Domestic Mission, Part 3
Smut, Tony/Pepper
Our next few dates go much the same, except that we actually go places. The second date, I take her to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Except I reserve the entire restaurant, so we won't have to deal with any gawkers.
Third date, we visit a friend of mine in Dubai, staying in his luxurious villa for a week. Separate bedrooms, though, hard as it is when I see Pepper lounging by the massive pool in her little blue bikini. Still, I've decided that the best way to convince her that this is New Tony she's dealing with, is to let her decide when things will move to the next level.
It's not easy, though. Except when it comes to engineering, I'm not a patient man. I'm used to getting women into bed in under sixty seconds, practically, so this is entirely new territory. Not that I don't like it, the wait is a kind of pleasant torment, but let's face it, it also has its frustrations.
Fourth date, though, we're back at the Malibu mansion for another intimate dinner. I had something more grand planned, a theatre show and another supposedly-impossible-to-book restaurant reservation, but an Iron Man mission that took longer than expected ruined those plans. But that's my new reality.
Apparently, that's not the only change. This time, as I move to escort Pepper to the limo, as has become my habit, she stops me. "Tell Happy he has the night off, Tony," she says softly, looking at me almost shyly, and my heart leaps in my chest. Something else 'leaps' too, so to speak, but let's not go there.
I instruct Jarvis to let Happy know he's free to leave, and I let Pepper lead me off to wherever she wants to go in the mansion.
It turns out to be the guest bedroom, rarely used but kept impeccably clean regardless. Not my bedroom, but I think I can figure out why. When she pulls me close and we kiss for the first time, I decide it's not important enough to figure it out.
Her lips are soft and her perfume is intoxicating, and I decide no act of passion I've ever engaged in, in the past, comes close to this. I think I'll die if I don't keep kissing her, though of course I don't. Die, that is.
Her skin is silkier than her dress, when she helps me remove it, her breasts gorgeous and lightly freckled. Her hands skim over the arc reactor, and I can see from her face that she remembers changing it for me, the things that were said. All true.
Pepper's touch is firm, even teasing, when I finally get my pants off and New Tony the Second is freed. I almost make a crack about how her 'personal assistant' capabilities are even more 'personal' – though excellent – than I realized, but I can't seem to get my mouth to work. Oh well, maybe later.
I touch her, softly stroking her clit, and she shudders and whispers my name, tightening her grip around me. Our eyes meet, and it's so intimate that I almost have to look away, but it also feels so very right.
When I'm finally inside her, it's almost unreal. It's not only that it's been months since my last sexcapade, but it's also that it's her.
And I love her.
I won't tell her that right now, it seems tacky to say it for the first time right in the middle of lust, but when we finish satisfying each other and we're lying in each other's arms, I can tell from her eyes that she knows. I don't have to say it.
Mission completed.