[A/N: Chapter 14 of 29 - we're almost half way through already, but there's plenty of good stuff still to come!
Thank you for all your support this far - I hope you keep enjoying where things go from here! EG x ]
As we sit together in the back of the Mercedes, in a completely comfortable silence, his arm around me, pulling me in to rest my head on his shoulder, it dawns on me that I am always totally content in this man's company.
The rational part of my brain knows that it's absurd -- I've known him for a week, and in that time, he's paid me for sex on three occasions. But he's also the first man in years to have seen me naked for free, and I've loved every moment of every time.
Sure, he's infuriating. He's a control freak and he's sometimes over confident to the point of being an arrogant bastard, but he's also incredibly thoughtful, and smart and really good company.
And as Dominants go? Well, I've never been so eager to submit in all my life.
I've always avoided relationships because the thought of explaining Amber to anyone makes my blood run cold, but he already knows. Maybe it would be different? Or maybe I'm just getting my hopes up and setting myself up for a fall.
He's been totally honest with me -- no dating. Could I change his mind? Have I already changed his mind, is that what we're doing now? Or have the Palomas have just gone to my head?
'Hey Beautiful -- what are you so deep in thought about?' his voice snaps me out of my daydream and I look up into his gorgeous blue eyes. He's gazing at me curiously and I realise we've just turned in to my street.
'Nothing much.' I lie.
As Harvey parks up, Sam jumps out to go round and open my door. As he takes my hand and helps me out, I lean in to kiss him and he pulls away.
'I know that wasn't a date, but I don't get a kiss goodnight?' I pout.
'Of course, you do, but, date or not, a gentleman sees a lady to her door.' He replies, putting his arm around my waist and leading me up the path. As we get to the door he stops and pulls me in to him. As he leans in to kiss me, I pull away and he frowns.
'What if we don't say goodnight just yet?' I breathe before I can change my mind. He looks at me, confused. 'I mean, what if you came in. Maybe stayed over.' I explain, looking up at him through my lashes, biting the corner of my bottom lip nervously. His answering smile makes me giddy.
'You sure?' he asks, rubbing the back of his neck and eyeing me cautiously. I nod. He pulls out his phone. 'Harvey, take the car home and take the rest of the night off, thanks.' As the Mercedes drives away, his eyes lock on mine. 'Lead the way, Miss Blake.' I unlock the door, take him by the hand and lead him into my flat.
'This place is fantastic' he announces as we get inside.
My front door leads straight into my spacious open plan lounge and kitchen. He looks around approvingly. 'High ceilings, massive bay windows must give you heaps of natural light during the day, original fireplace, nice.' I can't help smiling; He's listing all the things that sold this place to me when I moved in.
'Now before you get too excited Mr Byron, I should point out, only the ground floor is mine - so don't go wandering off to explore upstairs or you might give Mrs Fredrickson a heart attack!'
'Mrs Fredrickson?' he looks at me blankly,
'My 68-year-old neighbour -- and landlady!' I explain, 'She and her husband lived here all their married life. When he passed away, she decided to convert the place into two flats rather than sell up.' I continue, as I pour us each a glass of wine.
'I see,' he replies - 'so does that mean you have to, uh, keep it down. When you have... guests?' He enquires shamelessly.
'Firstly, Mr Byron,' I say, handing him a glass, 'you are the first guest of an overnight nature I've had since I moved in.' He looks genuinely shocked, then more than a little pleased. 'And secondly, Mrs Fredrickson is almost completely deaf.' I smile at him and he mirrors it back at me.
'Well then, Miss Blake, may I propose a toast? "To firsts."' He announces triumphantly.
'To firsts', I reply with a smile, gently clinking my glass to his.
'Hungry?' I ask, remembering to be a good hostess.
'Always.' He replies with a lewd grin.
'For food, Mr Byron.', I reply, opening the fridge door.
'That's what I meant, Miss Blake -- a man needs to keep his energy levels up.' He replies innocently. 'What have you got?'
'Um, leftover pizza? -- I've been a little -- distracted this week, so I'm afraid the cupboards are pretty bare. Or we could nip to the Chinese takeaway on the corner? They do the best Singapore noodles I've ever eaten.'
'Pizza is great' he smiles graciously. 'You really do like old books, huh?' I look up from the microwave to see him surveying my crammed bookcase.
'I really do.' I answer, coming up behind him, 'Especially this one.' I add, reaching my arm under his, pointing out the first edition he bought me that has pride of place. He catches me around the waist and kisses me gently.
'I'm glad.' He smiles
'How did you track that down so quickly, anyway?' I ask -- it's been bugging me ever since he gave it to me. He looks away momentarily before he answers,
'It was my mother's' he says quietly, 'I had it sent up from my parents' old place in Cornwall. She was quite a fan of old books too.' He adds with a half-smile.
I'm completely thrown by this new information. Suddenly that book is a hundred times more valuable and I can't believe he gave it to me.
'Sam, I had no idea -- you should take it back' he silences me with a fingertip to my lips.
'Absolutely not. She'd be delighted to know that someone else was enjoying it as much as she did -- that's much more worthwhile than it gathering dust.' He states plainly. 'Now let's eat, I'm wasting away here.' It's clear there's no point arguing with him, but mentally, I pledge to take even better care of such a precious gift.
Watching Sam Byron sitting on my sofa, munching leftover pizza and chatting about what a terrible English student he was at school, I catch myself feeling very content again. It's been so long since I was involved in any sort of normal relationship, I'd forgotten how nice these ordinary moments can be. Who gets to say what counts as normal anyway? Why can't "normal" include an occasional spanking or some delicious torture with vibrating balls? We're both consenting grownups.
'Jessica?' Sam's voice shakes me out of my thoughts.
'Sorry,' I reply, 'what was the question?'
'I just wondered where you keep your spare blankets -- I assume I'm sleeping on the sofa?' he says plainly. I gaze at him in horror for a few seconds before he fails to stifle his laugh. 'I'm kidding! Where did you go there beautiful?' I giggle a little, relieved
'Sorry, I zoned out a bit.' I reply.