Afterwards, I crane my head to look at my arse. “I think you’ve ripped this blue jock.”
He waves a lordly hand. “I’ll buy you another. I’ll buy you the whole shop.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper. “Henry’s been such a good boy.”
“Ugh, creepy,” he mutters and sits up, shoving me off him and spilling me to the floor.
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “Romance is dead.” I pause. “Was it the role play?”
He shakes his head. “You’ve derailed me with your slutty underwear. Come upstairs and shower and pack.”
“Pack?” I say loudly and somewhat dubiously. “What am I packing for?” I brighten. “Are we going to a hotel in London?”
“In London?” he asks, mystified.
“As a nice luxurious change.”
“From your home in London?” He shakes his head. “Sometimes you can be a bit weird.”
“What am I packing for?”
“We’re going away for the weekend.”
“Why?” I squeak. He stares at me, and I shift tack. “How wonderful, Ivo. Where are we going?”
Ivo’s lip quirks. “Henry, you are not a traveller. If you’d been a Victorian explorer, we’d have thought the world ended at Hackney.”
“There is a very nice tailor in Hackney.” I sigh.
He folds his arms. “I’m taking you away. We’re going to stay in a lovely hotel in the Cotswolds where I can wine and dine you and fuck you senseless.”
I scratch my head. “Is it our anniversary?”
He frowns. “No, it isn’t.” He pauses and thinks. “No, it’s definitely not. Can I not just do something nice for you for once?”
I melt. “Oh, babe, of course, you can. I’m sorry. It’s just that you know what travel and I are like, Ivo. It never ends well.”
He shakes his head. “I have been aware for a long time that milk travels better than you, but that’s not going to be the case this weekend.”
“Oh, you’ve done it now,” I say in a dark voice. “You’ve jinxed it.”
He hugs me. “This weekend we are going to have the perfect romantic weekend away.” He pauses. “When I fuck you through a hotel mattress.”
I bat my eyelashes. “My hero.”
“Get packing,” he says, slapping my arse. “I want to set out before the traffic gets too bad.”
Four hours later, I stir in the car. “So, when you said you wanted to set out before the traffic got bad, did you mean we should have travelled at one in the morning, or invested in a time machine?”
He snorts and looks at the long traffic jam on the M40. We’d crawled along for a while, entertaining ourselves by playing X-rated I Spy and chatting about his latest commission. Then I’d grabbed the book he was reading and read a bit out loud, doing funny voices, but he’d stopped that because apparently The Lovely Bones isn’t a comedy. Now, we’re both bored.
He flicks the indicator on and takes the next turn.
“Where are you going?” I ask. “The sat nav has rather bossily pointed out that we have to keep on this road, which is a trifle ironic as we haven’t moved for two hours.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll take a detour. This mess isn’t clearing up anytime soon.”
“I can see why you were so good in foreign countries.”
“This is the Cotswolds, not Afghanistan. You have some sort of countryside phobia.”
“Oh, my God, I do,” I say in a tone of wonder. “Wow. There’s a name for it.”
“There’s definitely a name for it.”
“Alert the media,” I say dramatically. “Ivo Robinson is trying to be funny.”
He laughs and focuses back on the isolated stretch of road we’re now on. It’s getting dark, and the fields nearby glow an unearthly yellow and green under the twilight.
I look over at Ivo and smile. “This is a deserted stretch of road, isn’t it?”
He shoots me a funny look. “You sound like a creeper. Stop it.”
I snort and reach across, and he jumps as I unzip his jeans. “Really? You want me to stop?” He groans as I reach in and fist his cock. “Oh, Ivo, no underwear,” I say reverently. “You really are a very special person.”
He laughs and moans at the same time as I bring my hand up to his mouth. “Get me wet,” I command, and then it’s my turn to moan as he licks my palm with broad strokes before taking my fingers into his mouth and sucking hard. “It feels like my hand’s connected to my cock,” I murmur and smirk. “When I was a teenager, it was.”