, I took a step back and gestured to his apron. “So, you like geese?”
He rolled his eyes as he pointed to the counter. “I poured you a glass of wine, have a seat while I finish up. And I don’t particularly like geese, my mom does. When I moved out here she insisted on coming out and helping me decorate my new home. My apartment in Chicago was like a third the size of this place so it was kind of empty.”
I pulled out one of the carved kitchen chairs and picked up the glass of wine, taking a sip before replying, “She did a nice job.”
He shook his head with a laugh. “Come on, it looks like an old lady with a goose fetish lives here.”
“No, I’m serious. I mean, the geese may be a bit overboard but she has good taste. My mom did the same thing when I moved out to California. Though I didn’t have a house to decorate, just a shitty little apartment in a not-so-nice neighborhood. Her thing is apples. My kitchen had apple curtains, apple place mats, and apple salt and pepper shakers.”
He resumed cooking, disappearing from sight for a second before reappearing with a colander. “Funny you should say that, my guest bedroom has an apple theme.”
“No.” I giggled as I took another drink, longer this time. “You’re lying.”
“It’s true. Apples with horses. Don’t ask me why, my mom was born and raised in Chicago and is a city girl through and through, but she loves decorating with a country theme.”
We chatted about our family as we ate dinner, which was delicious, and I found myself having a really good time. Tristan had so many funny stories about his big family and I went through a glass and a half of wine before he suggested that we head out to the hot tub. After spending the last hour ogling his body, he’d put on a t-shirt while cooking because grease burns weren’t sexy, I was ready to touch. Those shoulders, that firm chest, his flexing arms, all of them were calling to me.
He was saying something about his favorite soda as a kid when I reached over and gently gathered the bottom of his t-shirt, fisting the tight material as I slowly raised it.
“Lift your arms up,” I instructed him. “I want this off.”
With his help, I had him bare chested in moments. Rising from my seat, I kicked the edge of his chair, indicating I wanted him to push back from the table. He answered my silent request and I stood before him, then slowly lifted my shirt to reveal the garters and black silk panties I wore. They had red roses embroidered on the hips that matched the ones on my garters. His hands twitched and he let out a long breath, his gaze focusing on me like I was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.
“I need you to take my lingerie off of me. I don’t want them to get ruined in the hot tub.” He started forward, but I raised my finger and he froze. “One more thing, how private is your back yard? I mean I can see that you’re a good distance from your neighbors, but is it private?”
His dirty smile sent a hot pulse of desire straight to my clit. “Very private. No screaming or anything like that, but I have a wall of ivy growing around the hot tub, it’s on my patio so we don’t have far to go. Besides, my neighbors both have single-story homes and no kids. No worries about anyone watching you from an upper window. We can do anything you want.”
“You’ve been such a good boy today, taking care of me.” I leaned forward and gave his smirking mouth a light kiss. “Now undress me and take it slow.”
He leaned back a bit and quirked his eyebrows. “How slow?”
“Worship me, but don’t bore me.”
“Oh, I think I can manage that. What do I have permission to do? Would you prefer that I only use my hands or…?”
“You can use your hands and mouth. I doubt your dick can take my panties off.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He gripped himself in that sexy way men did and gave himself a squeeze. “I’m so hard it aches.”
Standing before him, I put my hands on my hips. “You say the sweetest things. Now touch me.”
“With absolute pleasure.”
I wasn’t surprised when the first thing to go was his t-shirt. He whipped it off of me, then stopped completely. He came to his knees before me, and I hummed low in my throat as he slowly slid his hands up my outer thighs. Leaning forward, he licked along the strap of my garter, following it up to my hip where he took a moment to tease the sensitive skin there. His big hands slid behind me to my butt, grabbing big handfuls and squeezing gently.
Well, I had told him he could touch me however he wanted. And he wasn’t holding back. I kept forgetting how much of an Alpha sub he was until I felt his power at times like this. The way he clutched at me, the possessiveness in his grip, was a heady thing to experience. Here he was, this giant muscular man, kneeling before me and licking at my thighs like I was made of candy.
A moment later, my garters were unclipped in the back, and the sudden loss of tension on my hips was almost as good as taking a bra off at the end of a long day. Tristan kissed his way down my belly, then switched from thigh to thigh as he lowered the garters. I wanted his face between my legs, but I couldn’t give into my own base desires. A Domme denied herself for her sub’s pleasure. Or at least I did because I knew the stretching out of desire led to a much bigger orgasm. And I wanted to blow Tristan’s mind.
And his dick, but we’d get to that later.
“Lift your leg,” he said as he slid my stocking down my right leg, then my left. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
Whatever I was going to say was stolen from my thoughts and mouth as he leaned forward and lightly bit the mound of my pussy with a low growl. It was through the silk of my panties so it didn’t hurt, but it certainly woke up different nerve endings. He rubbed my legs as he leaned forward and nuzzled my pussy as much as he could. My legs were only slightly parted so he couldn’t get in far, but he didn’t need to. Instead he used one hand to pull my panties over to the side, enough to expose my clit.
Using the thumb of his other hand, he sat back on his haunches and watched himself play with me. He dipped his thumb into my wetness, then circled up to my clit with a little twirl that had me melting inside. I braced my hands on his shoulders, shamelessly groping his hard-as-a-rock muscles. I’d never been with a man who had the kind of strength that came from hard work and working out. His build wasn’t just nice to look at, he was strong and he proved it when he picked me up and carried me over to the couch without any effort.
He sat me on the edge of the couch, gently, and knelt between my spread legs. “Didn’t want you to fall.”
I had regained a little bit of my equilibrium during our walk from the kitchen to the living room, enough that I didn’t just shove his face between my thighs. “Very considerate. Now make me come.”
Okay, maybe I hadn’t regained my equilibrium.
“As my Mistress commands,” he said with a dark look that seared me from the inside out.
The acknowledgement of a powerful man that he wanted you, badly, but would follow your every wish and command made my whole body throb.
My focus slowly only became Tristan, everything else being zoned out as I flew into my Top space. Here, I was hyperaware of the man licking along the slit of my pussy with butterfly light strokes. I parted my legs, enjoying the bite of my panties cutting into my leg as he jerked them further to the side. Even the ache of my hip was a distant memory, something that couldn’t contend with the way my pussy pounded. I wanted to squirm, to do something to relieve the need blooming inside of me with such fierce heat.
“Put your tongue out,” I nearly growled. “I want to use it.”
He did as I commanded, and I grabbed the back of his head, pulling him to my center. Lifting my hips, I ground my clit onto his tongue. This rumbling, sexy growl came from deep inside his chest, and I loved how verbal he was with his pleasure. No looking for subtle cues or trying to read him. He was honest with his passion, with how much he enjoyed me, and it was such a turn on.
“Oh, Tristan,” I moaned as my fingers dug into the slight stubble on his shaved head, “like that.”
Those talented lips of his wrapped around my clit and his gentle, rhythmic sucking had my legs shaking. I probably would have fallen if I’d been still standing, because this man knew how to please me. When he pushed two fingers inside of me, I grunted, stiffening as he rubbed my g-spot lightly. My orgasm rushed over me, heat flushing my skin as my body tightened on his fingers. Licking my clit rapidly now, he had my head rolling back, my breath refusing to release from my body. The sounds I made were part moan, part tortured cry and I couldn’t stop myself from making them.
I had to push him away, my legs literally quivering, as he continued to feast on me.
“Enough,” I panted. “Sensitive.”
“I want to make you come again,” he growled as he wiped my juices off his face with the back of his hand, then licked it.“Please.”
My guard dog.
“You will, but first I want you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“Grab the butt plug out of my purse.”
He did a double blink, and I got a little thrill of smug satisfaction at watching him thrown off his game.
Turning away from me after giving me a slightly nervous look, he shuffled over to the table on his knees and took out my phone. “Hey, this was vibrating and it looks like you have some messages.”
“Ignore it,” I told him as my stomach briefly clenched and my worry from earlier tried to intrude. “It’s in the middle pocket of the purse, zipped up.”
When he finally pulled it out, he let out a sigh of relief that was so loud it was almost comical. “Okay, this I can deal with. I was afraid I was going to somehow pull a bowling pin out of here.”
Laughing, I motioned him forward. “I know you’re new to this, and I want to bring you pleasure, not pain. I want you to enjoy this and I want to show you how good it can feel.”
“And you want to someday violate me with a strap on,” he said with a teasing grin and he rolled the starter-size silver butt plug around on his palm. “I’m onto you, Mistress.”
“Violating you could be fun. We could pretend I was overpowering you, forcing you to like it. Maybe tie you up.”
The intensity bled back into his beautiful eyes. “Yeah, I would like that.”
“There’s some lube in there as well, grab it. Did you know they stock condoms and lube in all the bathrooms at the Ranch?”
Tristan laughed as he returned to his position between my legs. “How would you like me, Mistress?”
“Let’s get into the hot tub first,” I held out my hand and he easily lifted me from the couch. “Get you nice and relaxed.”
Looking down at his erection straining the front of his shorts, he grinned. “It’ll take more than a hot tub to get me to relaxed. I’ve never been so fucking horny around a woman before. All I have to do is smell you and I’m hard. Even after I’ve fucked you, I want you again just as much. I’m like a fucking junkie for your pussy.”
Shaking my had at him in mock disappointment, I said, “You’re like a filthy poet.”
“Sorry, would it be better if I said”—he adopted a nasal tone of voice—“my Lady Bee, would you do me the great honor of accompanying me to the hot tub and bouncing on my cock?” I smacked his ass hard, rolling my eyes when he growled in pleasure. “More.”
“You are a handful, come on, show me where this alleged hot tub is. You’ve been talking about it so much I’m beginning to think it doesn’t exist.”
Oh, but it did, and it was heaven. A standard four-person unit, it had reclining seats that cradled my body on a bed of pressurized jets. Bubbles floated up around me, and the lights that illuminated the water slowly shifted colors as I lay there, my hip finally relaxing. The bliss of not feeling pain made me heady as a now nude Tristan joined me in the water. He hissed and danced around a little before finally sinking in.
“Too hot for you?” I asked in a lazy voice that came out as more a purr than words.
Wincing slightly, he huffed and puffed as he sank further beneath the bubbles. “I swear women can bathe in lava without blinking an eye.”
Smiling at him, I reached over and entwined my fingers with his, the simple contact settling something inside of me. “Thank you for bringing me here, and for dinner, and for the orgasms.”
He smiled back, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand beneath the water. “You’re welcome, but I believe I’ve only given you one orgasm tonight.”
“So far, but that’s about to change.” I sat up a little so my breasts bobbed in the water, his gaze right away going to my dark pink nipples peeking out of the bubbles. “Grab that lube for me, I want to play with you.”