"Everything I needed to know," Elle answered, sticking out her hand. "Thank you very much for talking to me. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome."
CHAPTER 9
I t had been a long-assed trip. Too damned long – extended twice, needlessly, simply because people kept fucking up and not doing as they were told.
He was hot and crotchety and dead on his feet tired, head down, aiming for the car he'd parked two weeks ago and then home, food, bed. In that order.
"Hey, aren't you Alt Camden, the supernerd?"
It wasn't the words, but the voice delivering them that made his head snap up suddenly, a distinctly not tired grin spreading over his face.
She was standing there in a beautiful trench coat that covered her from neck to mid shin, looking even more stunning than usual with her hair cascading down over her shoulders, face made up lightly and tastefully, and he could smell her floral perfume from where he was standing. She looked good enough to eat, and he was just the man to do exactly that – if she'd let him.
Alton stood directly in front of her. "What are you doing here?"
"Welcoming you home." Elle took a step towards him – she thought it might have been the first time since they'd met that she'd done that with purely sensual intent. It seemed to her that she'd spent an inordinate amount of time backing away from him, but that was about to stop.
If he still wanted her, that was. She still didn't have enough confidence about herself – about how she looked and how he felt about her – to put all of her doubts to bed, but she'd managed to wrestle the majority of them into the ground, and she was hoping that he'd be willing to help her with the rest.
With one hand on his chest, she went up on tiptoe – since he seemed disinclined to lean down to her for some reason – and kissed him. Not passionately, exactly, but with obvious relish that had him coming to attention and snaking his arms around her waist to lift her up and crush her against him, although he still allowed her control the kiss.
When he finally set her on her own two feet, he kept an arm around her, using his free hand to pull his carryon behind him. If this was some kind of aberration, he intended to get her home as quickly as he could before she changed her mind.
His head was filled with questions about what had just happened, but he was frankly terrified to ask them, not wanting to upset this delicate equilibrium in which she picked him up at the airport looking like a million dollars and kissed him. Voluntarily.
They huddled with the rest of the masses around the baggage claim carousels, and several people approached him for selfies and/or autographs, and he obliged with a genuineness that few other celebrities showed.
He wasn't able to watch for his bag, but she knew what it looked like, having seen it in his hotel room, and she reached for it as she saw it come around, only to be hauled back from it by a firm arm around her waist.
"Don't you dare, little lady. That thing weighs more than you do," he explained as he reached past her and lifted it himself, tucking the carry on into a slot in the handle and rolling them both along with them while he still held her close to his side.
She snorted derisively at that, and he gave her a very unhappy look that shut her up without him having to say a word.
"So," he said as he shut the trunk after loading his bags into it. "Do I get to take you home with me?"
Elle looked up at him. "Yes, if you want to."
"Do I have to keep my hands to myself?" he rasped, having chafed badly at the restrictions she had set on him.
"Only if you want to."
He brought her to the passenger's side of the car but didn't immediately open the door. Instead, he tipped her face up to his. "Does this mean what I think it means?"
A mischievous smile played around her lips. "That rather depends on what you think it means."
Before she could blink an eye, she found herself crowded up against the car with him as he lifted her at the same time, standing between legs she hadn't remember spreading. "Don't play games with me about this, Elle. It's much too important to me."
He clenched his jaw at the slightly frightened look she gave him, knowing he should have been more patient, but he was at the end of his rope.
Then she reached out and put her hands on his shoulders and he felt her body relax against his as he was essentially pinning her there, her feet no longer touching the ground. "It means exactly what you're thinking. I-I thought about it long and hard, believe me. And I can't say that I won't occasionally still have moments of doubt, because, well, not all of us are quite as self-confident as you are. But I-I want to be with you –"
That was all she got to say before he began twirling her around the parking lot as if they were in a ballroom, the way he was looking at her making her heart skip several beats a minute.
She could literally see his love for her shining in those deep blue eyes.
When he finally stopped, but only because she complained that she was getting dizzy, he hugged her so hard she thought her innards were going to explode. He pressed his lips to hers, to the tip of her nose, to her temple, where he whispered, "You have just made me the happiest man on the planet." His hands cupped her cheeks, and he reached for the belt of her coat, but she stopped him.
"Uh, you probably don't want to undo that here," she whispered tentatively, blushing bright red.
"Why –" he asked, then stopped, knowing exactly why she'd said what she'd said. "Holy crap, you're naked under there, aren't you?"
Alt didn't wait for her answer – he'd already guessed the truth. And although he wanted nothing more than to drink in the sight of her like that, knowing now that she was his, he felt more protective towards her – not wanting anyone else to see her like that – than he'd thought he would. So he tucked her into the car first, climbing behind the wheel, grabbing her hand and setting them off towards his place as quickly as he thought he could get away with without being stopped, hoping he could keep himself from pulling down a deserted road to have his way with her.
But he would not – could not – put her at risk like that.
So he settled for fondling her in the most indecent manner – driving very, very distractedly indeed, ninety percent of the time with the fingers of his right hand in tight possession of that which he had coveted while he'd been alone in his room these past weeks with only his right hand and his memories of her for company.
"You're sure?" he asked her at one point.
Elle had laughed. "Are you trying to talk me out of it?"
"No, I just want you to be sure, because I'll never let you go, Elle¸ and I'll do my best to make sure you don't ever want to go, either."
"I'll try to make sure you feel the same way," she promised.
"Oh, baby, I already do, believe me. I already do."
They finally made it home – with him in one piece, ecstatic to have her – and Elle in pieces because of how he'd been touching her on the way home.
When the garage door had closed behind the car, he came around to help her out of the passenger's side, only to hold her there and pick up where he'd left off in the parking garage. Undoing her belt slowly, to tease the both of them, then letting it fall, using the sides of his hands to part the coat down the front, revealing every inch of her exquisite beauty to him, and he was seconds from going down on his knees to worship her right then and there.
Instead, he led her over to his favorite car – one he would never leave in an airport garage – a red, '69 Mustang GTO. And there he spread her out before him, like a particularly delectable morsel, and proceeded to have his way with her – bringing the both of them to such heights that, for a long while afterwards, he simply lay atop her, his feet the only part of either of them still on the ground.
"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't lie on top of you like this, but…"
"Don't apologize," Elle said quietly from beneath him, "I love everything about making love with you, this included. It's so intimate, almost even more so than the ac
t."
"I love you, Elle," he whispered, and she moved to respond in kind, but he pressed his finger over her lips. "Please don't feel pressured to say the same thing back to me. I know I'm kind of ahead of the curve, and I don't want you to say it until you feel it. Until then, I'll just do my level best to make damned sure you fall in love with me." He grinned.
AND SHE DID.
And so did all of her friends and their friends.
He changed her life. Every bit of it to the good, moving her into his place the very next day, not giving her the chance to dwell on her decision and perhaps change her mind.
Even the spankings helped her, although she would deny there was any benefit in them in the least until the day she died.
Andrea became a good friend and told her even more harrowing stories about their childhoods, some of which was apart, but they often ended up in the same foster homes. Everything she told Elle just made her love him that much more, although she didn't tell him that.
He was so sweet, loving, and kind to her, never in the least afraid or embarrassed to express how he felt for her or be overly protective of her, or endearingly courteous to her. Including, standing to greet her any time she entered a room, in front of anyone, even the crowds at her office, who seemed to multiple every time he made an appearance to take her out for lunch or collect her at the end of the workday. He was unfailingly polite and generous with everyone she saw him come in contact with.
And that included her. To a fault. She no longer had to pay rent, because she was living with him, and he paid for everything, refusing to even let her think of spending her own money on anything that was a necessity. He paid all the bills, not even allowing her to contribute half, and this became a small bone of contention between them, because she had always been very independent and she wanted to contribute to the relationship in any way she could, even if it was meager in comparison to him.
"What about if I pay half of all the bills?" she suggested as they were snuggling into bed one evening.
"If we were your average couple, definitely."
"But why not?"
Alt pulled her to him beneath the sheets, purposely entangling his legs with hers. "Because the mortgage on this place is six thousand dollars a month."
He didn't really have to go on from there. She got it. She couldn't afford to be living with him She'd really already known that.
He had a housekeeper, he had a cook, and he wasn't much interested in firing either of them, since he knew they both had families who depended on their incomes.
"Then what am I working for?"
She was frazzled, all wrapped around the axle about this, and he hated to see her like this, so he did what he knew would distract her.
"Go get my belt, Elle."
Her eyes went wide, but she knew better – he had taught her a very hard lesson about it – than to delay in retrieving something he'd asked her to get, whether she wanted him to have it or not.
"Why, Sir? Because I want to contribute to our finances?" she whined, fetching the long leather length and handing it to him.
Alt gave her a chiding look. "Of course not. You know better than that. What did you do his morning that you shouldn't have, Elle? And you'd better remember or it's going to be worse for you."
She would rather forget whatever it was that she'd done, especially when he asked for the belt.
He was an extraordinary Dom – he did that amazingly well just like he did everything else. She always felt his protective eyes on her, even when he wasn't there.
But he had been there this morning when she'd skipped the twenty minutes he expected her to do on her stationery bike every day – not because he wanted her to lose weight, not because he thought she didn't look good. She was – slowly – coming to believe him when he said things like that. He had made the rule that she had to exercise every day for at least twenty minutes because he wanted her to be healthier in general. He didn't try to police what she ate, or for that matter, who she saw or where she went, which was altogether different from Dunn, in a much better way.
Every rule he made for her – and there were surprisingly few – he put in place to make her life better, or, he'd told her with a swat to her behind, so that he'd have her around for a very long time.
"Answer me, little girl," he scolded.
But Elle didn't want to. Even with just the few rules she had, he spanked her a lot. Her bottom was more often than not quite sore, and now he was going to add a layer – several layers, if she knew him – of the belt on top of it.
She crawled from the edge of the bed where she had been standing up over him and into his welcoming arms, whispering into his ear, "I blew off my exercise."
His arms closed around her, holding her tight to him.
"And are you allowed to do that?" he asked gently.
She hid her face against his neck, murmuring, "No."
"So what does a naughty girl who misbehaves in this house know is going to happen to her?"
Her bottom was already wiggling in protest. "The belt."
"I'm afraid so, honey." He said it with true regret, even though just the idea of thrashing her bottom had him practically exploding beneath the sheets.
With that, he kissed her cheek tenderly, then got up, completely naked and entirely unselfconscious about it, reaching down to put her into position, near the bottom of his side of the bed, arms out, legs spread, nude, the belt lying across her backside, waiting to be punished.
"This is something you've been punished for before, isn't it, Elle, my darling?"
That set her off right there, knowing it was going to go that much worse for her because of that fact.
"Yes, Sir," she sobbed, knowing her tears wouldn't move him.
He was committed to disciplining her, and, to her dismay, he'd already been able to affect her behavior, with the occasional slip up, like this.
"Now you know I do this because I love you, right?" he asked.
"Yes, S-Sir," she stuttered, beginning to wail again because she felt him remove the belt from her bottom, and she knew that it was going to fall – with a vengeance – in just a few seconds, and that the next long moments were going to be nothing but pure hell for her.
And she was right.
He didn't bind her at all. He expected her to lie there docilely and take her punishment. Although she wanted to please him more than she wanted almost anything else in her life, she was understandably forced to dance to his cruel tune, and she was wont to lean the lower half of her body as far away from the source of the belt as she could, obstructing his ability to punish her.
And that resulted in even more punishment.
Finally, he put his knee down in the middle of her back and conducted the last of her discipline that way. She couldn't budge him in the least and had to simply lie there and feel the unforgiving leather slash down onto her behind with no hope of relief until he decided to stop.
When he was done, he gathered her into his arms and held her tight. While she cried it out, he provided a safe place for her to do so, wrapped up and held nearly immobile against him while he kissed her head and held her gently, telling her what a good girl she was and how much he loved her. Reassuring her that this was the only way he could be as strict as he knew she needed him to be with her.
Almost inevitably, she found herself beneath him soon after a spanking, regardless of the condition of her bottom, although he never allowed her to come to pleasure on a day when she'd been spanked.
This meant that she sometimes went quite a while without him allowing her to orgasm, because, although he did let her touch herself, she had to ask permission first. He would never allow it when she'd been punished.
As a result, a lot of the time she was quite horny, even though he was – as he had warned her he would be – at her all the time.
Alt was of a mind that deprivation of sensual pleasure was a good thing for her. It reinforced her submission to him, with which he was incredibly pleased.
She was the just right combination of saucy but not bratty, obedient but not a doormat.
In other words, she was perfect for him, as he'd known she would be. He enjoyed every single second he was able to spend with her, whether they were making love, he was spanking her, or they were simply having breakfast on the balcony. It was all perfection to him.
THE CLOSER SHE got to him, the closer she got to Andrea, who helped Elle plan something special for his birthday.
Elle had been horrified to realize that she hadn't even known when it was, even after they'd been together for nearly a year.
Andrea frowned back at her. "That's not surprising. He's not very forthcoming about it."
"But why? Birthdays are always such fun."
Andrea simply looked at Elle and let her figure it out for herself.
"Oh, not many birthday parties in foster homes, huh? That's atrocious! Every child should have a birthday party every year!"
"I don't think he's ever had one. He never does anything special for it, and no one ever asks him – they're too busy worrying about what he can do for them."
"Well, that is going to stop this year!"
They planned a party for him, inviting all of his friends, even getting people to come in from other states and countries, and they actually managed to keep it from him.
Until the night before, when she refused to tell him where she and Andrea were going early the next afternoon. They were going to get his cake – which was a mockup of one of his first computers – but she couldn't tell him that.
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