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She thrusts her middle finger up in the air.
I chuckle, letting her know I see her. “Be my good girl, baby. I’m not sure you’re ready yet to see what I do to you when you’re my bad girl.”
She deflates but says nothing.
“You’ll be here at seven,” I tell her. “Don’t eat dinner before you come. I have something planned.”
She doesn’t reply.
“Chloe?”
“Fine,” she rasps.
“Bunny,” I say, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight. You’re gonna cry out my name as I lap up all your sweet juices. And guess what?”
She doesn’t answer me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll feed you, too. With dinner and I’m also thinking I’ll paint my name down the back of your throat tonight, too. Seven o’clock, baby.”
I hang up and fire off two text messages. First, to my personal shopper. Second, to my sister’s chef friend.
Excitement pulses in my veins as I enter the apartment and set the two thermal bags of food on the table. The food will keep for an hour while I spend time with Chloe, which I’m anxious for, but I deny myself for a moment longer, long enough to pour two drinks at the kitchen counter. I carry them toward where I know she’s supposed to be waiting.
And she’s here. Waiting on my bed on her knees, sitting with her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. She’s wearing a little white and silver mostly sheer spaghetti-strapped number that immediately makes my dick hard. Her nipples are hard. My eyes travel to see the straps of matching panties underneath the layers of fabric that comes to her thighs. I notice there’s an open box containing a pair of matching silver heels on the bench at the end of the bed.
Her eyes are downcast, and her teeth are nibbling on her bottom lip. She followed directions with the lipstick. With her hair.
“I’m very pleased my good girl followed my directions. And on your knees, too? Mm.”
I set both drinks on the dresser.
She shifts so that now she’s sitting, legs folded on one side instead. A little bit of defiance. Her cheeks are pink.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Chloe,” I tell her as I shed my suit jacket and undo my cuffs. “Brought you a Jack and ginger.”
“No, thank you,” she says without looking at me. “I don’t drink when I need to drive.”
“Good girl,” I say, then add, “Gonna want another sleepover soon, though. We’ll schedule that.”
Her eyes meet mine with fire in them. “You don’t need to do this, do you? I mean… for real, Derek. Please help me understand why you’re doing this.”
“Because I want you,” I say simply.
“You can’t tell me you have difficulty finding women who want to…” she trails off.
“I don’t want just any woman, Chloe. I don’t want random. I just want you.”
Her forehead crinkles with confusion.
“You have no idea how under my skin you’ve gotten.” I take a sip of my drink, then remove my shirt as I kick off my shoes. Her eyes are on my torso. I stretch my neck and then go for my belt.
Her expression is filled with distress.
“Guess what’s for dinner, bunny.”
She shakes her head while shrugging and doesn’t meet my eyes. She’d rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else, I’d guess. But I’m going to change how she feels.
And the fact that my hands are on my fly hits me.
