Chapter 93

"Alright," he murmured, kissing her again before he released his hold on her face, "You go on through there and wait for me."

She swallowed and nodded before doing as he'd bid, looking over her shoulder as she went through for him to give her a nod and a soft smile of reassurance. He took his time closing the shop doors and locking them, pulling the curtain over and shutting the back door to ensure their privacy before he went through to the front room. She stood by the sofa, standing on one leg and tucking one ankle nervously behind the other then moving it across the front, swinging it around and he went the long way to the front door so he could kiss her on her forehead and squeeze her waist on his way by.

He knew her well enough now that to him it was entirely obvious how nervous she was – the set of her little face, the slight question in her eyes, the way her shoulders were pulled down and her chin jutted just slightly defiantly up, that small moving of her foot. But to anyone who didn't know her, she'd look as blank as he had once thought she looked, he imagined.

He locked the front door and drew the curtains at the window too before turning and sweeping his eyes up and down her from where he stood. He took his time unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up, noting the way her eyes focussed on the movements of his hands, noticing the way her breathing seemed to hitch just slightly as his forearms were exposed.

She watched him take the few steps to the sofa and offered no resistance as he took her hand, squeezed it and tugged her gently down and across his knee.

"Over we go, good girl, that's it," he encouraged her quietly, circling one arm under her stomach to support her as she came down, releasing her hand so he could place his on her back, letting her know he had her.

Once she was in position, he slid the hand from her back down to her nicely presented arse, giving it a reassuring pat before stilling his hand against it, letting her adjust to its presence, moving his other hand from under her to hold her waist, rubbing slightly up and down, enjoying the curve of her.

"Before we get started my darling girl, you've done nothing wrong, alright? This is not a punishment, you hear me? You did a very difficult thing tonight and I'm proud of you – this is simply to help you clear out the smoke and mud in your head, alright?"

She whispered out her understanding.

"Good girl," he replied, patting her arse, "We've talked before about the different types of spanking – and this isn't going to be quite a good girl spanking, though we could maybe end it that way if you like after you've had your release, but it isn't a punishment either. If you want me to stop at any time sweetheart, just like with everything we do – as long as it isn't you being punished – you just tell me and it stops alright, you understand?"

"Yes Tommy," came another quiet reply.

"Good girl," he said again, another pat to accompany his words, then he began to rub and squeeze at her backside, preparing it slightly so his first smacks wouldn't land quite so coldly, "Now it's perfectly natural that when you're getting a spanking you might want to protest for me to stop because it's sore and part of you will want it to stop. But if you ignore that bit and you listen to what's deeper in your that needs this to be released, you'll know if you really want it stopped or not, does that make sense?"

She had her face turned to the wall and he watched her give a slight nod.

"Alright," he said, squeezing at one her buttocks, enjoying the way it moved for him, "So because of that I won't stop if you say stop, okay? If you really want me to stop, I want you to say, ehh..." he trailed off, racking his brains, "Victoria sponge, alright?"

It elicited a little amusement in her, signified by a small exhale through her nose and, from what he could see, a slightly upturn of her lips. Still, a little amusement wouldn't do.

"Rosie – I'm being serious here," he said, hardening his voice, "Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand Tommy," she answered softly.

"So what do you say if you want me to stop?"

"Victoria sponge," she said, moving her eyes to meet his for the first time since she'd lain over his lap and smile slightly.

"Good girl," he said, smiling back and squeezing at both her waist and her arse with his respectively hand hands, keeping the pressure on her waist, "Alright – I'm going to start, and this spanking is to get you an emotional release, so you're going to be my good girl and try your best to relax and let go, alright?"

"Yes Tommy."

"Good girl, here we go," he said, lifting his hand and bringing it down in a heavy pat, landing it and holding it before raising it and repeating the action on the other side.

Truth be told, he had never given a spanking like this – one that was for the emotional release. And he knew she'd need the fire in her arse to tip her over, but he also figured she needed time, so he'd build up slowly with the intensity of his smacks.

He fell into a steady rhythm, spanking side to side, building up to a point where he was landing proper smacks that would build together to create the heat she needed, but which weren't enough individually that they would distract her from the steady, pendulum swing of his hand to each side of her plump arse as she lay across his lap.

She was still, like she'd been the very first time he'd spanked her – and just like that time, he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. He knew as well as anyone about mentally checking out during a spanking. But he hoped this time she was checking in with herself, delving far into her emotions, trying to be good for him and bring them out like he'd asked, rather than delving out, removing herself from the situation.

"Doing well sweetheart," he encouraged, keeping his hand metronomically moving across her.

She gave a little wriggle at his words.

"You were such a good girl tonight, I'm so proud of you for doing what you did."

"Thank you, Tommy," she whispered, her voice a little shaky.

"Remember we talked about communication?"

"Yes," she replied, letting out a little yelp as he took his smacks up another notch.

"Do you want me to talk to you or are you happier working through things in your head my darling girl?" he asked her not letting his words interfere with the rhythm of his hand on her arse, "It's up to you – I just want you to have your emotional release and I need to know if this silence lets you focus and work towards that or if you'd rather I spoke to you? It's whatever works for you my love, but I need you to let me know what that is."

"I'm okay with it being quiet Tommy," she murmured.

"Alright," he nodded, "But whatever I can do to help you, whatever you need from me, you let me know, alright?"

"Yes."

He slid into his own silence then, listening to the sounds of his hand on her arse, the sharp smacks almost somewhat at odds with the softness of her. She wasn't quite so still and silent now as she had been at first, a little wriggling was going on – though it was such a small, contained little movement that he could have written it off as simply the jiggle of her under his hand had he not had her over his knee, had he not been able to feel the movement of the front of her against his leg, the material of her dress moving against his trouser.

His hubris of earlier was biting him already – so sure he knew her, so proud he could recognise the signs of her nerves. Now, across his knee, quiet and in her own head, when he had nothing but the slight shimmying of her mid-section to judge by, she was becoming a mystery to him again. And he didn't like it.

His body had reacted to his thoughts, he had picked up the tempo of the spanking entirely subconsciously. It was selfish, but the fact her wriggling also picked up in response pleased him.

Her legs started to shift a little too. The small sofa wasn't long enough to accommodate her entire length and with her body resting on the seat next to him, her feet were on the floor, her toes drumming just slightly. He remembered the first spanking, when he'd picked her legs up off the floor, bent them so her knees were on the couch and her ankles on the arm rest, and he brought her into the position again. It flattened the curve of her arse slightly, but she let out a little sigh as he moved her, all her weight flat on the sofa as if she was more relaxed for it.

"Doing well darling, just let it out," he murmured, patting at the back of her firm thigh before returning to his spanking.

He had been back at it for a minute or so when she spoke quietly – so quietly had he been paying less attention he would have missed it, "Tommy?"

He could see, as she turned her face to the wall to speak to him, that no tears had fallen yet, but her face was red and slightly blotchy, as if she wasn't far off, and her voice wobbled.

"What is it darling?" he asked, his left hand leaving her waist to comb itself through her hair, his right hand stilling, laid heavily on her backside whilst he waited for her to speak.

"Could you go harder? Please?" she whispered, addressing the wall before looking up to him, her eyes wide and slightly wary, as if she was embarrassed to ask, "I'm nearly there but I just…"

"You need tipped over," he nodded, still stroking her hair, "Alright my love. It's going to hurt so you just connect in and let it take you over, alright?"

She nodded, "Thank you."

"Whatever you need my darling girl, whenever you need it – I promise. For all of my days," he told her, then patted her head a final time before moving his hand back to take a grip on her waist.

She pressed her face back around into where she had folded her arms in front of her, burying it from his sight again, readying herself for what she thought was coming.

He raised his right hand, then paused mid-air. The truth was, he had been going pretty hard. He had been trying to get it to end for his own sake as much as hers.

It didn't sit right within him, the high tolerance he knew she had for bearing pain without reacting visibly. And he knew, from the way she had just spoken to him, from the shake in her voice and from the way she'd looked at him, that that wasn't what she was doing now. She wanted her emotional release as much as he wanted her to have it. And she'd told him what she needed to get her there, how he could help her.

But something stuck in his throat at the idea of inflicting it whilst he was blind to it's affects.

And so he brought his hand down, not to her arse, but to the back of her knee, and tugged at the fabric of her dress, gathering it up and lifting it up, bunching it at her waist.

She moved her head to look back around at him, questions in her eyes.

There was no girdle in place tonight, thankfully.

"If I'm going harder sweetheart, I want to be able to see your skin. You're a stubborn little thing, eh?" he offered her, raising an eyebrow, "You lie there and take a spanking and a half before I get anything back from you. And I admire it, don't get me wrong, you're a headstrong – and a plainly strong – little thing, but I want to see what I'm doing for my own peace of mind. I'm going to take care of you and if you need a spanking to push you over the edge and get your smoke and mud cleared out then so be it, but I'm not willing to administer it if I can't be sure I'm fully informed of the impact I'm making."

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded, moving her head back.

Her knickers had pushed up slightly as it was with her own movement, but he hooked his fingers into the waistband at the back and pulled them up further, eliciting a little wriggle from her as he did so.

The fabric which had been at her thigh was now just brushing their tops, the slight curve of her cheeks visible beneath the heightened hem. The redness in her arse and the tops of her thighs was almost startling against the whiteness of her lower thighs and he felt his cock harden even further than it already had done at the sight. Her black stockings at one end, held in place by her garters just above her knees, the strip of white, untouched skin at the top of the black giving way to the pink and then hurtling into the red, which disappeared under the thick champagne coloured silk of her underwear. It was like a painting. A painting he had helped create on the canvas of her body.

He was a greedy artist though – and the slight sight of her arse, just peeking out from under the silk, wasn't enough. He took the fabric that still covered her and lifted it, uncovering one cheek as much as he could, tucking the excess fabric into the crack of her arse to hold it out of his way, running his hand over the newly exposed lower half of her buttock, pinching it, grasping at it, rubbing it and watching it move before he repeated the action on the other side.

He didn't trust himself to unbutton her underwear and pull it to her knees, but this got him the exposure he needed.

With the majority of her knickers between her own cheeks, he stroked his finger along the dimples on the bottom of her arse and the tops of her thighs, practically sighing himself in content as he realised that this arse, so willingly presented to him, was his to do as he liked with for the rest of his days.

Still, he gave himself a shake and cleared his throat gruffly. Now wasn't the time for that. Now was about her.

"Alright, here we go," he told her, then raised his hand again and brought it down properly this time, smacking the, for all intents and purposes, naked right cheek on his lap, following sharply with a crack to the left.

He was hard already, and he was trying not to be, given this spanking was about her and not him, or even them, but it was impossible. Now that he could see that jiggle entirely unimpeded, now that he could watch the impact of his hand flattening the hot, red curved flesh out as it struck, then delight in watching the ripple of that impact move through her, before watching the curve return as he lifted his hand – he hadn't a hope in hell of not being hard.

He went back to the tempo he had been spanking at, moving his hand side to side and landing it, in all honestly, not much harder than he had been before.

But whether the difference in getting your bare skin spanked in place of covered skin was mental or physical – he had always maintained from his own experiences that he didn't reckon it was all that much more painful to be punished on his bare arse but, whilst he held no embarrassment over his naked form and never had done, he'd concede there was a certain feeling of helplessness that he didn't care for as he'd lain over his mother's lap or been stood in front of her and felt her yank at his clothing – it was a difference.

And it was a difference that was making a difference in her. She rocked her hips more, wriggled more, moved her legs more. She even started making noise – nothing loud, but soft regular little oohs, ohs and ahs escaped her almost with every swat now.

God, it was beautiful – to watch her over his lap, kicking and shimmying that pretty arse and now – lord have mercy – arching it up to him, pushing it up and out at him, her back dipping, her toes drumming.

She was close to her release.

The second time he'd spanked her – after he'd brought her back from The Garrison in that bloody dress – it hadn't gotten to this point. And other than that her spankings had been for their own enjoyment. It had been a while now since her first proper spanking in this room, on this sofa. March, it had been. It was the last week of August now, September was next week. Near enough six months.

He'd almost forgotten, in those six months, how long and hard that spanking had been – far beyond anything he'd ever had to deliver to Ada or Finn to get them back in line. He supposed the spanking required had to outweigh the guilt felt and perhaps Rosie's need for this level of spanking was more to do with the fact that she blamed herself for far more than was ever her fault. He suspected, from what she'd said before, about liking knowing that when she displeased him she'd get her spanking and they'd move on, that the spanking helped her forgive herself and draw a line under feelings that would otherwise eat away at her, even if they shouldn't. He wondered what she was working through in her head this time, what it was the spanking had to overcome tonight to get her the release she needed.

What he thought he hadn't forgotten had been the sight of her arching her back, presenting her arse up to him, practically physically begging him for a spanking. In reality though, he had slightly forgotten it. The picture that he thought he'd stored accurately in his head, the picture he closed his eyes and revisited plenty, wasn't a patch on the real thing in terms of its beauty.

And though he'd spanked her for their mutual enjoyment, there was a different feeling to seeing her stick her arse out for his hand in this power exchange, in this dynamic where she craved the discipline he so enjoyed bestowing upon her. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate when she adopted to his pleasures and played the part of a naughty girl who needed a spanking, but the experiences were different. Anyone, he reckoned, could play the parts they played in their games.

But this, tonight, it was visceral and raw in its emotion, in her willing and offered submission to his guidance for something real and tangible that she needed to unravel. Although he was moving quickly, his hand colliding with her arse, the air moving around them thanks to both his movements and hers, and moving further due to the vibrations of the sounds - the smacks themselves, the skin-to-skin contact, the rustling of her dress against his trouser as she wriggled and even her own little grunts and groans – there was a deep sense of calm present too. A calm he couldn't quite quantify or explain because there was nothing calm about their actions or the results of their actions, but he felt it nonetheless. He was at peace, watching the skin on her arse and feeling the skin on his right hand flame together, heat together, burn together – and he was sure she felt at peace too.

It felt right. It felt sure. Like they were both in the positions they belonged in.

She flopped suddenly, her wriggling ceasing, her weight descending fully onto him as she let go, her face buried in her arms and he stilled his hand, letting it lie against her hot, scarlet skin, moving the other to run up and down her spine, feeling the shake of her shoulders and back as she cried.

"There we go, that's my brave girl, you let go of it all my love," he soothed, rubbing her back as he spoke before sliding his hand under her, "Come on, up you come to me, eh?"

But she surprised him by resisting and shaking her head, "Let me s-stay here, Tommy, p-please," she managed to sob out, her voice muffled as she kept her face pushed into her arms.

"You sure?" he asked, his forehead wrinkling slightly.

She nodded, her voice still stammering as she slowly bit out, "Just keep your hands on me, Tommy, please. Let me be alone but don't leave me alone."

It took her forever to get it out, giving way between syllables and words to gasps and sobs that shook her, but he thought he understood.

"I've told you before my love, I'm always here for you, whenever you need me, and I'm not going anywhere," he murmured, doing as she'd asked and keeping his hands connected to her – one on her top half, stroking between her head and her back, the rubbing circles across her arse, trying to soothe the fire he had put there.

She cried quietly into her folded arms and, once she was done, she lay still, her breathing returning to normal. He didn't push her, just kept up his rubbing, sometimes trailing the hand that was tending to her backside down her thighs and back up, but always keeping the contact, his eyes on the back of her head, watching for the slightest movement, wishing she'd turn her head to the side so he could at least see half of her beautiful little face.

Indeed, he was so focussed on watching her head that at first he missed what she was doing. It wasn't until his lower hand took its journey down one leg, across one ankle to the other and back up that he noticed the way she was lifting her hips again, arching as she had done when she was over his lap getting her spanking.

He held his breath and squeezed slightly at her buttock, still exposed, her knickers still pushed into herself, and she let out a little moan and pushed firmly up against his hand.

"You all cried out darling?" he asked in a low voice, not wanting to presume.

She nodded.

"You did so well," he told her, squeezing and rolling the flesh beneath his fingers, feeling her hips move to press to him as he did so, "I'm so proud of you sweetheart, I know how difficult it is for you to let go of that tension, eh?"

She nodded again. Still non-verbal but at least she was communicating with him.

"You're my good girl, aren't you my little loli phabai?"

"Yes Tommy," she said, her voice barely audible.

He trailed his hand along the curve of the bottom of her cheek, pushing his thumb into the crevice where her arse curved under to join to her thigh, then change his angle slightly and slid a single finger into the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs, pushing it against the silk of her gusset, feeling her heat and damp through the material.

"You want a good girl reward my love?"

She nodded and squirmed against his finger.

He smiled and moved the finger out, splaying his hand across her thigh and digging it in, tugging at it, "I think we'll have these legs spread nice and open for me then my darling, eh?"

When her silk enclosed cunt was spread to him, he ran two fingers firmly up and down it, telling her what a good girl she was, how proud he was of her, enjoying the way she pushed against him, squirming to increase the pressure.

"Eager little thing, eh?" he chuckled, tapping at her, eliciting a groan.

He moved a single finger lazily up her, trailing it into the join of her arse, feeling his way through the material he had tucked there. She let out a little squeak as he did so, then, just as he felt her puckered little hole under his finger, she froze.

Oh.

He moved his finger over it, going further up, coincidentally pushing more of the excess material out of the way. She relaxed as he moved off of it, but he tested his theory – allowing his finger to linger at the same spot again on his way back down. Again, she froze.

"Relax my love," he murmured, circling the pad of his finger over the tight little opening.

"Tommy," she whined, sounding almost panicked, slightly strained, her back moving as if she was going to push herself up.

It was the same tone she'd used the first time he'd touched her, when she'd garbled to him about the lasagne she'd made for dinner. She'd frozen in his arms then too, when he'd taken hold of her.

He kept his right hand circling on her little hole, used his left to push her back firmly back down, rubbing there too.

"What are you panicking about my love?" he murmured, "It's just you and me."

"I…" she started to respond, then let out an involuntary groan as he increased his pressure.

"Just relax, let me make you feel good sweetheart," he crooned at her, "Good girls deserve to feel good – and you're such a good girl, aren't you my darling? And it does feel good, doesn't it?"

"Tommy," she groaned out his name, but he felt her relax under his touching, her hole becoming less tight, even allowing his finger tip to push in a little.

She let out another one of those panicked little mews.

"Shh," he told her, "Just relax."

He had told her what to say to stop it – she knew she could stop it at any time. And she wasn't saying it.

With his finger tip just slightly inside her back hole, he continued to circle, pushing the silk of her knickers slightly in as a result – he could see the material pulling taut. Intrigued, he pushed in slightly deeper, making her cry out, then slowly pulled his finger out, letting the material stay in. He left off with rubbing her back and took a cheek in in each hand, pulling them apart, taking a good look at the sight of her knickers pushed into her back entrance, the tiny little opening outlined by the material, the shape of her clearly outlined from one entrance to the other thanks to the tautness of the material. It was almost enough to make a man cum in his trousers.

"You like having a stuffed little arse sweetheart?" he asked, squeezing at her cheeks with his fingers.

She moaned, but didn't answer properly.

He chuckled, "You embarrassed, eh? Well my love, my fingers are about to travel to your other little hole and if I find it all warm and wet for me, like I'm hoping I will, that's going to answer the question for me, isn't it?"

She moaned again, her head moving slightly as if she was hoping to push her forehead further into her arms.

"I'm going to be so pleased with you if I find you wet, so am I going to be pleased Rosie?"

She nodded slowly, a tiny movement.

"And is that because you like me playing here?" he asked, pushing a finger down to the little opening, tapping at it, moving across it, moving the material within her.

She groaned, kicking her legs a little – but nodded.

"Words sweetheart – I want to hear you," he cooed, knowing he was probably pushing dangerously near her limits, but enjoying it too much to reign himself in.

"Yes, I like you being there," she whispered.

It wasn't quite 'Yes Tommy, I love when you claim every inch of me as yours' like he had in his head – but they'd get there in time.

"Good girl," he praised, taking his time to drawl out the words, moving his hands to once again have his left on her waist and his right on her arse, which he patted before moving his hand down to her other entrance, pushing in around the side of her knickers, rubbing against her.

"Or are you a good girl?" he mused aloud, "Given you just fibbed to me."

He felt her tense underneath him, but he ignored it and crooned on, circling around her entrance, "You told me I'd find you wet darling, you've rather understated that, haven't you? Less wet and more soaked, I'd say. Drenched."

On his last word, he pushed his finger slightly in, just as he had done at her other entrance, except this time it wasn't through material.

She gasped at the feeling. It was new, to both of them, he hadn't entered her before.

"Remember what I said," he murmured, "You remember what you can say and I'll stop at any time, alright?"

Christ, it would be hard though. She felt so good around him. But he restrained himself, waited for her nod to show she knew she could stop it – to show she was happy not to stop it – before he pushed his finger in further.

"What a lucky man I am, eh?" he said, beginning to work his finger in and out of her, "To have such a good girl who answers to me – such a good girl who is all mine."

She moaned loudly.

"You like being all mine, eh?"

"Yes!" she grunted, nodding, pushing back against his entering of her, as if wanting to take him deeper, "I love being yours Tommy."

His cock twitched at her words, pre-cum leaking out. She was tight, soaked and hot around his finger. He took his time curling his knuckles slightly, widening her walls a little. They stretched willingly to him.

"What a good girl you are my love, always such a good girl for me," he told her, resuming the thrusting in and out, "You going to cum hard on my finger?"

"Yes sir," she replied.

Sir. For the first time tonight.

He was dangerously close to coming in his fucking shorts. She was so fucking beautiful, so willingly over his lap, her arse hot and red, her knickers pushed into her and filling her back hole, his finger sliding in and out of her other hole. The material had slid to the side and he could see about as much as he could cope with of her, the fleshy outer part of one side of her, the dark red, almost brown hair that covered her it. He was glad she was face down on his lap, that he was seeing her from this angle, because fuck knew what he'd do if he was seeing her from the front, even being only slightly exposed to him.

He felt her muscles clench slightly and he knew she was close, so he picked up his pace a little. She groaned in pleasure and he felt more moisture trickle down her. He was causing that. He had never been quite so fucking proud in all his life.

She hadn't cum yet though, and he was going to make sure she did, with his finger in her. He was going to feel her climax spasm around him, milk his finger like she'd milk his cock one day, when she was taking him into her to make their kids.

He lifted his left hand from her waist and slid it between her cheeks, finding the tight little pucker again and began circling that in tandem with his fingering between her legs.

"Oh god," she cried, her head lifting off her arms, her back arching.

Another clenching around him.

"Cum hard for me darling, show me what a good girl you are, show me how much you love it that you're mine," he growled, the demands ripping from him without much thought, his two fingers working fast and furious now at each of her entrances.

"Oh god. Oh god! Tommy! Oh. My. God. Thomas!" she whined, tossing her head back, before letting out a long moan just as he felt the moisture washing over him thicken slightly and felt her walls clench and retract against him, the action repeating as she tipped over.

"Good girl," he murmured, not stopping his movement, but slowing the pace a little, letting her ride it out, "That's my good girl."

She let out a gasp as she finished, her forehead once again coming to rest on her arm as she flopped a little, the tension gone from her entirely both mentally and physically.

"Come on, up to me," he murmured, sliding a hand under her stomach, pulling her up.

She didn't resist this time, she came willingly, her hands going to his neck, sliding up behind his ears exactly as he liked as she pushed her mouth to his.

"That. Was. Amazing," she told him between kisses.

"Glad you were satisfied my love," he replied, his tone slightly cocky – pleased with himself.

"I was very satisfied," she replied, sliding herself back off of his lap, standing in front of him, bent over the sofa to still be landing kisses across his mouth and jawline – but her hands went to his crotch.

"Rosie," he said between gritted teeth, warning her off.

"Tommy, you just made me see fucking stars," she told him, "Let me do this. I want to do this."

"Rosie, I'm about to cum as it is, you really don't have to."

"I know I don't have to Thomas," she cut across him, her own teeth sounding like they might be gritting too now, "I want to."

He put a hand on her chin and pushed her back from where she was speaking into his ear, letting himself get a good look at her face – at that stubborn little set of her eyes. He had managed in the car and in his own bed to cum against her without losing control completely. And he was sure she was satisfied – that she wasn't going to feel he was using her…

"Are you sure?" he finally asked.

He watched her eyes start to sparkle a little as she smiled, seeming almost relieved that he was about to let her continue, and nodded, "I'm sure. Very sure. I want to please you Tommy."

"You do, my love," he told her, his hand moving from her chin to her hair, "And I don't need you to do anymore than you do."

"But you would like it?" she asked, searching for that reassurance.

He nodded slightly stiffly.

He would like it very fucking much.

"Yes," he grunted, "But just so we're clear – you answer to me. But the flip side of that is that I look after you. You will always come first – and I will, the majority of the time, want your pleasure more than my own. Mine very much comes from you, do you understand?"

She nodded and kissed him again before going back to what she had been doing – unbuttoning his trousers, running her hand along his length through his shorts.

He twitched at the slight touch – so on the verge he might cum from it alone.

She stood straight and her hands disappeared under her dress.

"Rosie – what the fuck?" he growled, sitting straighter as her knickers fell to her ankles.

"Shh," she whispered, kissing him to make him quiet, kicking her underwear from around her ankles, climbing on top and spreading her knees over him, "Trust me Tommy. I answer to you – and I take your guidance. I know you don't want to risk getting me pregnant now, but there are things I can do for you. I've been researching."

"Researching?" he grunted, trying to sound snippy – but failing miserably, a groan escaping him as she settled herself, hot and wet, down against him.

Even through the cotton of his shorts he could feel the slick evidence of her own recent orgasm and she began to move her hips, sliding him up and down.

He had thought she had been going to use her hand. This was… Fuck. This was good. It was torturous too, knowing and feeling that she was naked and spread around him. God, he wanted to look, to see her – but that wasn't something he trusted himself to do.

He could feel though, he was already doing that, so he ran his hands up her legs, disappearing under the dress that was pooled around the two of them, his hands finding her bare arse and grabbing at it, using it to control the speed she was moving at.

He gripped tightly and pushed himself up against her, the two of them moving faster and faster until he came in his shorts like a fucking teenager, his own pleasure causing a short huff of breath to escape him, his face pushing itself into her neck, his eyes screwed shut so he too could see stars as he came against her, inhaling the scent of her skin as he did so.

"Was that good?" she asked him, biting her lip, once he'd removed his head from the crook of her neck and fallen back against the sofa.

"Yes," he assured her with a contented sight, lifting a heavy and lazy hand to run it through her unruly hair, "That was very, very good."

Hello! I am so sorry about the delay in this - it was supposed to be ready to go up last Sunday as usual, but the week was super busy and then the planned brunch I went to on Sunday morning turned into a rather unplanned night out and this week has been more of the same so I've been struggling for time to write.

Part of that, in fun (for me at least!) news, is because I've been snowed under with work the past few weeks because I am finishing up today to go on a staycation for 2 weeks with my partner, which I'm very much looking forward to.

However, I've decided to take the time off properly and not take my laptop away - I think it would be a bit awkward anyway for me to be away with him for two weeks and be trying to find time to sneak away and do my secret writing project (he has no need to know about my Peaky Blinders Fanfiction adventures!)

So, just so we don't have a repeat of this week where you guys don't know what's happening, I'm going to officially say there won't be any update for the next 2 Sundays (11th & 18th) whilst I'm away and we will pick up with the next chapter on Sunday 25th July.