“I'm fine. I think I'm just tired after an odd week,” she says.
I stand and move toward where she still stands stock-still in the middle of the room and rest my hand lightly on the middle of her back. Fuck me, she's so tiny compared to my hand, and so warm, and she smells like coconut and vanilla.I gently lead her toward the rocking chair I just vacated. Sitting her down, I drape my leather jacket over her lap, enjoying the way it dwarfs her, almost like it’s an actual blanket. I stay kneeling in front of her, thinking about how glad I am that while she’s relatively petite compared to me, she has perfectly sized hips.Iwouldn't want my inevitably huge babies to hurt her any more than necessary.
“Tell me about your odd week,” I say, continuing to kneel in front of her so that we're eye to eye even with her sitting in the chair. As much as I try, I can't resist giving her a tiny smirk as I wait to hear how she’ll characterize all the little conveniences she's experienced this week.
Just a taste of how her life will be once she understands that she's mine.
She cocks her head when she sees my smirk, raising one eyebrow and looking at me like she's trying to see inside my brain.Look as hard as you want, Angel. The sooner you understand where we stand, the sooner we can move you in and start our life together.
“Well,” she begins, “my luck started out last weekend with someone bringing me food and sending me books and quite a number of things that have been languishing in my online shopping carts and wishlists.” She gives a soft smile, and I wonder which delivery she's thinking about. Maybe the luxury cashmere cat pajama pants that she's been eyeing for at least six months, based on her search history. Or perhaps the certificate that a donation had been made in her name to the county humane society as a result of my seeing her search how to help them after a small fire at one of their kennels. She doesn't need to know they have operating costs covered in her name for ten years. We’ll save the dedication of the Sloane Sinclair animal shelter until after she's changed her last name.
“Then, toward the end of the week, my boyfriend, Dean, came over with my favorite snacks, and we cuddled on thecouch and watched movies all night,” she says, and a wide grin splits her face when she sees my entire demeanor change.
I'm unable to control my reaction to that mental image even though I know from reading her texts and tracking Dean’s truck that he was nowhere near her apartment. She sees the few moments it takes me to get myself under control, and it seems to amuse her when I try to affect a neutral mask and move the conversation past her lie. I've seen her school records, and I know exactly how smart my angel is, but I didn't necessarily expect her to catch on to my scheming so quickly.
I manage to growl out, “Well, I'm glad you had such a great week.”
“Thank you,” she says too sweetly, still giving me the grin that tells me she suspects far too much when it comes to my machinations in her life this week.
I realize now that it's almost eight o’clock and likely that the rehearsal in the main hall is wrapping up. Sloane has the same realization and stands to gather her things and leave.
She gives me one more look like I'm a puzzle that she can’t wait to solve, and tells me she'll see me next week.It'll be much sooner than that, baby.
Once she's left, I wait until her phone gives me the notification that she's driving, and I know she won't read any texts for at least twenty-five minutes.
I snap a picture of the motorcycle onesie and send it to her.
Me:
I think you forgot something,Angel.
Feeling like I've had an incredibly successful night, I carefully roll up the onesie, tuck it into the pocket of my leather jacket, and head out to my bike for a ride filled with thoughts of Sloane and the next phase of my plan.
Angel:
Ledger? How did you get my number?
Oh, I’m in. I’m setting a countdown right now, but I give myself less than a month until my angel is begging for my cock.
The kitchen renovation is in full swing. I’m going to have to bring more people in to make sure this gets finished quickly so that they can start working on putting in space for a nursery. I’ve taken many precautions throughout the years to make sure children haven’t been the result of my sexual encounters, so I didn’t buy this house with a nursery in mind. I think if we knock out a few walls, we can add one close to the primary bedroom, though. I’m sure Sloane will want the baby close by for a while.
I’m lost in a fantasy of her growing large with my baby when I get a call from Jack. Oh shit, the club. I haven’t thought about the club in days. I’ve been filling my time monitoring my future wife.
“Jack, what’s up, man?”
“You okay, Boss? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you about the upcoming events at the club.”God, I hate it when he calls me Boss.
I look at my missed calls, and lo and behold, there are several from Jack.
“My bad, I’m actually headed there now. If you can hang tight for a couple of hours, we can iron everything out when I get there.”Fuck.I wasn't planning on going to the club tonight. I think I forgot I owned a sex club.Double fuck.How is Sloane going to feel about owning a sex club? She hasn’t ever even had sex. I don’t know if she’s ever touched a dick before. Her being curious and watching some rough porn doesn’t equate to wanting to have any involvement in my kinky enterprise.
I guess I can sell the club and focus on my more respectable companies. I can do that for her. But I have to at least tellher about it, and I don’t know how she’ll take that. She doesn’t actually know anything about me. And just because I knowand adoreeverything about her, doesn’t mean she will reciprocate those feelings when she learns about who I really am. When she learns that I’m not some churchy guy from a suburban family. That I’ve done almost every drug on the market at some point. That I’ve fucked more women than I can count. Will she care that I’ve nearly killed some of the biggest, meanest men in the ring just to take out enough aggression to function like a normal person? Will she be comfortable being alone with me when she sees what my opponents look like after a few rounds in the cage?
She’ll have to be.
She ismine.
I pull up at the back of the club and discreetly make my way to the office, trying my best to avoid seeing any of my regular play partners, then shoot Jack a text letting him know to meet me as soon as he gets a moment. While I wait, I look around at my office and the lack of personality. Two comfortable brown leather chairs face my desk, and a matching couch is positioned against the wall behind them. I don’t bring anyone here for fucking purposes, but I wanted there to be enough seating for the staff to be comfortable when we have meetings or if they need to just vent.
