"Nothing," he says matter-of-factly. "You look gorgeous.”
I’m so fucking confused. I thought I was doing what he wanted. “I don't understand.”
He beckons me over. After a moment’s hesitation, I come to stand between his knees with my hands wrapped in his. “Would you be wearing this to bed if you were by yourself?" he asks.
Of course, I wouldn’t, but he is here, and I want to look nice for him. I shake my head.
“Then you don’t need to wear it for me,” he says. “I apologize if this is confusing. I want to see who you are when no one’s looking. Now be a good girl for Daddy and put on your PJs.”
A warm shiver rolls over my skin like ripples across a pond. I can’t explain my desperate need to be Brian’s good girl, but I don’t need to understand it to do what he asks of me. I begin searching through my suitcase, frustrated to find that the only pajamas I packed were my pink unicorn shorts and matching tank top. Wash-worn clothes I've owned since I was fifteen that barely manage to fit me.
There’s no way he can prefer these old rags to sexy lingerie.
I change quickly, facing the bed like before. When I turn around, Brian is wearing a smile that makes me want to squeeze my thighs together.
"You look adorable,” he says, and though his tone is genuine, I roll my eyes.
His gaze darkens. "Tell me you didn’t just roll your eyes at me, little girl." He abandons the chair in favor of towering over me. “Are you going to tell me what’s so silly, or am I going to have to tickle it out of you?”
I’ll admit, the thought of his fingers skittering up and down my body isn’t the worst idea ever, but tickling makes me flail uncontrollably. If he wants to walk out of here without a black eye, he might want to tie me down first.
Jesus, what is happening to me?
"I don't want to be adorable,” I tell him. “I want to be sexy."
"You're allowed to be both, Ruby.” He strokes my cheek. “You're allowed to be whatever your heart desires."
He pulls me into a hug, pressing his lips to my temple. I melt against him and sigh. I still don't know exactly what this is, or what he really wants from me. He hasn't tried to kiss me on the lips, and he’s still wearing all his clothes, while I’m here looking like I just rolled out of Baby Gap.
“Now go brush your teeth,” he says.
Brian stands in the doorway as I wash my face and brush my teeth. I lift the toilet lid, and he takes the hint, giving me some privacy—but not before he says, “Someday you’ll feel comfortable sharing everything.”
Returning to the bedroom, I can see he’s already turned down the covers. He fluffs the pillows and gestures for me to crawl into bed. I slip under the sheets, and he lays the blankets over me.
“Goodnight, Miss Ruby.”
Finally, he kisses me on the lips.
It’s a sweet kiss. A chaste kiss. One that leaves me longing.
Brian turns off the overhead light, leaving the bedside lamp on, then takes off his suit jacket before coming to stand by the bed. His hands are hidden inside his pants pockets, and though it could easily be a trick of the light, I swear his slacks look tighter in the crotch than they did a few minutes ago.
"What else would you be doing now if I'd simply dropped you on your doorstep with a kiss on the cheek?"
Honestly? I would be touching myself.
The fact that he assumes this makes me want to duck under the covers and hide. But there’s another part of me—a deeper, darker, nastier part—that wants to show him exactly what he does to me.
I slide my hand between my thighs.
Brian’s gaze drops from my face to where my hand is moving under the blankets. I rub myself through the fabric of my shorts, up and down over my lips, in light teasing strokes.
Pleasure erupts from deep inside me, and I rub harder to keep it spilling out. Brian touches a hand to his mouth, and that’s when I look down and see his cock pushing at the front of his pants. The only part of me he can see clearly is my face, but the awareness of what I’m doing beneath the covers is enough to make his cock want to challenge the strength of his zipper.
Slipping my hand into my shorts, past the red thong I decided to leave on, I find myself sopping. My clit is slippery and hard against my fingers. It almost hurts too much to touch it directly.
I spread my legs wider. Brian cups himself through his slacks, and I nearly come at the possibility that I might get to see his cock. I've never seen one in real life, and I want to get a look at Brian's so badly. Not least of all because I’m the one who made it hard.