Grace
Two years later…
“GRACE!” FLEA CALLED.
“Just a second,” I said, again.
“It’s been a hell of a lot more than a second.”
I giggled adjusting my dress. It was date night and we were meeting my family in Portland for dinner. Lordy, what a difference a couple of years made.
Flea and I had been married for nine months now and loving every second. Dad had walked me down the aisle and we were on the right side of a pretty healthy relationship. He’d even agreed to do some counseling with me which helped to solidify that bond again.
I hadn’t had a nightmare in over a year. Not coincidentally, they’d stopped the second I moved in with Flea.
Dad had married a really lovely woman, Maren, about eighteen months ago and I adored her. She reminded me a lot of Maisie, only she was southern and super funny.
And, speaking of marriages…Grams and Flick made their senior epic romance official a few months ago. I’d never seen my grandmother so in love, and Flick was besotted with her… and the cats.
Flea’s mom came around about six months in. Flea was pissed it took her so long, but since he’d helped to bridge the gap between me and my dad, I did my best to bridge the gap between him and his mom. So far, so good.
Cassidy’s conservatory was growing in leaps and bounds and I loved my job. I got to teach the little kids all the way up to high school, stepping in for Cassidy when she needed someone for the prima classes. I was the lead principal in the company now, and had a lovely partner, Esau, who was strong and swishy, and perfectly gay. This meant Flea didn’t worry about him grabbing my pussy. Apparently, Ace had freaked out on Cassidy years ago about the same thing, only her partner hadn’t been gay, which made it all the worse for her.
Due to shady practices, PBC had been shut down, and Director Walsh’s name and reputation were in the toilet. She’d apparently been milking her students’ families out of millions by padding teaching hours, dorm room expenses, and food services. Her assistant had kept an extremely accurate record of everything. Ms. Walsh had apparently pissed off the wrong woman.
Vitaly had been arrested on three counts of rape and deported back to Russia. I wished they’d kept him stateside, but one of the rapes was of a high-ranking official’s daughter in the mother land, so whatever punishment he would have received here was a cakewalk compared to what he got back home.
“Grace Isla Jameson, you don’t get your ass out here now, I’m coming in.”
I grinned and pushed open the door. “You don’t scare me, you know.”
He let out a quiet hiss. “Fuck.”
“You like the dress.”
“It looks like one of your tutus,” he said. “I fuckin’ love the dress.”
He was right, it did look a bit like a tutu. It’s why I bought it. Strapless with an organza and feather embellished skirt, it landed just below my butt, but I still chose not to wear panties. Something I’d tell him later. In public. Just to drive him crazy.
“Will you grab my shoes, please? They’re on the top shelf.”
“Yeah, baby.”
I headed to the windows and reached up to close the drapes when I felt his hand slide between my legs. “You forgot something.”
Okay, maybe I’d tell him now. In private. “I didn’t forget anything.”
His fingers dipped into me. “We’re gonna be late.”
“Do not tear this dress.”
“I won’t tear the dress.” He turned me to face him, tugging the sweetheart neck down and sucking a nipple into his mouth. “What do you want, Grace?”
I licked my lips. “Your hand on my ass.”
He pulled me to the bench at the end of the bed and sat down, guiding me over his lap. He slapped me gently once, then slid his fingers inside of me again. “Spread.”
I spread and he tapped his fingers against my pussy, pressing them inside again before smacking my ass. Hard.
“Yes!” I hissed.
Once more with his hand to the other ass cheek and then his fingers drove into me and I came apart.
He helped me to stand, dragged his jeans and boxer briefs off, then sat down again on the bench. I straddled his hips and he guided his cock into me before holding me tight and driving me down his length. I wove my hands into his hair and kissed him as I rode his cock until I knew I wouldn’t be able to wait.
“Get there,” I begged.
“Now, baby,” he rasped, and I let myself go, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and holding on for dear life as I caught my breath.
“Okay, so the dress works.”
He chuckled. “Little bit.”
He helped me stand again and I fixed my dress then cleaned up while he redressed.
“I’m going to have to wear panties, damn it.”
Flea wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed my head. “Pick a pair you don’t care about. Gonna rip them off you later.”
I shivered. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
I turned to face him, leaning up to kiss him. “Love how you take care of me, honey.”
“Love everything about you, honey,” he returned.
I grinned and grabbed panties, then he helped me with my shoes, and we headed out for what I knew would be a perfect dinner.
After all, I had my perfect man.