Author's Note: Sorry for the wait on this chapter. Real life took over for a bit. But it's the longest yet, to make up for the wait.
I struggled a bit about what category to put this in. It's a bit kinky for an entry in the Romance category, so if anyone is worried about turn-offs, check out the tags at the end of the last page for spoilers of what this chapter contains.
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I'm pretty sure it was the longest week of my life. And I'm definitely sure that Snow was planning it that way. I really should have seen it coming. Er... okay, let me back up.
I woke up Saturday morning with very sore hips and a very full bladder. The latter was easy enough to solve, at least. Well... that would require getting up. And it was pretty comfortable in bed right now. Somehow Snow had ended up spooning me during the night, and his arms were currently wrapped around my chest. I debated for a few minutes whether it was worth getting up, but eventually the pain in my bladder won out.
I was able to get up without waking Snow, thankfully. I needed some time to myself to think straight. I'd proven that I wasn't able to do that while he was in the room.
Okay, let's go over things... Well, I came four times last night. Each time better than the last. And he promised to come back next week. And fuck my ass. For the first time.
I shook my head to push that thought out of it. I'd agreed to let him do it. I hadn't been coerced. I'd only had two beers, so I couldn't claim I was drunk. Though another two beers before we did it would probably be a good idea. Until then, I just had to not think about it. One thing at a time. Today was the morning after, so the traditional thing was for the woman (that is, me) to fret about if this is a one-time thing or if it might be the start of a real relationship. And in doing so, I'd scare off the guy (Snow) and thus ensure it won't turn into a relationship.
So. There was that to look forward to. Probably better to skip all that, and just focus on the sex. Unless he's actually looking for something as well, and he's hoping I bring it up, but I never do, and so he gets bored and I miss out. In which case I should talk to him about it.
...Okay, I think that qualifies as fretting. I'm driving myself crazy for no reason here. Hell, I've spent more time naked around this guy than clothed. Not exactly a good way to figure out how we mesh when sex isn't involved, which is what this really comes down to.
After I finished up in the bathroom, I decided on a plan of action. I knocked on my bedroom door as I headed in, hoping it would wake Snow up. "Snow, about Saturday..." I said once I saw his eyes opening up. "Want to maybe go out for dinner first? My treat. I still feel like I owe you for last night."
A soft chuckle came from Snow as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. "I had fun too, you know. But sure. It's a date."
The first text came Monday afternoon: "About Saturday: Good to pick you up at 6?" I was working at the time, but I could spare a moment to reply and say it was fine. A few minutes later, I got a reply back: "Good. Be back in plenty of time before 10. Hope you'll be ready for it." A brief image flashed in my mind of what we'd be doing, and I tried to suppress it. Work soon helped to distract me, but the thought nagged at the back of my mind. Would I be ready?
Tuesday morning, another text came. "Noticed a nice place downtown. How do you feel about Greek food?" At this point, I still hadn't caught on to what Snow was doing, so I replied seriously. It wasn't my favorite thing, but I'd give it a go if he wanted to try it. A few hours later, I got another text from him. "Gotcha. I'll let you know. Want you to enjoy yourself, then and later. Especially later." Another subtle reminder of what was coming.
I didn't have any plans that evening, so the reminder had a chance to bounce around in my mind as I prepared myself dinner. The whole thing was starting to feel just a bit unreal. What had happened the previous weekend seemed almost like a dream, with only the lingering soreness in my hips attesting to the fact that it was real. Well, that and the texts from Snow. That certainly made it feel a lot more real. And the prospect of what was coming was also starting to feel almost frighteningly real.
Dammit, what did I agree to? I can't do this, can I?
I shuddered a bit at the thought. Maybe I could do it. I could do it. I just had to relax. I had to get in the mood. To help with that, I decided to have a beer along with dinner, and another afterward. I grabbed a third as well, to help steady my nerves as I sat down at my computer and decided to see just how easy it would be to get in the mood.
Long story short: Three beers in me made it pretty easy. It also made it pretty hard to resist texting Snow. The fourth beer made resistance impossible. I'm pretty sure that beer came about as an attempt to get myself to loosen up so I could try out my buttplug. That part didn't happen, but I did manage to send Snow a text saying, "4 dayd left till i fuck ur ass. O whops thats ur line!" I'm not going to pretend I'm proud of that. I have a very crappy sense of humor when I'm drunk, and I'm apparently too good to need autocorrect.
Mercifully, Snow didn't bother to reply to that text. I wouldn't have blamed him if he did. At the very least, I deserved to have him send a "3 days left" reminder the next day. I know I certainly had it on my mind. But no. I just got another inquiry about a restaurant - this time Italian, which I was much more favorable towards - and then another subtle reminder of what was going to happen afterward. It was like my drunk text had never happened.
I didn't hear anything from Snow on Thursday while I was at work, but I found a package waiting for me when I got home. It was a brown box, just small enough to slip through my mail slot, labeled for express delivery. I cursed as I picked it up, vowing to keep to a strict two-beer maximum to avoid anymore surprise purchases like this. I almost didn't open the package, but curiosity eventually got the better of me.
Given what I'd gotten into two nights previously, I was expecting to find another buttplug inside, but that wasn't the case. Instead, I found a quite realistic-looking dildo. Well, it was a realistic shaft, at least. It didn't have balls, like some dildos I'd seen. It did have an expanded base, though, and... Out of curiosity, I flicked the switch I found in the base, and the shaft started to move in my hand. It didn't vibrate, though - the tip of it bent outward and rotated. The motion was erratic, probably random, and certainly like nothing an actual cock could do.
I didn't know how I'd come across the idea of getting one of these, but I was kind of glad I did. I found myself getting wet simply from staring at it, wondering how it might feel to have it inside of me. I debated whether or not to try it out right away, but in the end I turned it off and put it away. I could use it to get myself in the mood later. The longer I waited, the more eager I'd be.
I suppose that was probably true for my plans with Snow, as well. The more I thought about our plans, the more appealing a prospect it seemed. I was still afraid it would hurt, but I was also getting more hopeful that it would feel damn good. Hell, that morning, I'd had to stop myself from fingering my ass in the shower. I wasn't going to spoil this. I was going to wait for Snow.
A bit later that evening, I got a text from Snow: "Hope it arrived by now; only time I'll do this. A little gift for you. Feel free to enjoy it; will use it Saturday for sure."
I stared at my phone for a good minute after receiving that text, trying to decide whether to be angry, flattered, aroused, or angry in the good way. If he hadn't mentioned it would be the only time he'd do this, I might well have decided on simple anger. It felt like a bit much, but the timing of this - two days after my drunk text to him - and the fact that I'd told him about the fact that I'd ordered myself something like this in the past while drunk, made me suspect that this might have been his own peculiar way of teasing me about the drunk text.
Well, if that was it, then I kind of did have some sort of tease coming. So... "anger in the good way" felt appropriate. I found myself texting back a quick reply: "Fucking asshole."
"That's the plan. 10 sharp in two days. No getting out of it," came the reply a minute later. I wish I could say I'd intended to set him up for that. Reading that sent a rush of heat through my body, and it was all I could do resist giving my new toy a test ride right then. I was going to wait if it drove me crazy. Which it was beginning to.