When I can reach her, I set my hands on her hips and pull her between my legs. “What was it supposed to be like, Simone?”
“You were supposed to call me after I graduated, and then we were going to go on a date, and then we would have found out we were as compatible as we both knew we would be, and then you would have brought me here and we would have talked and negotiated, and then you would have dominated me and we were going to like our dynamic and fall madly in love and live happily ever after…”
She says all of that so fast it’s hard to follow, her voice rising with every new item on her list. In the end, she throws her hands up like duh.
I want to chuckle. She’s so fucking adorable. But this is serious to her. It’s no laughing matter.
“Now it’s all messy and ruined,” she says before pushing her lip out in a pout.
I pull her closer between my legs. “Baby, nothing is ruined. Not even close. There was a bump in the road for us, and I’m so fucking sorry about that. But you’re here. The first few items on your list got a bit wonky. I failed you when I didn’t call you. I should have. I’ll never fully forgive myself for hesitating to contact you.”
She gasps, eyes wide. “No. You don’t get to do that.” She shakes her head. “You don’t get to take the blame for some stranger attacking me.”
I shrug. “We can agree to disagree on that. It’s a fact. I didn’t call. If I had, all those things on your list would have happened in one day. You know it. I know it. I would have taken you on a date and brought you back here. We would have negotiated, and then most likely clothes would have flown around the room before I showed you exactly what it means to be mine in a way you never would have doubted or forgotten.”
She swallows hard. “See? It’s all fucked up.”
I narrow my gaze. “Enough cussing. I’ve given you a pass until now, but that’s expired. No more. You’re Little. Little girls do not cuss.”
She shivers, which tells me something. She’s been waiting for me to dominate her. “Yes, Sir,” she murmurs.
“So, we didn’t go on a date. We can do that. We can get dressed up if you want. We can go to a nice restaurant. We can pretend none of this happened and we’re spending our first night together.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to go out. See? It’s all messed up. I’d be looking over my shoulder the entire time, wondering if my attacker was also dining there so he could get retribution for me scratching him.”
“How about an at-home date? How about if we get dressed up and have a date in the dining room? I could order in fancy food, and we could pretend we’re at a fine restaurant.”
She shrugs. At least she’s not poo-pooing the idea.
“Simone, when you’re ready, we are absolutely going to negotiate, and then I’m going to dominate you. We’re both going to love every second of it and fall madly in love and live our happily ever after. Like I said, we hit a speed bump. We will get back on track as soon as we get the fender repaired.” I smile, hoping to soften her.
Her eyes are watery. “I’m messed up, Camden. It’s not fair to you. I go into my head when you’re not with me. I’m sucking the life out of you.”
“Simone Lighton, you are not sucking the life out of me. If you were, I’d say feel free to do so for the next sixty years.”
She leans the lower half of her body against me and fiddles with the front of my shirt. “Only sixty?”
I chuckle. “In sixty years, I’ll be one hundred and two. I don’t know how much more life you could suck from me at that age, but if you still want to be sucking me, I doubt I’ll turn you down.” I mince her words intentionally.
She finally manages a small smile. “And yet… If I wanted to suck you right now, you would turn me down.”
I draw in a slow breath. She’s killing me. “Only because I want you to make sound choices. I’m worried your head isn’t in the right place to decide to start giving me blowjobs.” I try to sound teasing. I’m not sure I succeed.
She rolls her eyes. I’m grateful I can finally see both of them. There’s still some bruising around one eye, but it’s much better. The bruises on her body are mostly faded, too. What’s left is the emotional trauma.
“I could probably give a blowjob if you told me what to do,” she mutters. She’s being serious. She’s never given a blowjob. She’s also being tentative because she knows I will turn her down.
I don’t want to hurt her feelings or reject her. Not at all. But I also would never want to do anything that might further traumatize my girl. “Blowjobs don’t really need instructions, Little one. But you’re not going to suck my cock today, either.”
She pouts. “Poop.” She’s not surprised.
“I know you spoke with Natasha about talking to someone. Quinten Odell. Would you mind if I called him?”
She slumps all the way forward and sets her cheek against my shoulder. “I guess.”
Good. We’re making progress.
I thread my fingers in her ponytail. “You’re mine, Simone. In sickness and in health. We’re still going through the sickness part to get it out of the way, but we’ll get through this.”
