Humming softly, he doesn’t answer me right away. His eyes travel to the side briefly before moving back to mine.
“Not my partners, no. Now sometimes it’s necessary, especially after a heinous transgression, but I prefer to treat my women. To give them pleasure. That’s what I’m really into.”
Sighing in relief, the tension in my body eases from his answer. Now I’m really looking forward to my next research session, a Dom that enjoys giving pleasure sounds like a good time to me. Opening my mouth to ask one more question, he interrupts me before I can get the words out.
“I’m driving you home,” he states matter-of-factly.
Scrunching my face, I turn my ear towards him. His statement catches me off guard, I’m not sure that I heard him correctly.
“You’re what, Sir?” I ask.
“I’m driving you home. I need to make sure you make it to your apartment safely. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”
Shaking my head, I stammer as I try to wrap my head around this. He either really likes me and is serious about wanting to make sure I arrive home safely, or he’s a serial killer. There’s no in-between.
“But what about my car? I can’t leave it here,” I ask.
Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, he looks as cool as a cucumber. His being completely unbothered reminds me of just how wealthy he is. Only rich people are afforded freedom from the anxiety I’m feeling. I’m rather jealous.
“Give me your keys and I will make sure my family’s driver brings it back to your apartment. I promise you, it will be there before you even wake up. He’s been driving my family for the last twenty years, hasn’t gotten in one accident nor has he received a single speeding ticket. I promise you, it will be in good hands. But, on the off chance that something does happen, I’ll buy you a new car.”
Laughing from the absurdity of his response, I give him a disbelieving look.
Arching an eyebrow, his expression silently demands that I stop laughing.
“I’m serious, Dolly. I’m driving you home. End ofdiscussion.”
Nodding my head, my hand grips the cheap clutch on my lap. I think I need to relax just a little. Sutton Douglas, one of the most well-known men in all of Dallas, isn’t going to steal my run down, twenty-twelve Volkswagen Jetta.
“Good girl,” he praises.
Giving me a wink, he turns his attention towards the waiter as he steps up behind me. Addressing the teen with a tiny flick of his chin, he reaches out to take the black leather check presenter. Placing it down on the table, he reaches into his pocket for his wallet.
“Thank you, Ben, for taking such good care of us tonight. I’ll be sure to let your manager know how much of an asset you are to this fine establishment.”
Smiling wider than a jack-o-lantern, Ben bows his head. I’m sure his mind is filled with the thought of a huge tip and hope of a raise. I’m certain he will probably be receiving both.
“Thank you, Mr. Douglas. It was my pleasure serving you and Mrs. Douglas. I hope y'all have a lovely evening, and that y'all come back to see us again,” Ben chirps.
Opening my mouth to correct the young man, Sutton stops me with a purposeful clearing of his throat. Turning my head to look at him, he renders me speechless by a devilish, lopsided smile.
“Mrs. Douglas and I will most certainly be back, thewhipped cream on that strawberry shortcake is too good not to come back. Isn’t that right, Princess?” he asks with a wink.
I’ve heard of moments like this, but I thought they only happened in books or in movies. It’s like I’ve been living my entire life with blurry vision, and now I can see in crystal clear, twenty-twenty.Oh my God.This is it. I am going to marry this man.
“Uh, yeah! It was delicious, we’ll definitely come back,” I respond, trying not to seem phased by Ben’s honest mistake.
Nodding like a bobblehead, Ben lifts his hand in an awkward wave. Pleased to have done a job well done, he takes a step backwards and leaves us to ourselves.
Turning back to Sutton, my heart jumps straight into my throat. There’s a simmering hunger just beneath his pleased expression. He feels our destiny, too, I know he does.
“Well, then,” he begins, his deep voice effectively turning me into a needy mess. “I suppose I ought to get you back home,wife.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Sutton
God, her thigh is so fucking soft.
