Love.
To.
Me.
Not bossy, not dirty, not an exercise in control. I got to touch, taste, lick, do what I wanted to do and so did he (as usual). It was slow, lazy, gentle.
And beautiful.
Honestly, I didn’t know he had that in him. He told me he could do normal, gentle. But after a week of what we’d had, I didn’t really think about it. I expected since I was giving it to him the way he liked, he’d take advantage of it.
And he did.
But he woke up in a different mood that morning and gave it to me sweet, letting me give it back. I loved it and from what I could tell, he did too.
This meant I had it all from Knight, at least in bed. Scary, crazy, hot. Adventurous. Consuming. Excruciating. Exciting. Unexpected. Slow. Lazy. Gentle. Sweet.
Never in my life, any aspect of it, had I had it all or even expected to.
Now, I did and to say it moved me was an understatement.
Knight quit nuzzling my neck with his nose and lips and his head came up.
My eyes went to his.
His looked into mine a quarter of a second and he whispered, “Baby, what?”
“You want a surprise?” I whispered back, not about to tell him what. Not then. Maybe later.
Hopefully it would be later after it stayed good in a way I knew it always would be.
He held my eyes for long moments and I knew he did it coming to a decision.
Then he came to it.
“Yeah,” he answered, thankfully and it had to be said thoughtfully letting it slide.
“I called my Sunday clients, all of them. Moved them. Now my Sundays are free.”
His eyes went hooded and, seriously, that was a good look.
“So you’re mine all day,” he said softly.
“Every Sunday,” I replied just as softly.
One side of his lips curved up and he kept talking softly when he said, “Thank you, baby.”
He wanted that. Me. All day Sunday.
God.
“You’re welcome, honey.”
His hand came up and his fingertips trailed along the apple of my cheek as he muttered, “Fuck, my baby’s sweet.”
So was my Daddy.
“I have another surprise,” I announced and his eyes went from his fingers now at my temple to mine.