The White Queen (S.Rogers)

Chapter 59

As soon as he had the car in park, she was out of it. Steve blinked, watching as she stood on the sidewalk, adjusting her coat, before she went around to the trunk. Usually, Brooklyn waited for him to open her door, since she knew he liked to do it, to treat her like a lady. For a moment, he was worried she was upset, by something, anything, that might have happened during their night out. God knew, he had been throwing his fame around a lot tonight. First had been at the restaurant, where he had been a fool enough to believe he would be able to call and make reservations for dinner on New Years Eve, a few days before. Apparently, as the manager he had talked to had explained to him, the nicer the place and the closer it was to either the top of the buildings or to Times Square itself, reservations usually had the places filled up, almost months in advance. But the minute Steve had taken a deep breath and told him who he was, there were accommodations being made for them to eat there. In response, Steve had been eager to put in their meal order before they even got there, as so to make it easier on the staff who would already be over worked that night.

After that, he had been on edge. Brooklyn had almost returned to her normal self, after Sam's visit. She had certainly settled down. He hated that Sam might be right, that spanking her was the wrong thing to be doing, but having her back him up, having her tell Sam that she needed it almost as much as he did, it helped ease his mind in regards to that. That she admitted she wanted and needed it almost as much as he did, for some of the same reasons, was such a relief.

That hadn't meant that things had returned to how they used to be. They had had sex, in the days between Sam's visit and New Years. But unlike the times before, it had been easy, quick, and he wasn't sure she still was out of her head yet. Her touches had been hesitant, almost reserved. He was desperate to regain the footing they had before, to get back to where they were before she had broken down.

So, yes, the minute he had heard they were going to be given a private room, he had begun to plan how to use it to his own advantage. He definitely wanted to feed her, to make sure that every bite that went into her mouth was accounted for. He had intended to baby her, to give her a beautiful, private meal. He had hoped to maybe have a moment or two of foreplay. Something to work her up, before they went home. He had believed that he would be able to tease her through out the night, so that when he finally got her back to the apartment, that she would be beyond her head when they got there, so that maybe she would jump him, and he would be able to fix whatever was strained between them.

Instead, he took that coat off of her in the private room, and all his plans about taking things slowly throughout the night went out the window. That dress, if it could even be called a dress, was obscene. It was practically see through, almost exposing more than it hid. The moment he had seen her bare back, exposed from her neck to just above the crease of her buttocks, he became so hard so fast, it felt like he had been punched in the gut. Even staring at her back, he knew without even waiting for her confirmation, that she was all but naked under that dress.

Having her prove it, after they had been seated, pulling his hand under her dress, had made him change his plans, evolve them, so that they really would be able to use the privacy that they had been afforded. No longer did he think that he was going to be able to keep working her up, until she was rabid for him the moment they got back to the apartment. Now he knew that they were not leaving that room, until she had cum for him, at least once. Once she had shown and told him that all that covered her under that dress was a thin, string like bit of lace, which curved over her hips, to a small patch of open lace between her legs, he had known that she would be cumming for him before he had originally planned.

And indeed, she had. A soon as the food was on the table, and the waiter and the waitress out the door, he had stripped down to his shirt, not wanting to be bound by his jacket, rolling up his sleeves, so he felt a bit freer, before he asked her about her experience with seafood. His own was limited, it mainly being only really for special occasions, and high society parties, before his time in the ice. Afterwards, the price was still prohibitive, for his own personal use, but living in the Tower had exposed him a bit more, in that time.