As we pull off the freeway, turn onto the main drag, onto the road that leads only to the mansion.
Through the gate.
All the way to the garage.
I park.
She nearly jumps out of the car. She leaves her clothes, her camera, her purse. Moves into the house, through the foyer, the empty kitchen, the big open ballroom.
"Where?" Danielle looks to the stairs, her bedroom, my office. The study down the hall. The gym. Even the quiet, dark garden.
"Where?" I play dumb.
"Where will you fuck me?"
"Did I say I'd fuck you?"
She turns to me. Pulls her dress over her head. Undoes her bra.
She's standing in the ballroom in only her black boots.
She's fucking divine.
"I should punish you for that," I say.
"Then do it." She stares back at me, defiant, proud, beautiful.
I close the distance between us. Wrap my arms around her.
She groans as my fingers brush her hips. Yelps as I take her into my arms.
I hold her to my chest and carry her up the stairs.
Down the hall.
To her bedroom.
I lay her on the soft white sheets, then I spread her legs, unzip my slacks, fuck her until she's groaning my name.
She comes twice.
Pulls me over with her.
I linger in her arms until I'm too stiff to stay still.
She peels her body away from mine, cleans and dresses in the bathroom, whispers good night and slips into the study.
I don't expect to miss her, but I do.
I change into my pajamas, find something to read, retire to my room.
An hour later, she knocks, slips into my room, into my bed. Whispers, "Can I stay with you tonight? Please."
I expect my head to step in, say no, make some excuse. But I don't. I bring my hand to her cheek, I pull her into a slow, deep kiss, and I whisper, "Yes."
I wake to the orange glow of sunrise and the sight of Danielle in my bed. She's sleeping on her side, her arms wrapped around a pillow, her expression serene.
She looks right, draped in my silk sheets. In my bed. In my life.
I linger for longer than I should, watching her chest rise and fall with her breath, soaking in the warmth of her skin.
Then I move through my morning routine—run, weight training, shower.
She rouses as I step into the room. I'm in a robe. It covers the parts I can't let her see.
But something inside me is desperate to shrug the fabric from my shoulders.
Take it off, Mr. Broodypants. She wants to fuck you. You want to fuck her. Jump on that bed and ride her like a stallion. Is stallion the metaphor I want here? No, that was a simile.
We're getting distracted, Adam.
This isn't an English lesson.
We're not writing poetry.
But if that's what you need—
Danielle is a total freak
No more excuses
Make her come. Do it again.
That's a haiku, Adam.
If it's a haiku, it must be true.
Get on it.
Danielle lets out a soft yawn. "Hey."
"Good morning."
"I like this look." She stretches her arms over her head. "The most casual I've seen you."
"In a designer robe?"
She nods. "I know. It's ridiculous. Are you going to wear a suit today?"
"What else would I wear?"
"It's Sunday."
I raise a brow.
She smiles. "Jeans and a t-shirt."
"It's January."
"Jeans and a sweater."
I motion to the closet. "Pick them out."
"Fifty bucks says there are only suits in here." She slips out of bed and pulls the closet door open. "Ha, should have waited for you to agree."
"Do you really need fifty dollars?"
"I wouldn't turn it down." She rifles through the suits hanging in the closet. "Navy. Black. Charcoal. Slate grey. More grey. You've got a lot of grey."
"It suits me."
"It does." She turns back to me. Looks me over carefully. "And the blue ties. They bring out the blue in your eyes. But not really my color. If I'm wearing them in an… unconventional way."
"Oh?"
She bites her lip. "Are there casual clothes in the dresser?"
"I can't answer that."
"No?"
"Not if it's going to keep me from wrapping that tie around your wrists."
She smiles. "You can do it anyway."
"This way is more fun."
She moves to the dresser. Checks the drawers for casual clothes. There are jeans, slacks, sweaters, even a few t-shirts. "Have you really worn this?" She pulls out a pair of jeans and a blue sweater.
"At some point."
"I can't imagine it. I think… I think you wear that suit all weekend."
"Usually."
"Why?"
"Years of boarding school uniforms. I'm used to it."
"What about the college rebellion?"
"It didn't last."
She smiles. "Okay. Wear whatever calls to you. As long as the tie is involved later." She sets the jeans and sweater on top of the dresser.
"You're not styling me for another shoot?"
Her eyes go wide. "Would you?"
"After how the last one ended? Angel, are you really not sure?"
Her cheeks blush. "I, uh… right… I… Yes. I would. But I have to show you the images first. And edit them. And I… fuck, now I don't know if I should mount you here or ask you to save the energy for later."