I’m so lost in the scent of you, listening to you softly sing along to Van the Man, feeling the soothing rumble of your voice against me. My worries at disappointing you fade away, my only purpose to mould myself to you and move with you for now, just to be yours.
The music ends, you take my hand in yours and we head for the couch. I gaze at the stairs as we do, my eyes drawn to my clothes still folded on the floor in the hall. I’m unsure again and feeling naked. You sit first, then draw me down between your legs, my back against your chest. I try to relax, but clearly fail. “Tell me what’s wrong baby girl, you’re tense.” Your hands trace patterns on my skin, your fingertips like feathers. A soft gentle kiss on the top of my head, your face resting there and I feel you take a breath and take in my own scent. I can’t help how my body reacts, a hot flush across my cheeks showing my embarrassment at my utter lack of control when with you. “I made you angry, I disappointed you Daddy.” Your strokes on my skin stop for a moment, then begin again. “Why do you think that baby?” I try to ignore your fingertips dancing a more vivid dance on my skin and think hard about what happened. “Because of what you did?” I half answer, half question.
You touch me then, really touch me. You avoid my nipples, you avoid my sex, you avoid every part of me. But my god you touch me. Your fingers dig deep, your thumbs wake my body and probe my heart and soul.
Just as suddenly you stop. Your hand gently turns my face to you. “Think about what you just said baby girl. Think about what happened. Who really got angry...?” I search your face, your eyes. I find softness, I find a question and an answer reflected in them. “Me. I’m the one that got angry.” I feel the tears well in my own as the realisation washes over me.
Your hands and arms wrap tightly around me, your mouth finding mine, your legs wrapping and pinning me down. “Good girl.”
(to be continued...)
