The next day I told David that we are staying at ESCALA he didn't ask why but today it's David birthday I woke up before David & I put on a robe & I decided to make him breakfast in bed & I go to the kitchen & I start making breakfast 2 min later when I am making eggs I felt someone wrap around me & I know it's David
David: morning babe
he said kissing my neck
Phoebe: morning birthday boy
I said smiling
Phoebe: I was going to bring you breakfast in bed
I said
David: it small so good
he said I smiled
Phoebe: good because I am making eggs
I said he smiled
after we finish eating our breakfast I pull out a little box & I gave it to him & when he open the box it's a key & it said 'Playroom' on it he look at me
David: you want to play?
he ask I nod
David: for my birthday?
he ask
Phoebe: yes
I said then he pull his hand out to me
David: come
he said I take it & we go upstairs
IF YOU ARE UNDER AGES OR YOU DON'T WANT TO READ SEX SCENE THEN DON'T READ IT THIS IS A WARING
David pauses outside the playroom.
David: You're sure about this?
he asks, his gaze heated yet anxious.
Phoebe: yes
I murmur, smiling shyly at him.
His eyes soften.
His brow furrows as he unlocks the door, then stands aside to usher me into the room. I feel his eyes on me as he follows me inside and closes the door.
Placing the gift box on the chest of drawers, he takes out the iPod, switches it on, then waves at the music center on the wall so that the smoked glass doors glide silently open. He presses some buttons, and after a moment, the sound of a subway train echoes round the room. He turns it down so that the slow, hypnotic electronic beat that follows becomes ambient. A woman starts to sing, I don't know who she is but her voice is soft yet rasping and the beat is measured, deliberate . . . erotic. Oh my. It's music to make love to.
David turns to face me as I stand in the middle of the room, my heart pounding, my blood singing in my veins, pulsing—or so it feels—in time to the music's seductive beat. He saunters casually over to me and tugs on my chin so I'm no longer biting my lip.
David: What do you want to do, Phoebe?
he murmurs, planting a soft chaste kiss at the corner of my mouth, his fingers still grasping my chin.
Phoebe: It's your birthday. Whatever you want,
whisper. He traces his thumb along my lower lip, his brow creased once more.
David: Are we in here because you think I want to be in here?
His words are softly spoken, but he regards me intently.
