Kita

I feel like a princess.

All night, every eye in the place has been on us. I've never experienced this sort of thing before, being scrutinized in public. It's a very strange feeling, and something I thought I would have hated. As an only child, I'm accustomed to privacy. When I went into foster care, keeping to myself was a good defense when the world got so strange.

But here, under the shelter of this enormous, handsome, overbearing man, I feel completely different.

When the hostess walks us to our table, I feel eyes turn toward us. Every gaze is like drops of water sizzling on a hot griddle. Turning into steam. It is electrifying.

Instead of wanting to shrink, I sort of want to shout. As we walk across the small dance floor, it takes everything I can do not to bounce a couple of back flips, just to show off.

He gives me strength, I guess is what I'm saying.

As we sit, the way he is looking at me just lights me up even further. I love having his eyes on me, the way that his gaze skates across my skin, settling into the shadowed parts of me. I think this is what people call undressing you with their eyes. I feel it.

I mean, I don't feel it yet, but I'm starting to think I might.

He orders for us, and I just smile at the waitress as she squints me judgmentally. I don't mind. Yes, this is my very handsome man. Yes, I deserve this.

I do, right?

Yes, I do.

We talk for a little while about our lives, sharing things I don't know if I have ever shared with anyone. I get the feeling it's the same for him, that he probably doesn't talk about his life very much either. It makes me feel special that he would share this with me. That he’d share anything with me.

Maybe everything?

I tell him way too much, probably. I should probably be more cautious about telling somebody who obviously worked in military intelligence that my mother was deported for being a spy, or so they said. But to be honest, I don't think that's true. She got swept up in some kind of embezzlement scheme that her boss was executing, and because she was an immigrant from Russia, they just assumed that her conversations with my grandmother and other relatives were involved in the embezzlement. She told me they weren't, and I believe her.

I mean, I almost believe her. I want to, certainly. But since I've never been able to find her again…

Anyway.

As he's talking, I want to be closer and closer to him. I'm getting more and more nervous, more and more eager to touch my skin against his. I find myself tapping his arm every chance I get, trying to draw the connection even closer.

When he tells me that he hasn't had another woman in his life for five years, a cool breeze of relief rushes through me. I didn't even realize I was worried about that, but it is extremely nice to know that there's not another woman who's going to mysteriously pop up and wake me up out of this beautiful dream I'm having. It feels sort of clean, in a way. Like he's purer than I assumed. And almost seems impossible, because he's just so… handsome.

“Well, I've never, you know...” I falter, not sure how to explain it to him. His hazel eyes search mine, then narrow slightly. He's puzzling it out. He's curious what I mean.

I can see the realization dawn on him, almost watch it frame by frame like a movie in slow motion. As he realizes that he's the only man that's ever been in my life romantically, his expression moves from shock to something like… desperation.

He pulls on my arm, drawing me in close. His breath is hot and urgent in my ear.

“We need to leave, now,” he grunts, and I can smell that something has changed about him. Something has ripened into a feral, animal musk.

I wonder if everyone else can smell it too as we hurry out of the restaurant. He thrusts his claim ticket at the valet and grunts, not even seeming to care anymore what people think.

It makes me feel incredibly powerful. Look what I've done. He wants me, there’s no doubt about it.

All the way the home, I keep my hands stuffed between my thighs. I'm quaking with excitement, practically bursting.

He keeps his hand on my leg as he drives, sliding his fingers underneath the thin fabric in between shifting gears. He says almost nothing, completely focused on directing us back homeward.

As soon as the Aston Martin is back in its spot, he rushes around to my side and opens my car door again. I love that— what a gentleman he is. I stretch my legs out the door and his eyes follow them, then come back to meet mine.

“I love that dress on you,” he growls, the strain of desire clear in his voice.

I simply arch my back slightly, tapping my toes a little bit so he can look at me. My shyness is melting away, bit by bit. All I can think about now is letting him undress me, letting him take the thing I've never given to anyone before…

We rush upstairs, breathless and focused. When we get into his room, he suddenly stops.

“Okay, let me just… can you wait for just a moment?”

I shift from foot to foot uncertainly. “Yes, of course,” I stammer, confused.

He bolts from the room, returning in a few moments with pillar candles and a long, automatic lighter. I press my fingers to my lips to keep from laughing as he places them around the room, lighting each one impatiently.

“Are you laughing?” he asks me. “Is this sort of ridiculous?”

“No, it's amazing!” I object, and I mean it. I don’t know how he could wait, but when they’re lit, there’s a soft, ethereal glow in the room. I know he’s trying to make it special for me, which means everything.

“No… you’re amazing,” he says as he comes to me, gathering me in his arms. As our lips meet, the taste of the wine mingles with the hormonal tang of desire. As he presses against me, I can feel the steel of his erection, how much he wants me. I want him too, so much.

In the flickering candlelight, I shiver as he reaches behind me to unzip my dress. It tumbles to the floor, puddling around my ankles as he steps back to look at me. Shivers race across my skin as his eyes seesaw back and forth, taking me in. I try not to cover myself, but I can feel his gaze like a breeze, sweeping back and forth across my breasts, giving me goosebumps.

“You're so beautiful…” he murmurs, his voice thick.

My heart beats wildly and I try to breathe as slowly as I can, waiting. Waiting for him to finish drinking me in with his eyes. Waiting for him to make a move.

“Lay down on the bed,” he says. It sounds like a command.

For a moment, I'm a little confused. I realize that I don't know what people do when they do this. So I just follow his instructions and lay with my head on the pillow, my hands pressed flat beside my hips. I watch him as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, his gaze never leaving my body.

As his shirt slides over shoulders, I bite my lip to keep myself quiet. Every time that I see him, I'm startled by how beautiful he is. The thick ropes of muscle, the masculine outlines of his form. His incredibly broad shoulders, tucking into a narrow waist that disappears into the top of his trousers. The rows of abdominal muscles that end in a V that points down, down, down.

I hear every metal tooth on his zipper as it comes free, and when his pants slide down his thick thighs, finally he is standing there, completely naked, utterly magnificent.

I begin to tremble uncontrollably as he slides in next to me, his weight shifting the mattress so drastically that I roll into him a little bit. I'm suddenly cold and snuggle closer, drinking comfort from his warmth.

He takes my shoulder pushes me back slightly, forcing me to meet his eyes again.

“Are you sure?” he asks me.

I nod tightly. I am throbbing with longing for him. My body is on fire.

“No, Kita, I need you to say it. Tell me.”

“I’m sure,” I whisper, my voice rough and shuddering.

But when he leans into me to kiss me, I'm even more sure. My hand snakes around his back, pulling him on top of me. I want to feel him everywhere, to feel his weight pressing me down. My knees automatically open and my ankles hook around the small of his back.

He clenches his jaw, lining himself up to me. I feel the head of his cock slipping along my furrow, sliding easily through the gushing wetness there.

“You feel that? What you do to me?” he asks me.

I nod, urgently. “Oh my God, it's so good!”

“Yes, Kita, it's amazing,” he agrees as he works his cock against me, gently prodding, pushing gently, firmly, against my tight entrance. I feel his thumb flickering against my clit, making my belly twang suddenly with desire so intense it's almost painful. When I draw in a gasp, he looks concerned.

“Am I hurting you? I don't want to hurt you…”

“No!” I bark. “You're not hurting me, I promise. I want it so bad. I want it so much… Daddy.”

His eyes open wide. He kisses me again urgently. His tongue plunges into my mouth as he pushes a little bit harder with his hips, almost breaching my entrance.

“Yes, yes,” I moan into his mouth. “Daddy… I want it.”

And again, that word just eggs him on further. He groans deeply, pulsing against me but holding back still, I can tell. I just need to push him a little further…

“Yes, please,” I beg him, “fuck me, Daddy!”

Then a dam bursts in him, and with a roar he arches his back, thrusting harder into me. I feel my body give way, opening up for him and taking him all at once. I feel so full, stuffed almost to bursting. Parts of me feel stuffed and satisfied in ways I did not ever realize they were empty.

But still I want more.

My ankles lock behind him, pulling him to me. I can't get him close enough. Our bodies begin to piston slowly together, rocking and mashing, sliding together like we were made to be this way.

Soon I can’t breathe. The tension builds and builds. And then suddenly, an explosion. Orgasm crashes through me, cracking me like a force of nature. I clasp around him and he reacts instantly, plunging all the way to the hilt and holding there. It’s almost too much but I take it all. I feel him lurching, crying out as his seed fills me hotly, wetly, almost to overflowing.

We hold each other for long moments, blissfully rocking back and forth in what feels like a silvery ocean of peace. I've never known anything like this, the satisfaction, this surreal sort of bliss.

He rolls halfway over, still holding me tightly to him. I fit perfectly in the concavity of his body, happy to be wrapped around him as he slowly softens and dislodges from me. Instantly, I want it again. I want to start all over and have him over and over again until I can't stand it anymore.

But as I slip into sleep, I'm satisfied with the idea that this is not the only time. This is just the first time. And we have so many more wonderful times to come.