Part V
The meal passed in an almost comfortable silence, the waves of her orgasm diminishing as they conversed. She still didn't know his name and she kept sneaking quiet glances at his face. He was an attractive man, a strong jaw covered with a thick beard. His sandy blond hair short and neat. His green eyes piercing but intelligent.
"So, when do I get to know your name, Sir?" she asked, the term rolling off her tongue more easily with each alliteration. Her eyes roamed over her face, looking for something, not sure what. He glanced at her, his eyes giving nothing away.
"Amelia, I told you, when you can show me that you're a good girl you will get my name." He leaned over, kissing her lips softly. He confused her so much, commanding yet gentle, sensual yet soft. She really didn't know what to make of him. The waiter brought the check, and he slid a card into the holder without even looking at the bill.
He turned back to her, taking her hand in his and lifting it to his lips. She thought he was going to kiss it like an old-time gentleman, but he sucked her index finger into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as his eyes held her gaze. His other hand slid up her knees, finding her bare, wet center once again. She didn't know if she could handle this administration, but her eyes never left his.
A soft moan escaped her lips as his fingers played over her clit, her walls clenching in response. "Sir," she whispered softly, "please." She really wasn't sure what she was asking for. Did she want him to stop or worse continue? Her hips jerked against his hand as his thumb found her clit and his fingers slid inside her once more.
"Please what Amelia, what do you want?"
"Please, Sir, oh please!" Her voice low, hungry.
"I need to hear you say it Amelia, tell me what you want."
Her eyes locked onto his, her heart racing, her body throbbing with need and desire. She knew what he wanted but giving it to him meant losing herself. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She struggled to breath; the sensations he was causing more than she could take. His fingers left her, and she felt herself gathered into his arms. Her head resting on his brick wall of a chest.
"I guess that's enough for tonight," he said. The waiter returned with the booklet. He took his credit card, signed the slip, and left it sitting on the table. "Okay, Amelia, you've had enough fun for one day, let's get you home."
He slid out of the booth, reaching for her hand. She stumbled as she stood, and he caught her. He led her outside where the car was already waiting for them. He helped her in, leaving her to buckle herself in. The ride back to her apartment was quiet, she was lost in her own thoughts. They arrived at her apartment building, and he parked. He went around and opened her door, leading her up to her door.
He turned her gently in his arms, holding her for a moment before taking her keys and clicking the lock open. He ushered her inside and shut the door. Amelia looked like a deer caught in the headlights, she was sure he was going to continue what he had started at the restaurant, but he brushed past her, moving into the bathroom. She heard the faucet turn on and she wandered curiously toward the sound.
She stopped and studied him, his perfectly coiffed hair, his strong back, his muscular arms. She watched as he sorted through her bath oils, selecting one and dumping a capful into the running water. The scent of lavender wafted through the room. He stood, turning toward her, something in his eyes that she couldn't define.
He stepped toward her, and she backed up involuntarily, her back running into the door frame. He reached for the hem of her dress, lifting it over her head, kneeling at her feet and carefully removing her heels. Her hand rested on his shoulder; her eyes curious. Just what was he up to now?
He swung her up into his arms and carried her to the warm, fragrant tub. He lowered her into the depths and grabbed the cloth sitting on the edge. He wetted it and started to bathe her, the warm water running over her naked body. The lavender calming her as she inhaled deeply.
"You know I am capable of bathing myself, right?" She asked, her voice tense.
"Yes, Amelia, I am aware you are a smart, capable, independent woman. I want to do this for you, so just relax will you?" His voice was clipped, edging on anger. Her eyes darted to his. He wasn't a man that was used to not getting what he wanted.
He continued bathing her as her body started to relax. "Lean forward," he said, his hand stroking the cloth over her back. "Do you know how lovely you are? How desirable?" He asked. Amelia's cheeks flamed, her head shaking in denial.
He cupped her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes, "Amelia, the proper response to a compliment is 'Thank you, Sir'." His tone leaving no room for argument.
