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Nick’s quiet and when I twist so I can look at him, he’s got something of a guilty expression. “I thought you’d yell at me for that, and the heat of your anger would tell me how badly you wanted to return to Kansas. You convinced me. Without the yelling,” he admits with a small smile.
“Hmmph,” I pout at being manipulated instead of conversed with.
“My little mouse, I find you a delightful mystery. One that is very hard to read, unless you’re confident in your decision and then you turn into my very own saber-tooth mouse. Possibly even more adorable.”
I grimace at him. “Why do I always have to be adorable? When do I get to be sexy?”
He looks confounded. “They’re the same thing, Candace. At least where you’re concerned.”
They are so not the same thing! I mentally put this on my to-do list for down the road. Nick is still getting used to feeling loved, and that might take some time. And lots and lots of hugs. Not to mention random blow jobs, hot shower sex, and other fun surprises.
And there’s no time like the present. I finish my coffee and then slide off Nick’s lap and onto my knees. He instinctively reaches to pull me up like I’ve somehow slipped, but I shake my head at him as I part his robe. A few kisses to the head and his cock is like a heat-seeking missile, seeming to swell inside my mouth. “Candace!” Nick groans, but I ignore him. This time I manage to swallow his cum completely, not missing a drop. I’m fairly pleased with myself when he finally hauls me back up onto his knees.
“Fine, you’re my sexy little mouse. Nothing adorable about you,” Nick concedes out of the blue and I catch the wicked twinkle in his eyes. I blush slightly that my thoughts were so easy to read.
“Hmmph.” I stick my nose in the air. “Don’t be thinking you can use that to manipulate me into giving you blow jobs whenever you want.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” His tone is dry, but his eyes are smiling. I grin back, delighted to see him embracing life even if it means being teased.
Epilogue
I’m searching for sweet revenge in the form of a seductive neckline as I flip through the racks of dinner dresses Nick bought me in New York — all with the intent of stripping them off of me at some point during one of our ritual Sunday dinners. I’m looking for a dress that will drive him absolutely wild with lust. My punishment ends tonight, and I’m needy and desperate. And not in a good mood, if that didn’t give it away.
So yes, I finally found out what Nick considers punishment, and it’s not what you think. No spankings, or anything bad really at all. No, he simply and elegantly withholds his cock. Maybe not as bad as no sex exactly. I can have as many orgasms as I want (or he thinks I need) from him every other way. His punishment for scaring him by being late is that I’m not allowed to feel his cock in me, not even for a blow job for an entire week. I hate it. Not because of my own satisfaction, although that’s part of it, but because that’s when Nick comes the closest to losing control, to joining the rest of us mere mortals and enjoying himself. Enjoyingme. I’ve gotten used to it over the last six months since he moved his business back here to Kansas with me.
He’s diabolical in coming up with that. Because it’s very hard for me to argue with, although I did give it a solid try. I guess I’ll have to find a way to set an alarm in the greenhouses or something, so I don’t miss dinner again like I did last week. He had to come find me. In the pouring rain. I immediately felt guilty, but I still got a lecture on everything from tripping and falling in the dark to poor nutrition to… well, I tuned out the last twenty minutes, possibly why he banned my access to his cock. And because he’s mean.
Ah-ha, there’s a simple little black dress at the back that makes me look a bit like Audrey Hepburn. I slip it on, without underwear per our now ritualized rules, and find the long strand of natural pearls to slip over my neck. One time, when I was feeling particularly daring, I wrapped them around his cock and balls — pulling them taut and then rolling them against his most sensitive skin. I’m quite sure he’ll recognize them. Whether he’ll ask for a repeat performance remains to be seen. Nick never asks for anything for himself, which makes me slightly sad. Maybe the pearls will be his breaking point.
I leave my feet bare, although I did paint my toenails a brilliant shade of red earlier in the day.
The dining room is empty. I mean, really empty. Just the long table and a single armchair at the head of the table. That’s it. I pause, suddenly uncertain that the world is going to right itself on its access anytime soon.
Nick appears in the opposite doorway looking delicious in his usual Sunday evening casual tuxedo (yes, that’s a thing, at least for New York billionaires). “Nick?” I query since he’s obviously the one busy rearranging the furniture.
“You look lovely, Candace, but you won’t be needing that dress tonight.”
“I won’t?” So confused, am I eating dinner naked on his lap or something? Different.
“No, and this evening you are only to address me as Sir or Beastly One.” I gape at him and there’s no twinkle in his eyes. Something’s wrong. I gulp.
“Um, okay, eh, sir. What’s wrong?”
He walks me out of the room by my elbow towards the kitchen. “Someone muttered something about me being selfish and beastly this morning.” He pauses with a raised eyebrow in my direction. I flush. I’m sure I didn’t say that out loud, although I do remember thinking it. “And it occurred to me that maybe you hadn’t fully learned your lesson this week, so a little demonstration of whatisselfish and beastly might be in order.” He holds up a sheer white full-length apron that was laid over the counter. “Change into this. And only this,” he amends, eyeing my pearls. I stare at the apron and then at him. We don’t keep the house on the warm side. I’m always comfortable but it’s winter, and it’s definitely not walk around basically naked weather.
Nick’s expression softens slightly as he pulls open a drawer. “Then it also occurred to me that your sudden and unfamiliar mood swings and recent forgetfulness might be tied to pregnancy.” My eyes go wide again in shock as he hands me a pregnancy test. “All the more reason for you to understand that you need to be more careful. So, go change and pee on the stick, then bring it back to me. You have one minute.”
“Don’t they take longer than that?” I ask, frowning down at the small plastic stick.
“They do. That one takes five minutes, which is why it will be waiting in my coat pocket while you exercise your patience and obedience.”
He turns my shoulders towards the small half bath off the kitchen and gives me a gentle push. Am I pregnant? Nothing feels all that different. But losing complete track of time for two hours isn’t like me, nor is feeling like a brat. I chalked that up to sexual denial, but huh, maybe it’s a baby. Suddenly I can’t wait to know and I hurriedly strip out of the beautiful black gown and dutifully pee on the stick. It tells me nothing which I think is rude — it could spare a small hint at least.
Nick knocks on the door. Oh, this is going to be a long evening, isn’t it? I sigh and wash my hands, then slide the apron over my head. IknowI don’t have to. I could easily say no and forget all of this and all of Nick’s rules. But here’s the thing — have you ever done one of those relaxation videos where you clench all your muscles super tight and then relax and when you relax you go limper than you ever thought possible? Nick’s exactly like that. When I let him have tons of control and make silly but painless rules to begin with, when he lets go, he loses more and more need for that kind of control in the first place. So if I can give that to him, and let him find some peace, and know that he can trust me to stick no matter what, I’d wear far worse than an apron.
I open the door and hand him the test, which he wraps in a handkerchief before depositing it in the innermost pocket of his jacket while I tie the apron around my waist. It’s ridiculous and slightly obscene, leaving nothing to the imagination. I notice Nick’s lips twitch, but his expression remains stern.
“Your dinner is on the kitchen table. When you’re done, you will serve me mine in the dining room in three courses. You will stand by my side while I eat in case I’m in need of anything, including you. After you clear each plate, you will get on your knees and suck me off, then serve the next course. Understood?”
