"I need to make a quick stop."
Christine stared out of the car window. She didn't pick at her sleeve or fidget in her seat or pull nervously at her seat belt. For the first time in a long time, she didn't really feel anxious. He wasn't any different than the man she had been seeing through her webcam for months. The only thing that really changed was that he could actually touch her now.
And she found out that she really, really liked it when he touched her.
"It's really obnoxious that they won't accept a digital signature when it's the same damn thing they're going to get when I stop in," he was saying, somehow managing to maneuver into the outside lane of traffic despite the fact that Christine was almost sure the car wouldn't fit. "It should only take a minute."
There were a lot of things that she could have asked, but none of them seemed terribly important when she glanced over at him. She was pretty sure that the only reason he had dressed himself down was so that she wouldn't feel embarrassed standing next to him; it was, perhaps, the very first time she had actually seen him in blue jeans and tennis shoes. His t-shirt was a plain black and she had the strangest suspicion that it was one of the first times he had worn it. It was pristine, like he had just cut the tags off of it that morning, but she didn't mind much. He almost always wore long sleeves and she kind of liked looking at his tattoos.
If Christine had walked past him on the street that day, the only thing that would have made her pause was the mask he wore. He looked remarkably ordinary and she couldn't help but wonder if that was what really soothed her anxiety.
He parked in the street, with her door against the sidewalk, and looked over at her. "I need you to come in with me, princess."
When she looked up at the building she recognized it. It was the same big, black building he had pointed out to her on their way home from the airport. It looked a lot bigger up close than it did from the expressway and she stared at a woman making her way inside, wearing a pant suit with her hair pulled up. "I'm not dressed right," she tried, suddenly feeling a small bubble of anxiety.
"And I am?" he asked with a laugh. "No one will care. It'll only take five minutes, I promise."
Christine frowned, looking down at the jagged scars peeking out from under her three-quarter sleeve. "Then I can wait here," she said slowly. "You can take your keys, I won't steal your car, Daddy. I'm too scared to drive it even if I wanted to."
"I'm not worried about you stealing anything," he said, and she could hear the frown in his voice before she even looked at him. "Sweetheart, if you don't come in with me they'll get me all tied up. I really do need you to come in or it's going to be really difficult to get away."
"Is it 'cause of all the time you took off for me?"
"No," he answered easily. "I can get emails at home. It's just a finicky client, that's all."
Christine huffed and looked back up at the pretty building with a frown. "And you're really sure no one will care that I'm dressed like a homeless person?"
"First of all, you don't look homeless," he laughed. "You're very cute today, babygirl. And no. I'm certain that no one will care."
"... Okay," she agreed reluctantly. "If no one will really care I'll go."
Two of his fingers turned her chin toward him and his kiss was gentle. "Thank you," he said softly.
It didn't really soothe her anxiety at all when she took his arm but she was bound and determined; she refused to embarrass him, especially at work, so she fought the urge to fidget and stare down at her feet and instead she kept her head up and forced herself to smile as they passed by people that glanced their way, hoping that it didn't look too terribly painful.
He reached around her to open the door and Christine paused only a few steps in, staring up at the ceiling. A large, glittering chandelier hung from high over her head. The entire lobby seemed more like the reception area in a luxury hotel or the entrance to an antiquated theater than it did an office building. Everything was shining and bright and she was pretty sure no matter how hard she searched, she wouldn't find a single spec of dust.
"First impressions are important," Erik murmured to her. "Particularly when you're selling design. You get used to it eventually."
"I don't think I could," she admitted.
He gestured up at the vaulted ceiling vaguely. "I always thought it was a bit too gaudy, myself, but it seems to do well enough."
Christine shifted her grip on his arm. "I think it's really pretty."
"Thank you," he answered, gently urging her along. "The rest isn't quite as impressive. Come on, sweetheart."
He gave a familiar nod to the woman at the service desk and she acknowledged it with half a wave as they walked past.
And Christine was relieved to find out that he was right. The elevator was pretty standard other than the mirror that lined the back walls and when it dinged and the doors opened, the walls and floors of the hallway they faced were no more fancy than any other office building she had seen.
He stopped a few feet down the hallway and glanced at her. "I should warn you," he said as though the thought had only just occurred to him. "My secretary's name is Beverly. She is a very kind woman, but she can be a bit much. If you just smile and nod it will be more than enough for her. She loves everyone."
Christine forced a smile at him, and he stared at her for a long moment before he finally broke with a chuckle.
"Good enough," he answered. "We'll work on it."
Other than running her pointer finger along the inside of his arm, Christine thought she managed to hold herself together fairly well. His office was a little nicer than the hallways they travelled. There was a big glass window next to the door and she could see who she could only assume to be Beverly through it, concentrating completely on the screen of a computer monitor. The walls had a warm wood paneling and he didn't hesitate at all before he pulled the door open and led her inside.
Beverly's hair was a grey-blonde and she was definitely older. She had smile lines and something about her appearance really did set Christine at ease.
"Beverly," he greeted the woman kindly. "Working hard or booking your next vacation?"
"Caught me," Beverly answered in good nature, glancing up from the glowing screen. "I'm thinking maybe Cabo."
"Overrated," Erik said, waving his free hand dismissively. "Where is this paperwork that was so important you made me drive all the way in?"
"On your desk, boss," she answered, standing from the chair she was seated in and looking at Christine. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. I figured he would introduce you. I'm Beverly."
Christine took the hand that the woman held out, shaking it awkwardly. "I'm Christine."
"Christine, this is Beverly, my secretary," Erik said unhelpfully. "Beverly, this is Christine. My girlfriend. If you ladies will excuse me for two minutes I'd like to get this taken care of."
Christine, stunned at his flippant use of the word when he had never so much as spoken it to her before, let him go with very little resistance when he patted the top of her hand on his arm gently with his palm. He disappeared through a door to the right of Beverly's desk and it closed behind him.
"Are you local?" Beverly asked, seeming not to pick up on any of the intensely odd feelings that Christine was suddenly struck with.
"No," she answered, the words coming strangely easily to her. "I live in Boston."
"Ah, that's why he's never brought you around. How long have you two been seeing each other?"
Christine shook her head with a slight shrug. "A few months, I think," she answered, suddenly unsure herself. "But this is the first time we've gotten to actually meet in person."
"That's sweet," Beverly said with a genuine smile. "Erik - he can be a little rough around the edges but he's a good boy deep down. It seems like the worst has already passed. I'm very happy for you two."
"Thanks," Christine said softly, tucking her hair nervously behind her ear. "I am, too."
Beverly opened her mouth like she was going to say something but Christine never got to hear what it was; at that moment, the office door swung open and Erik emerged, a manilla envelope in his hand.
"Is there anything else terribly pressing?" he asked Beverly, his eyes on Christine.
"I think that should be it," she answered, taking the packet from his hand and giving Christine a small wink. "You two have a good afternoon."
Christine took his arm when he offered it and all three said a slightly awkward goodbye.
Christine was utterly quiet until they were back in the safety of his car and she was staring up at the building.
"Put on your seatbelt, sweetheart," he reminded her softly, watching as she clicked the buckle into place. "What are you thinking about?"
She looked down at her hands in her lap, at her pitiful scars and the crimson colored string hanging from her sleeve that she was too afraid to pull, worried it would tear the seam. "Did you mean that?" she finally asked.
"Mean what?"
"You called me your girlfriend," she said, peeking over at him.
"Ah," he answered, sitting back slightly against the too-warm leather seat. "It's no use fretting over semantics… I didn't realize I made a secret of it. I very much think of you in that way, Christine. Unless it's that the term bothers you…"
"No," she answered quickly. "It doesn't bother me I just… I was surprised is all."
"I told you in the very beginning that I have no interest in multiple partners," he said thoughtfully. "I find myself particularly invested in you. You are far more than just a warm body to me. You know that, right?"
"Yeah," she agreed, finally tilting her head to look at him completely. "I guess I just don't really know how all this works and when you said that… I dunno. I was just surprised to hear you say that."
"It's a relationship, sweetheart. Just like any other. It just functions a little differently," he said, reaching over to brush a stray curl behind her ear. "Marriage isn't exactly unheard of out of arrangements like these… if it's meant to be, you'll have your moment. It'll click into place."
"What if it doesn't?" she asked nervously, finally finding it in her to voice the thought that had been buzzing in the back of her head from the very first time he had mentioned buying her a plane ticket.
He was quiet for a long moment and she looked down at her hands in her lap, picking nervously at the tip of her nail and after a second, he reached across the car, covering her hands with his to stop her. "Then it's okay," he answered softly. "Not everything is for everyone. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you, or me, or anything. It just means it isn't what you need… I have the strangest feeling that it isn't something you need to worry about. Just give yourself some time and try not to put so much pressure on yourself. Nothing and no one is perfect."
"I think too much," she mumbled. "But I think I needed to hear that."
"The beautiful thing about a relationship like this is that you don't need to worry," he said slowly. "I'll do that for you. Do you remember how nervous you were the first time I called you?"
"Yeah," she admitted.
"And it got easier, didn't it?" he asked softly. "You sang to me and told me jokes, you relaxed. It'll get easier just like that did."
"You're right," she sighed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
His smile was soft. "I know, princess," he teased gently. "That's my whole job."
It was a little too cool near the water. Christine suddenly understood why it was called the windy city and she shivered, tucking herself closer to Erik's arm in an attempt to steal some of his warmth.
He shifted, sliding his arm out from beneath her hand and wrapping it around her shoulders instead, his hand heavy on her upper arm. "You have goosebumps," he pointed out, sounding halfway amused. "Do I need to get you a sweatshirt?"
She huffed, burrowing under his warm arm. "No, she said stubbornly. "I'm fine."
"Mhm," he hummed, not sounding convinced in the slightest.
Christine could almost feel herself relax against him, and when she finally let herself look down the pier, she found herself realizing that it was actually pretty. The ferris wheel and the little ferry boats were almost cute.
"They do dinner tours," Erik said when he saw her looking at the boats. "You have to book in advance, though. If you want to do one, I'll absolutely bring you back."
"No," she answered slowly. "Not today, at least… can we just walk a little bit?"
It was easy.
Even rushed, Christine felt no nervousness at his strangely possessive kiss. His hand against her throat made her heart beat near out of her chest and when he pushed her back against the cold wall of glass windows all that she could do was stare up into his serious eyes, practically holding her breath.
"Do you want to watch the sunset, princess?"
The gruffness in his voice made her shiver and she swallowed hard.
He sighed, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "I will never be mad at you if it's too much," he murmured, one hand finding her hip. His fingers teased their way under the edge of her shirt as he searched her eyes. "Do you want to watch the sunset or are you too cold?"
Cold certainly wasn't what she would call it. She forced herself to take a slow breath. "What if someone sees?"
His kiss was warm and slow as his fingers spread against her waist. "Then they are very lucky," he murmured. "No one will see, princess."
She held his shirt tightly in her hands. She wondered if she would ever get past the butterflies that started fluttering in her stomach every time he touched her. Part of her hoped that she wouldn't. "I want to watch the sunset, Daddy," she said softly, not trusting her voice to say it much louder.
It was almost like the only thing he had been waiting on was her whispered permission. Without hesitation, his hand was sliding up her back under her shirt, fingers seeking the bent clasp of her bra as he kissed her just as hard as he had been a moment before.
Her shirt was rolling up under his warm fingers and he pulled back just the slightest bit.
"Lift your arms for me, babygirl."
For a moment, all that existed in her head was him, his warm breath and hard kisses and hands. She obeyed without hesitation and her shirt and bra were quickly discarded on the floor. His hand found her waist again as his eyes swept over her.
"I want you to turn around," he said, the words a gentle command. "You're missing a very beautiful sunset."
She did as he asked and she felt his hand catch in her hair, pulling it over her shoulder as she gazed out the window. It was just dark enough that she could faintly see their reflection in the glass. His lips brushed against the tight skin just behind her ear and she heard the breathless sound that she made more than she felt it, her eyes slipping closed.
"Are you still afraid of heights?" he asked warmly, his voice almost in her ear.
"Yes," she whispered, rolling up on her toes when his arms slid around her waist. It only took him a moment to unbutton her jeans and his hum was warm.
"And are you still worried that someone will see?"
The only thing she could do was nod, pressing her thighs together tightly, and his free hand wrapped loosely around her throat, pulling her head back against his chest.
"I saw that," he murmured, the hand that had been working at slipping her jeans down moving warmly up her stomach. "I think that you're lying, princess. I think that you hope someone is looking."
Christine swallowed, and she wouldn't have been able to stop the sound she made when he pinched her nipple if she had tried to. She was dizzy, drunk on him and his touch and the warm, halfway teasing lilt of his voice. "Daddy, please," she breathed.
"Its okay if you do," he said slowly, his thumb toying absently with her nipple as he spoke. "I know that I do, do you know that? I want everyone to see that you're mine."
The warm, almost safe feeling that settled into her with his words was completely foreign to her. If Raoul had ever said something like that to her she thought she might've slapped him.
It was different with Erik. Everything was different with Erik and she couldn't pin down what exactly it was that made it that way. It felt something like learning a new language when she was already dead center in the country that spoke it; overwhelming, confusing.
For some reason, though, she wasn't afraid. "I'm yours," she breathed, testing the words on her tongue. Her hand found his wrist, the one against her throat, and she held it loosely.
The kiss that he pressed to the crown of her head was long and surprisingly gentle. "Of course you are," he said softly. "I'm going to fuck you, princess, right against the big, pretty window, and someone might just see. Do you care if someone sees?"
"No," she breathed as a shiver went straight up her spine, almost surprising herself.
"No," he echoed. "No you don't want me to or no you don't care?"
Her hand found the one still toying with her nipple and he let her pull it, guiding it down between her legs. "No I don't care," she said, sounding far more confident than she felt in the moment. "Please, Daddy."
His fingers moved with confidence that she wasn't sure she would ever possess, the pad of one finger rubbing slow circles against her clit through her underwear and for a moment, Christine thought she was actually going to die. "You would have told me no yesterday," he murmured thoughtfully. "I don't think you have anything to be anxious about, princess."
Her lips parted and she stared at their translucent reflections in the window, like two ghosts dancing over the twinkling lights in the distance. At the moment, she felt like maybe that's exactly what they were. She was lightheaded and fairly sure that he wasn't even actually choking her.
"I need you to bend over for me, princess."
Desperate for him, she did exactly that, her hands pressing against the cool glass of the window as he finally, finally, got to finishing undressing her.
For a moment, there was stillness. Just cold air and his warm palm running slowly up and down her hip.
Christine rolled up on her toes, hoping that he could understand her wordless plea, and to her relief, it seemed that he did. She heard rustling from behind her and she took a shaky breath when she felt his hand settle against her lower back, almost holding her in place.
He didn't say anything at all before he slid into her, working his way deep into her body while she let out a breathless, shaky sort of moan, her thighs trembling all on their own. "I do love that sound you make," he murmured, his voice low and hand still heavy on her back. "I hope you never stop making it."
Christine blinked, glancing up in the window, looking past their faint reflection and at the sky. There wasn't much of a sunset to speak of, the sky already a dark purple-grey, the streetlights and buildings starting to twinkle far brighter than the faint smattering of stars studding the sky. She was breathless and when he pushed forward against her, she let her cheek press against the too-cold glass and shivered.
The first tug that he gave her hair was gentle, like he was simply testing her reaction, and her fingers curled against the glass, halfway wishing that she could dig them into it so she actually had something to hold onto.
"Daddy," she breathed. "Harder, please, please."
And Christine wasn't even sure what exactly she meant herself, the rut of his hips or his hand in her hair, all that she knew was that she wanted more of whatever it was that was setting her nerve-endings on fire.
Erik seemed to decide it for her. His free hand dug into the soft flesh of her hip, and the next tug he gave her hair actually forced her head back. "Ah," she breathed in a half-complaint, rolling on her toes to press back against him.
"Am I hurting you?" his voice was gruff.
She watched the way her breath fogged on the glass of the window, obscuring the city and their reflection. "A little bit," she admitted.
"Do you want me to stop?"
She swallowed hard and he gave her hair another gentle tug. "No," she gasped. "Please don't stop, Daddy."
The next tug that he gave to it was so hard that it almost bordered on cruel.
"I'm going to fall, Daddy," she gasped, and she knew that it was a lie strictly because the hold he had on her was firm. She wouldn't fall, not because her legs weren't quaking or because she wasn't dizzy and almost nauseous, she wouldn't fall simply because he wouldn't allow her to.
Still, she felt the way he let her hair slip from his grip, felt the way he tugged her hips back against him once, twice, heard the slow, shaking breath he took. "Okay," he said, his voice low. It took another moment before he actually moved, pulling out of her slowly with a heavy sigh. "Come here, princess."
She was infinitely grateful for the gentle guidance of his hands. Her legs were trembling so hard that she could hardly stand on her own. Gently, he pressed her back against the cold glass of the window.
"Do you need a break?" he asked, brushing her hair out of her eyes with two fingers.
Christine just shook her head, reaching up for him, and she was relieved when he lowered himself for her. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he kissed her gently as his hand coaxed her leg toward him.
"I'm going to pick you up," he murmured, almost like he was warning her.
She nodded, wrapping her leg around his waist when he lowered himself even more for her.
"There you go," he said, the words warm and affectionate. "Your other leg too, princess. I won't drop you. I promise."
"I know you won't," she mumbled, her arms tightening as she pulled her other shaky leg up and hooked her ankles behind his back.
"Good girl," he said warmly, and the affectionate way that he spoke the words made her tremble, her fingers digging into the soft fabric of the shirt he still wore as he pressed her back firmly against the window. "Is this better?"
She stared at him, at his intense eyes and serious face, and suddenly thought that she might have understood the look she saw on the face of the girl whose YouTube videos she had been watching. She thought she might suffocate in the strange feeling and she couldn't think of any other way she'd rather die. "It's better, Daddy," she said quietly, searching his eyes.
His hand was sliding around her, under her leg. "You're so pretty, sweetheart," he murmured. "Do you know that?"
She pinched his shirt nervously, sliding the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. "I know you think so," she admitted softly.
His kiss was soft and quick. "I'm going to help you see it too," he murmured. "I promise."
When he pushed his way back inside of her, she dug her nails into his back and she was pretty sure she felt her eyes roll back in her head. "Oh, God," she moaned, tightening her knees against his sides so he could slip just that much deeper. "Daddy…"
He hummed warmly, his hand wrapping under her leg as he helped her to reposition herself. "What, princess?"
She thought she might like to tell him that she loved him, but she didn't. Instead she let her head fall back against the window and arched her back, trying to meet his too-slow rhythm. "Feel s'good," she mumbled.
He kissed her warmly. "You do," he said, almost like he was agreeing with her. "What do you need, princess?"
She swallowed hard, searching his curious eyes, and her hands slid against his back. "Will you please choke me?" she whispered, half embarrassed by her request.
Only she thought maybe she didn't have to be, because one of his hands wrapped easily around her throat with no hesitation, his fingers digging against just the right spot with practised ease. "Of course I will," he murmured. "All you ever have to do is ask, princess."
He was rougher, this time, and she thought if she could get any air she probably would have gagged. There was no shame in her about the thrill that it sent through her, no embarrassment about the way she dug her heels into his back and the way she thrust herself back against him. He sped up, too, pushing deep and fast, and Christine felt like she was floating, grasping onto the fabric of his shirt like it actually might keep her tethered to something real.
It wasn't until his lips brushed against her cheek that she realized how absolutely overheated she was. "You don't have to ask this time," he said. His voice was steady, if not just a little breathless, but it was like he was shouting to her from the next room over. "God, you're drenched," he groaned. "Such a gorgeous mess for me, princess."
When he let go of her throat she gasped, coughing twice before her grip tightened on him. She buried her hot face against his shoulder, feeling incredibly frayed. She could feel her pulse in every fingertip, in the steady, deep friction of every thrust.
Christine would never know what it was that actually took her apart, if it was the angle of his hips or the way that he groaned, if it was his suddenly gentle touch against her oxygen-deprived skin, all that she knew was that it crept out of nowhere and it was the most intense sensation she had ever felt. She shuddered, she felt the terrible sob that she couldn't stop, and his hand was firm against the back of her head.
His hand smoothed her hair gently as he leaned there with her, back still pressed against the window. "Shh," he said softly. His lips were in her hair, one hand still wrapped warmly under her leg. "It's okay, babygirl. It's okay."
It wasn't even until then that she realized she had started to cry and she thought she might have been embarrassed about it if she didn't suddenly feel so heavy. "I can't breathe," she gasped against his shoulder.
"I know," he murmured, his voice soft and incredibly soothing, his own breath seeming to come in short pants. "It's okay, sweetheart."
She tightened her grip on his shirt just to prove to herself that she could.
He wasn't moving, wasn't doing much of anything other than holding her as he caught his own breath. "It was a lot," he said softly.
She nodded against his shoulder and his hand made another gentle pass through her hair.
"I need to move," he murmured, pressing a warm kiss to her temple. "Can you hold onto me, princess?"
"Yeah," she answered shakily, wrapping her arms comfortably around his neck.
The hand under her leg stayed exactly where it was but his other slid against the skin of her back as they shifted away from the window and the only thing Christine could do was shiver. "I know," he said again, the words soft as he took slow backwards steps. "Watch your legs, sweetheart."
So she did, and when she finally lifted her head from his shoulder and blinked, trying to orient herself, they were sat on the couch. Erik reached blindly, and the soft blanket that she had only just refolded was wrapped over her shoulders.
"That might help," he murmured, voice low. "You're still shivering."
"I don't want to go," she whispered, the words trembling.
"You don't have to go anywhere," he reassured her, his hand warm and firm against her waist. "We can stay right here for as long as you want to."
Christine only shook her head, tightening her arms around his neck. "Home," she whispered shakily. "I don't want to go home."
He rested his chin thoughtfully on top of her head. "We still have a few days yet," he said slowly. "You don't need to worry about that, sweetheart. We still have time."
She swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath. "I was worrying about it before I even got on the plane," she admitted.
His thumb stroked soothingly against her side, the drag of it slow and meaningful. "What else are you worrying about?"
"Everything," she breathed with a shaky laugh, pulling back so that she could wipe at her eyes and actually look at him. "All the time."
He leaned his head back on the couch, and the only thing he seemed to be looking at was her. "Like what?" he asked gently. "I want you to tell me."
"Bills," she said slowly. "And work. And school. And this one time, in third grade, I saw this girl put gum in Meg's hair and she had to cut it all out and I didn't say nothing and I think she's gonna find out and hate me, and that maybe I'll say the wrong thing or be too much and then you'll hate me, too."
His smile was sad as he watched her. "Meg probably doesn't even remember that, sweetheart."
"Oh, she remembers."
His thumb continued its gentle path. "You have anxiety," he murmured. "That's all that is. If you told her now, she would probably laugh… sweetheart, I don't want you to go either. If I could keep you right here that would make me incredibly happy. Everyone says the wrong thing sometimes. I promise I'll tell you if you do."
She pulled the edges of the blanket closer, sniffling. "I don't know what's happening," she admitted in a whisper.
"I got you all worked up and now you're crashing," he murmured. "It happens. It's okay. Totally normal, even."
She couldn't stop shivering and she wasn't even cold anymore. When he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his chest, pressing a warm kiss to her forehead, she was grateful for it. Somehow it felt safer there, tight against him.
"You tell me when and I will get you a plane ticket," he said slowly. "You are always welcome, even if it's just a weekend… it's a short flight. If you need to get away, all you need to do is tell me. I'll always be happy to have you here, princess."
Christine let out the breath that she was pretty sure she had been holding since he first pushed her up against the window. It felt strangely like she was deflating, melting against him, and his hand moved, his thumb stroking gently against her cheek.
"You are mine, princess," he said warmly. "You aren't too much, not at all. You're mine and I'll take care of you. I promise."
She closed her eyes, finally breathing easily for the first time all day, and she felt herself nod against his warm palm.