Their Second Encounter

 

Their Second Encounter

1 hour and 12 minutes after David and Lacy’s first date ended.

A text session.

Buzz

Lacy’s eyes snapped opened and she frowned. It had to be midnight. Who’d be sending her a text at this hour?

David.

“Oh brother.” Suddenly visions of him texting her morning, noon and night telling her to do all kinds of nasty things came to mind. She never should have agreed to this, but then, had she really agreed or had he backed her into a corner with no way out?

Snatching up her phone she took a deep breath and read.

Hi.

Hm, not what she’d been expecting.

Hello.

Are you in bed?

She rolled her eyes. Here came the sexy.

Yes.

Do you like football?

She frowned and thought for a millisecond before she replied.

No. Well, sort of, but only if the game is close and there’s less than 4 minutes on the clock.

She sent that and expected him to vehemently defend that All-American pastime but was surprised again when she got back.

Baseball?

Okay, was he planning on taking her to game or something?

Sort of. Providing it’s the last inning and the teams are tied.

What about golf?

She shook her head and felt like texting, “what about you telling me what this is all about?” instead she answered.

No.

What about pudding? Do you like pudding?

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. This conversation was so bizarre — actually intriguing— that she sat up and scooted back against the headboard, dragging the warm duvet cover with her.

Yes. Love it.

Cheesecake?

Not especially.

What about leather? Do you like the feel of leather?

A hot sizzle went through her. Landing between her legs with a heady zap. She pushed aside the duvet and blew out a breath. When that didn’t work to cool her off she fanned herself while she thought about a reply. Grinning ear-to-ear the moment the perfect one came to her.

Better than cheesecake.

That should make him have to think.

As much a pudding?

Dammit. Before she could formulate an answer her phone buzzed again.

What about flowers? Do you favor roses?

With relief she quickly typed.

No.

Lillies?

Nope.

Violets?

Not my fav.

What about silk? Do you like the feel of silk pressed against your eyes?

Her heart skipped a beat. Was this a sneaky way of saying blindfold?

Silk is nice, but I prefer to feel it—

She squeezed her eyes shut and worked up the courage to type the rest. David was playing with her here and she needed to get into the game. Admittedly, he was far better at this than she was, but maybe her inexperience would ruffle his calm-Dom-feathers some.

“Fuck it.” She opened her eyes and punched out the last of her reply.

—between my legs.

Her heart pounded as she stared down at the small screen. Seconds ticked by. Silence. Nothing. A full minute had passed. She knew because she was watching the clock on her phone. Should she send something else?

Lilacs?

She blinked and then realized he was picking up where they left off on the flower topic. Clearly he had no feathers to ruffle. If that’s the way he wanted to play it.

No, and you’ll like never guess.

Want me to try?

She pulled the duvet up and snuggled into it.

Sure.

Daisies.

Her mouth dropped open before she pressed her lips together. How had he…?

How did you know that?

Secret. Do you know what daisies represent?

She stuffed her hair behind her ears and quickly returned.

No and tell me the secret.

Would it make you happy if I told you the secret?

Yes.

She expected him to say that Colin or Jo had told him. Or that he scoured the internet doing research on her. Although she wasn’t sure if she’d ever mentioned that fact about herself. She could have though. Maybe on twitter? He had no right to spy on her.

Your earrings.

It took her a moment but then she remembered. She’d worn her silver daisy earrings to dinner.

Oh.

Innocence.

What about it?

That’s what a daisy represents.

Wow, that was so not her. She was just about to type that and then thought better of it and adjusted.

I like that. What kind of flowers do you like?

 

 

David sank back in his leather chair and grinned. Finally she was engaged in the conversation.

Gladiolas.

Nice. What do they represent?

Strength of character.

Right on the money there.

He shook his head when he saw she’d punctuated that sentence with a silly winking smiley face. He sat forward. Time to shake things up a little.

What about steel. Do you like the cold, hard bite of it against your skin?

An image of her stretched out naked on his bed with her arms up over her head and her wrists firmly locked to his headboard in a pair of shiny manacles, stroked him. He was just envisioning how he’d position her legs when his phone vibrated.

I’m not sure I should answer that.

So not an option.

You have to.

Is that a rule?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes? Man she had guts. He readjusted in his seat. He’d been semi-hard imagining her cuffed to his bed but now that he knew she’d like it, his cock turned to stone. Digging into his thigh. Straining against the zipper of his pants. He ignored the discomfort and typed.

Do you like charades?

Not especially.

He nodded.

What about solitaire?

Love it.

What are you wearing?

A black-lace teddy with matching thong.

He laughed. She was a deceitful little brat when she wanted to be. There was no way in hell she slept in sexy lingerie every night of the week, if at all.

Are you sure?

Of course. *gasp* What kind of question is that?

He sighed because once again she’d included a silly face. Only this one had crossed eyes and its tongue hanging out of its mouth. He thought about calling her on it but then decided not to press her as he knew the motivating factor behind her fib. Him. Or rather her trying to impress him.

Tomorrow I want you to wear something I send you. Will you?

What is it?

It’s black.

I’m waiting…

He narrowed his eyes and replied.

So am I.

Yes.

He smiled at that then sent.

You’ll see.

Not fair.

I know.

He was just about to type good night when his phone shook in his palm.

David?

He didn’t know why he was holding his breath.

Yes?

I’m not sure we should be doing this. I’m worried.

He sighed and released the pent up air in his lungs in a rush. Now was not the time to ask her what she was worried about. If he did, he was sure she’d feed him the same bullshit excuse she’d given him at dinner. About how they might screw up being friends when they’d be expected to frequently get together with “the gang”. That’s not what she was worried about. Deep down he knew it, but question was, did she?

I’m sure and don’t worry. It’s going to be fun, remember?

That’s what I’m afraid of…

This time the silly face she included with those words was sideways and sported an inverted “V” bracket over the eyes. He shook his head and typed.

You’ve agreed to wear what I send you tomorrow and us ‘having fun’ is all you’re afraid of?

Crazy, huh?

He rubbed his thumb over those words as he thought about them and her. He’d been right. There was something special about her. Too bad she didn’t know it.

Crazy? No, smart. Now get some sleep.

K.

No sooner had he put his phone down then it vibrated again and he picked it back up.

David?

Yes?

I’m really wearing my oversized whiskers and paws t-shirt from the last fundraiser I attended.

With her admitting that truth an unaccountable pleasure stole through him, but so did something else.

That’s all you’re wearing?

I swear. That’s it.

An image of her in just a shirt. Nothing else under it but skin. All naked and warm. Silky and—

Oh, my bad. I do have a thong on too.

When he saw the brightly smiling face that accompanied those words his eyes narrowed and he altered his earlier assessment of her. She was special all right. A special brat. No wonder he wanted her with a passion that kept him up at nights.

Tomorrow when my package arrives call me before you open it.

Why?

You’ll see. Go to sleep now. Good night.

He stood and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he thought about how she’d react to his gift. He wasn’t usually heavy handed when it came to relationships. Not his kind of relationships at any rate. Normally he took his time and savored the getting to know one another part of a courtship to deepen trust, but with her he’d have to be different. He’d have to make concessions and so would she. At least until he had a better handle on her. She needed someone to unlock her and he had every intention on being that magic key.

His phone rocked on the desk and he stared down at it, noticing that the lit screen highlighted a sad face. Reaching out, he traced an index finger over the image. Wondering, and not for the first time, why she was freely expressive when there were phones and distance between them and yet, face to face, she was as sober as a little judge.

He ran a hand through his hair and decided one thing. Lacy Pembrook had a story and if he got his way, he was going to make sure it became an epic.