however you feel that…that’s the only thing I’ll ever ask of you. Don’t you ever think you owe us anything but the respect and love all family should give one another.”
She gave Daralyn a playful nudge. “Now enough of this. Go show my son how beautiful you are, so he can get tongue-tied, like he was the very first time he realized girls were something he might like.”
She winked, but she also ushered Daralyn quickly from the room. Daralyn noted the older woman’s eyes were suspiciously wet as she closed the door.
Daralyn took a shaky breath. She hadn’t meant to get all emotional—or do the same to Elaine—but it had just come to the top, how much of a miracle her life was, compared to what it had once been.
Yes, she was worried about tonight. But it was as Elaine said. She had people in her life who loved her, would stand by her. It was not something temporary that would disappear if she made a misstep. She would keep saying it to herself, over and over, until she believed it. They had earned that kind of loyalty from her. Their love was transforming her into someone who could finally believe like most people did, that her family—Elaine, Rory, Les, Thomas, all of them—were her family.
Nothing could take that from her.
Nothing could take that from her.
Please, please let nothing take that from me.
She started down the steps, holding the rail as she went so she didn’t tumble from the heels. Rory was still at the bottom of the stairs, as if he’d been listening for the sound of her descent. So she saw how he took her in inch by inch, gaze lingering as he made his way from her legs, to her waist, the curves of her breasts and bare shoulders, absorbing every detail of the dress and the woman wearing it.
Daralyn was hyperaware of that regard, but at the sight of him, she had to take a tighter grip on the banister herself. She needed to thank Marcus for browbeating Rory into getting a tailored suit.
The gray jacket was a lightweight wool fabric that fit and accented his broad shoulders perfectly. His gray striped tie was a bold stroke against the white dress shirt that molded to his chest, coaxing her fingers to touch. The fit of the slacks on his thighs and hips was equally inspiring, but the corsage in a plastic container resting in his lap distracted her from a more thorough perusal. A spray of tiny white roses and baby’s breath.
“You’ve never been to a prom,” he said, as she lifted her gaze back to his intent brown eyes. “You deserve the full treatment. And you look…incredible.”
He crooked his finger at her, a clear Master’s command that centered her. The shakiness of her outburst to Elaine melted away. She came to him and he glanced pointedly toward his feet, at the carpet runner. There was no danger to her thigh-high stockings, something she was sure he’d taken into account.
It wouldn’t matter to her anyway. She didn’t worry about it, or Elaine, or anything at all but what he wanted from her. When she sank to her knees, he reached out and trailed a finger over her bare shoulder, making her shiver, her lips part. Then he cupped the side of her face, pulling her closer to him while also tilting her chin away from him. The position allowed him to rest his mouth on her frantically beating pulse.
“Later tonight, I’m going to put you on your back and make you touch yourself in that dress. Bring yourself to climax while I watch.”
His fingers slipped away but he murmured to her to stay in that position, her head tilted away, chin pointed to her shoulder, as he fixed the corsage to the straight neckline of the dress. He caressed the curve of her breast beneath the fabric, exploring the edge of the strapless bra. As her lips parted at the stimulation, she felt his eyes on her. “I love how you respond when I touch you,” he said.
He guided her face back to him so she could meet his eyes. When he took her hand to lift her to her feet, he kept her next to his chair.
Sending a pointed glance upstairs, he winked at her, a reassurance that he was staying conscious of Elaine’s whereabouts. He slid a hand under the light skirt, up the length of her thigh to trace the lace top of