calling to confirm your appointment for this evening, Miss Anderson.”
“Don't you have a receptionist that should do that for you?” I bite. Shit. I gotta stop this. I have more control over my feelings than this. They don't rule me any more than he does. Besides, if it really is just sex, why am I acting like a butt hurt school girl?
Klous calmly informs me, “She does. However, when it comes to my personal life I prefer to make the calls myself.”
Tensing, I lean back in my chair. “Personal life?”
“The one woman I'm sleeping with is personal.”
His declaration catches my breath. I lift my pen to my lips, tempted to bite the lid. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? He knows he's the only man I'm sleeping with. This doesn't mean anything different. This is still just sex. I think. Maybe.
“Is your appointment still on for this evening, Miss Anderson?”
In a quiet voice I confirm, “Yes.”
“Good,” he states strongly. “I have special instructions for you.”
“I haven't touched myself all weekend.”
Klous' lets out a subtle groan before saying, “Good. It means your pussy is ready for another round with me.”
I bite down hard on the end of my pen. Fuck.
“But that's not what I was going to ask.”
“You weren't?”
“No.”
Remembering the attitude he got about this subject before pushes me to ask, “Why not?”
“I trust you.”
Oddly enough, I trust him as well. Otherwise I wouldn't let him take me to the levels he has. To do that with basically a complete stranger either means I felt that connection of trust right away or I'd lost my fucking mind. How about a combination of both?
“Now, you should've received a package.”
“I haven't received anything,” I reply moments before there's a knock on my office door. “Come in!”
Hope opens the door and reveals a small black box with a beautiful yellow colored flower lingering on top. “Package just came for you.”
Dropping the pen in my clutches, I politely say, “Thank you.”
Suspiciously she gestures the flower and mouths. “A flower?”
I point to the door, which causes her to mumble something before she shuts it.
Lifting the flower to my nose, I take a long inhale, the aroma seducing my senses. Klous smugly questions, “Enjoying the Golden Queen?”
Not willing to just cave, I reply, “Maybe.” His warm chortle causes me to smile. “Why'd you pick it? Why not a rose?”
“You're not common like they are.”
The compliment parts my lips not to fight but actually to thank him for it. Uncomfortable with that idea, I ask, “Why just one?”
“A lone queen for a lone queen seemed fitting.”
Unsure how the train of thought makes me feel I twirl it around in my grip. “It's beautiful.”
“As are you.” His pause is brief before he says, “It's actually special to a certain providence of Sweden.”
The information about his family that I researched comes rolling back into my head as I give the flower another inhale. This isn't just any flower. It has meaning. Heritage. He's reaching to offer me more than a massage. More than just the delicious Dom side I experienced. I know I threw a bitch fit when he didn't fucking call or text, but do I want more? Can I handle more? Fuck, do I
“Don't you have a receptionist that should do that for you?” I bite. Shit. I gotta stop this. I have more control over my feelings than this. They don't rule me any more than he does. Besides, if it really is just sex, why am I acting like a butt hurt school girl?
Klous calmly informs me, “She does. However, when it comes to my personal life I prefer to make the calls myself.”
Tensing, I lean back in my chair. “Personal life?”
“The one woman I'm sleeping with is personal.”
His declaration catches my breath. I lift my pen to my lips, tempted to bite the lid. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? He knows he's the only man I'm sleeping with. This doesn't mean anything different. This is still just sex. I think. Maybe.
“Is your appointment still on for this evening, Miss Anderson?”
In a quiet voice I confirm, “Yes.”
“Good,” he states strongly. “I have special instructions for you.”
“I haven't touched myself all weekend.”
Klous' lets out a subtle groan before saying, “Good. It means your pussy is ready for another round with me.”
I bite down hard on the end of my pen. Fuck.
“But that's not what I was going to ask.”
“You weren't?”
“No.”
Remembering the attitude he got about this subject before pushes me to ask, “Why not?”
“I trust you.”
Oddly enough, I trust him as well. Otherwise I wouldn't let him take me to the levels he has. To do that with basically a complete stranger either means I felt that connection of trust right away or I'd lost my fucking mind. How about a combination of both?
“Now, you should've received a package.”
“I haven't received anything,” I reply moments before there's a knock on my office door. “Come in!”
Hope opens the door and reveals a small black box with a beautiful yellow colored flower lingering on top. “Package just came for you.”
Dropping the pen in my clutches, I politely say, “Thank you.”
Suspiciously she gestures the flower and mouths. “A flower?”
I point to the door, which causes her to mumble something before she shuts it.
Lifting the flower to my nose, I take a long inhale, the aroma seducing my senses. Klous smugly questions, “Enjoying the Golden Queen?”
Not willing to just cave, I reply, “Maybe.” His warm chortle causes me to smile. “Why'd you pick it? Why not a rose?”
“You're not common like they are.”
The compliment parts my lips not to fight but actually to thank him for it. Uncomfortable with that idea, I ask, “Why just one?”
“A lone queen for a lone queen seemed fitting.”
Unsure how the train of thought makes me feel I twirl it around in my grip. “It's beautiful.”
“As are you.” His pause is brief before he says, “It's actually special to a certain providence of Sweden.”
The information about his family that I researched comes rolling back into my head as I give the flower another inhale. This isn't just any flower. It has meaning. Heritage. He's reaching to offer me more than a massage. More than just the delicious Dom side I experienced. I know I threw a bitch fit when he didn't fucking call or text, but do I want more? Can I handle more? Fuck, do I
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