By the time the plane was landing, Christine's heart was firmly in her stomach, pounding like crazy and making her nauseous.
What if he stinks?
What if he has bad breath?
What if he's really mean?
What if he sees you and hates you?
What if he's really short?
What if you can't find him?
She was glad it was a short flight because she was pretty sure if she had much more time she would've stuffed herself with enough doubt to refuse to get off of the plane. She had no idea what she was walking into. She didn't know the layout of the airport or how to get the bag she had given to the lady at the desk at the first airport back.
Landed, she texted Meg as soon as her phone turned back on.
When she finally managed to find her way out into the crowd trying to get off of the plane, her heart shifted from her stomach and straight up to her throat. It was real. She was going to see him in just a few minutes. What if she hated it? She couldn't turn around now. It was too late. She couldn't afford to get herself back home. That made her a little anxious too. She was completely at his mercy and suddenly she understood why Meg had been so worried about the idea.
I trust him, I trust him, I trust him she repeated to herself as she followed the crowd. She thought that maybe if she followed everyone else she would find where she needed to go.
When she was little she had lost her dad in a store once. The checkout lady had to take her to the guy at the customer service desk. They gave her candy and had to call him on the intercom. Somehow that seemed much more acceptable at six than it did at nineteen.
You have a phone now, dork she reminded herself.
A phone. She almost laughed at herself. I made it, Daddy she texted him, staring at the screen and walking along slowly behind the crowd.
She wasn't sure how long she walked before her phone finally buzzed. I know. I see you, sweetheart.
Christine stopped dead in her tracks and looked up - that wasn't him, that wasn't him, that -
He was there, standing near the wall and a bench, staring straight at her. It took a minute to remind her body how to move and he lifted one hand in a subdued wave, that familiar half-smile finding its way to his lips.
He took one step forward and suddenly she was flying at him.
Seeing him had always calmed her, even through the webcam. Suddenly all her doubts seemed so far away and the next thing she knew he had caught her and her legs were wrapped around his waist, her face pressed against his throat.
He was warm. He was warm and solid and she was pretty sure the tears that she felt wetting her face were from happiness.
His cologne had a warm scent and the only other thing she could smell was soap. That was relieving.
"You're so small, princess," he whispered softly, his free hand flat between her shoulder blades.
The garbled sob that came out of her mouth was almost a laugh. It was him. The soft button up shirt that her hands were clinging onto for dear life was his. It took her a second to calm herself down enough to respond. "You're really tall," she pointed out quietly. Her voice was quivering anyway.
"I'm going to put you down, sweetheart," he said gently. "We have to go get your luggage. I promise there will be plenty of time later, hm?"
She nodded but it still took a few seconds to convince her legs to unhook from around him, to willingly let him help her lower herself to the ground.
He looked down at her and smiled, framing her face between his large, warm palms and brushing her tears away with his thumbs. "I've been waiting a very long time to do that," he said softly. "You are so pretty, sweetheart. How tall are you?"
"Five foot two," she mumbled, already relaxing into his touch.
"So sweet," he murmured. He actually had to bend down to kiss her and he did it slowly, almost like he was just waiting for her to pull away. She didn't, of course. She stayed perfectly still and let her eyes close as he moved closer and closer.
She was right. His lips were soft and warm and she couldn't stop the relieved way that she sighed against them. His kiss tasted like peppermint.
She knew that her doubts were usually pretty far from reality but having it confirmed was always a relief.
"Come on," he said slowly when he pulled away from her. "We just need to get your suitcase and then we can get out of here."
He stooped down and grabbed the purse that she hadn't realized she tossed to the floor. He handed it back to her and then he took her hand, leading her through the crowd of people.
Christine was glad that he seemed to know where he was going because all she could do was stare up at him while he led her through the airport. She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted him to keep talking to her. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and let her bury her face against his chest - she would have to. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder. He was at least a foot taller than her.
"How was your flight?" he asked as he pulled her aside by the little rotating belt that suitcases were coming out on.
She stared at it, waiting to see hers. "I learned that I'm scared of heights."
"Well that's no good," he said, running his thumb over the back of her hand. "We'll get you over that. I promise."
She leaned against his arm, squeezing his hand. It was hard to believe that she was actually here, actually touching him and now that she had a hold of his hand she was pretty sure she never wanted to let go.
"Right there," he said, slipping his hand out of hers and sliding her suitcase off of the belt. "Just the one suitcase, right?"
"Yeah Da- Erik," she said, catching herself as she remembered how many people were around them. She felt her cheeks flush.
He gave her a smile that he tried to hide and offered his hand to her again. "Then let's go."
She let him lead her out and through the doors, past the group of people puffing on cigarettes to the side and across the street into the parking structure. "I think I remember where I parked," he joked, looking back at her and squeezing her hand gently.
She wasn't really sure what to say so she didn't say anything at all. His hand was large and warm and real and she wasn't sure why she still felt so nervous. His smile faltered but he didn't say anything.
The car that he took her to was sleek and black. She was pretty sure it was expensive - it was one of those cars that she didn't see very often, shiny and pretty and well cared for. Christine wasn't a car person and she wouldn't have been able to name it. She didn't even have a license. She could hardly remember the last time she had ridden in a car. He went around to the trunk with her suitcase and she stood there awkwardly, playing with a loose string on the cuff of her sweatshirt.
"I brought something for you," he said conversationally, closing the trunk and holding one hand behind his back. He made his way back to her and pulled a stuffed dog from behind his back. "I thought about flowers but I wanted you to be able to take it home with you. If it goes badly you can even take it home and burn it."
She huffed out a laugh and he gave her a small smile.
His hand covered hers and he pulled it away from her sleeve, slipping the stuffie between them. "Play with this, princess. If you pull on that string any harder you're going to rip the seam."
"It's really soft," she mumbled, running her fingers over the brown fur while she stared at it.
He stroked her hair once and pressed his lips to her forehead slowly. "It's okay if you need a minute," he said softly. "You're the only thing on my agenda. We have all night."
She let herself lean forward. She let her forehead press against his chest. He only had one arm wrapped around her, draped loosely around her shoulders. Part of her wanted him to squeeze her tight against himself; the other part was grateful that he was actually being gentle with her. She stayed there for a while, breathing in the scent of his cologne. Eventually she pulled back just the slightest bit, looked to the side to make sure they were alone and whispered, "Daddy?"
"What, sweetheart?" he answered softly.
"Can I kiss you please?"
This kiss was different than the first one he gave her. It was firmer, just a bit more demanding. One of her hands pulled the stuffie close against her chest but the other one ran hesitantly up his chest and eventually she wrapped her arm over his shoulder, pulling herself closer to him. His hands wrapped around her waist; they were large and warm and comforting and she didn't really mind it at all when her back gently met the cool door of the car.
He was the one that pulled away. He broke the kiss and then he gave her one more quick, short peck on the lips. It was warm. Everything about it made her feel warm.
"I'd like to take you home," he murmured.
It wasn't really a question or a request. She recognized the gentle command in his voice and it sent the butterflies in her stomach fluttering all over again. She nodded slowly and when he pulled gently on her hips she followed him, stepping away from the door of the car so that he could reach around her and open it.
Christine hadn't been in a car in a long time. A bus was her main form of transportation; Meg didn't own a car either. Her mom did but she needed to. She worked a lot. The point was, Christine didn't get into cars very often and when he reminded her to put on her seat belt it was embarrassing for some reason.
She wondered if he honestly had any idea just how poor she was. She wondered if it would change his opinion of her a little bit if he did. It made her nervous; she wasn't sure she even wanted to see his home. She already knew that they were from completely different walks of life; he was substantially older, successful, charming in his own ways. And she? She just… was. Struggling to survive and hoping she could manage to pass some classes and not be completely drowning in debt by the time she managed to graduate. She almost hadn't even taken the time off because she couldn't afford to miss a paycheck.
She pulled the stuffie close to her and absently played with its soft ear while she stared out of the window, first at the neighborhoods they passed and then at the skyscrapers. She wondered if maybe she should have just let it remain online; she was so nervous that she thought she might be suffocating a little bit.
His fingertips brushed against her knuckles and she looked over at him.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently.
She nodded and let him hold her hand. "I'm okay," she said softly, looking at their hands and smiling just a little bit. It was real. He was solid and warm and something about her hand in his grounded her just a little bit.
"You're fidgeting like crazy," he pointed out, running his thumb over her knuckles.
"'M nervous," she mumbled her confession, looking back out of the window.
He hummed. It was that same hum that he had always used and it relaxed her a little bit. "I know you are, sweetheart. I promise we'll take it easy tonight. We can just go home and you can put your pajamas on, we can just watch a movie or something. Would you like that?"
She nodded and let her head rest against the seat, tilting it so that she could look at him. She hadn't honestly believed that she would ever be here, with him, and she was determined to savor it. She wanted to touch him and look at him and remind herself that he was real, this was real, that he wasn't just some intricate and well-planned catfish like she had honestly started to believe he was in the beginning.
"I'm very happy that you're here," he murmured, squeezing her hand gently. "I want you to think about a movie or two that you might want to watch. What do you want for dinner?"
"I don't know," she answered, too busy staring at him to really think about it. If she was completely honest she was just a little bit nauseous and food didn't really sound overly appealing at the moment.
"Something small," he said. "I'll make popcorn anyway, at least. Maybe we can just do sandwiches or something. Does that sound okay?"
It was such a mundane conversation in the middle of what Christine felt like was her life turning upside down that she huffed out a halfway hysterical laugh. "Yeah, that sounds fine."
He didn't say anything. He just kept running his thumb slowly and soothingly over her knuckles as he drove through the thick traffic. She might've been nervous that he only had one hand on the wheel if traffic wasn't moving so slowly. It was one of the reasons she didn't mind not having a car that much either. They could've almost walked faster once they actually made it into the city.
Christine hadn't been in a car in a long time, and she definitely hadn't been in a parking garage in forever. She had forgotten how dark and creepy they were and she actually stayed in the car and waited for him to come and open her door to get out. He let her hold his hand tightly and didn't complain.
"We're going all the way up," he said conversationally to her. "The elevators are pretty quick, thankfully. Did your ears pop on the plane?"
"Yeah, a little bit," she said, leaning against his arm.
He nodded and paused, shifting her suitcase in his hand. "Don't be surprised if it happens on the elevator too. You live in an apartment, don't you? What floor are you on?"
"I'm on the second floor. There's only four. I use the stairs." There was an elevator but it was always out of order. Christine was paranoid that she would get stuck if she tried using it on one of those days that it was working. It happened to her neighbor once and the building had to call the fire department. She thought that maybe it was okay to leave that out.
"I don't think I've ever taken the stairs," he said. "But I'm all the way up on the fifty-third floor so I think it's probably excusable."
"That's a lot of stairs," she mumbled, trying to wrap her brain around what fifty-third floor even looked like. She had seen the building when they were pulling into the parking structure but she hadn't really thought about how tall it actually was.
"I told you, all the way to the top," he said cheerfully, leading her through the lobby.
It wasn't as crowded as she expected a building with at least fifty-three floors to be. They got a few odd looks and it took Christine a minute to realize that people were looking at him and not her. She thought that they probably had been at the airport too but she was too busy looking at him to really notice. He didn't seem to care - or he didn't seem to notice. He didn't acknowledge the looks at all and when they came to the elevators he pushed her in front of him just a little bit and leaned around her to press the call button.
Three people got on with them and Erik was silent. He only let go of her to press the button for his floor. He kept one hand on her and one hand on her suitcase the entire time. He almost seemed uncomfortable but each time someone got off his grip on her loosened just the slightest bit.
When they finally reached his floor he seemed to relax. "It's an odd layout," he said when they stepped out of the elevator and the doors closed behind them. There were only four doors in the long hallway and he led her to the right. "The elevator doesn't go all the way to the top of the building. Technically I'm on the fifty-third and the fifty-fourth floor."
"It's like a house," she said, waiting patiently while he looked for his key in his pocket. The hallway was pretty ordinary and she wondered if it would be too much to ask if she could sleep there instead.
"Yeah," he said slowly. "I suppose it is. Just a very tall house with windows on two sides and less lawn care. There." He pulled his keys from his pocket and turned them in the lock. He pushed the door open and motioned her toward him. "Come on, sweetheart," he said, his hand between her shoulder blades as he coaxed her in ahead of him. "Welcome to my home."
It wasn't quite as overwhelming as Christine expected. It was nice, nicer than anywhere she ever expected to live, but it wasn't quite the marble-and-gold that she had imagined in her head. Instead it was a lot of glass; floor to ceiling windows directly across from her. She could see a black leather couch facing a flat-screen television, a baby grand piano tucked behind it. The room was open, large and she could see the spiral staircase in the back corner of it. "What's up there?" she asked.
"Bedrooms," he answered. "Come on. I'll take you up there first, let you get settled in a little bit."
He went up ahead of her, carrying her suitcase for her. "You have an en-suite," he said. "Both of the bedrooms do. There's a bathroom downstairs too. I'll show you where when you come back down."
"... I have a bedroom?" she asked quietly. She wasn't sure why it disappointed her. She wasn't really sure why she hadn't expected it. She wasn't really sure what she expected.
"I told you that we will take things slowly," he said softly, glancing back at her. "And it is your bedroom, princess. No one else will stay there. I will not bother it. You don't have to sleep there but eventually you'll be glad to have a space of your own."
She wasn't really sure about that but she didn't argue with him; she had absolutely no idea what she was doing and she thought that he was probably right. She wondered if the fact that she already wanted to curl up in his bed with him was too forward.
Christine hadn't ever really been in a situation like this before. She had never even considered long distance relationships; the only real relationship she had ever had was with Raoul. Everyone had been really surprised when she ended it; she was too. It was still something she struggled with a little bit. He was a genuinely good guy and sometimes she wondered if it was just a grass is greener situation.
The point was, it was a little weird. Because Erik had seen her, he had coaxed her through her orgasms and traced her body with his eyes through the webcam and this was the first time they had ever even touched fingertips. She wasn't really sure what was proper and what wasn't in a situation like this.
"You're fidgeting again."
She hadn't even realized it but once he pointed it out she couldn't help but notice the way that she was twisting the stuffed animal's soft ear around her finger. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just… really nervous."
"You don't have to be sorry, princess," he said, flipping the lights on. "I understand. It's all new to you and I know that. But you don't have to be nervous. I won't even touch you if you don't want me to."
Christine continued to twist the stuffie's ear between her fingers while she looked around the room. It was nice. There were two doors on one wall and she thought it must be the bathroom and a closet. There was a large window right in the center of the wall and the bed was at least twice as big as hers at home. It looked soft. The whole room made her think of an upscale hotel; white and fluffy and sterile. There was nothing personal at all. No art on the walls, no color, even the poofy bedspread was white and the lamp on the bedside table was plain as could be.
"The bathroom is going to be the far door," he said, pointing at it anyway. "It should be stocked up on necessities but if it isn't then let me know. The other one is the walk-in. There should be hangers. Feel free to use it. If you want to. I'll be downstairs. Take whatever time you need."
When she was alone in the room she was almost even more nervous. She stood there for a long minute, looking around and trying to take it in. It was a pretty big bedroom for an apartment - at least twice the size of hers at home. Eventually she moved. She set the stuffie by the pillows on the bed and pulled her suitcase up. She unzipped it and flipped the top open.
When she felt the temptation to hang her clothing she didn't think about it too hard. Something about it just felt a little more homely. She was still kind of living out of boxes at home. When her dad died she had been forced to move pretty suddenly; some of the boxes she refused to open. There was too much of him in them and she wasn't sure she was ready to look through them yet.
She absently wondered if Erik had an iron as she unpacked. A few of her shirts were wrinkled pretty badly. She would try to remember to ask him.
It was pretty pitiful to look at when she did get it all hung. It didn't even fill a fraction of the big, empty closet. Something about it still made her feel a little relieved. It felt permanent. It wasn't, of course. In a few days she would have to pull it all out and shove it back into the suitcase. But for now it felt just the slightest bit more like home.
The bathroom was her next venture. What she really wanted was a shower but she wasn't sure she honestly had the energy for it. The bathroom was actually… cute. Like the bedroom it was pretty devoid of personal touch but the sunken sink was a pretty powder-pink color that matched the tile in the shower. The shower curtain was plain and the soap dispenser was a bland white. It only took a minute of digging around to find a bar of soap. She washed her face in cool water and felt at least a little more human.
It wasn't until she went back to her suitcase that she realized she finally knew what was missing. She had been so worried about carefully selecting her outfits - choosing things that actually looked decent and weren't going threadbare - that she had completely forgotten to pack pajamas at all.
You should make a list or you'll forget something, princess. I travel fairly often and I still forget things.
Well. He never seemed to mind being right too much.
She took the time to put the tied plastic grocery bag filled with her shower stuff and toothbrush on the bathroom counter before she made her way out and back down the spiral staircase.
He was sitting on the leather couch but he stood up as she made her way down the stairs. She stood at the bottom stupidly. She wasn't really sure where to go from there. So she stood there, she twisted the hem of her shirt between her thumb and her forefinger and eventually she said, "I forgot pajamas."
He smiled just the slightest bit. "I'm sure I can find something that at least mostly fits you for tonight."
"I should've made a list," she mumbled. She couldn't keep a straight face and eventually she broke with a weak smile.
He laughed. She wasn't sure she would ever get enough of it. "Back up, sweetheart. We'll find something comfortable for you."
She felt much more relaxed in his bedroom. It was far less sterile. The furniture was dark and so was the hardwood floor. The rug under the bed was a deep red and his comforter was black. There was pocket change on top of his dresser and a sock poked out from the lip of one of the drawers, keeping it from closing completely. A set of slippers were at the edge of the rug, one on top of the other.
It wasn't quite the disarray that she lived with but it was lived in. It wasn't perfect and immaculate and she thought maybe that's why the other bedroom unsettled her so much. It reminded her of the hospital just like the bus reminded her of waiting rooms.
"There," he said, pulling a black shirt out of a drawer and setting it on top of the dresser next to the handful of change. "I think sweatpants. We'll definitely have to roll them. I'm afraid I don't have many color options."
"It's okay, Daddy," she answered, surprised at how easily the title came even when she was right in front of him. "I'm not very picky."
He didn't say anything but he smiled. It was genuine and warm and she decided right then that she wanted to see it again. He handed her the plain back shirt and a pair of black sweatpants.
"You can change in there if you'd like," he said, gesturing toward his own bathroom. "Or you can go back to your own room. Whatever you're comfortable with."
She took his invitation. As weird as it might have sounded, she wanted to see his bathroom. She wanted to intrude on every bit of him that she could.
It wasn't anything exciting. The layout matched the one in her room almost exactly. The tile and sink were a creme color and the wood on the cabinet was dark. The light fixtures were the same, the mirror, everything else was nearly a carbon copy and when she dared to peek into the cabinet all she found was cleaning supplies and toothpaste in the drawer.
His sweatpants were almost comically long on her but aside from that, they fit fine. The shirt he gave her was soft and warm and just a little bit big on her. When she came back out, he chuckled.
"Sit here, sweetheart," he said, patting the edge of his bed.
So she did. And she didn't feel uncomfortable about it in the slightest. Not even when he got down on his knees in front of her and took her heel in his hand.
"There," he said, letting go of her heel after he rolled the cuff of the sweatpants up and moving onto her other leg. "It's better if you can walk. Have you come up with a movie yet?"
"Not really," she said, watching him work.
He hummed that familiar thoughtful hum. "I have cable too," he said, putting her other heel down and looking up at her. "I'm sure we'll find something. Are you hungry yet?"
"Not really," she repeated, feeling herself blush. "I'm sorry. I'm just… taking it in, I think. I'm… really happy I'm here."
"I'm really happy that you're here too, princess," he said, tugging gently at the cuff of the sweatpants on her right leg to even it out.
He gave her a small tour of the penthouse.
He showed her the office up on the second floor that she had seen through the webcam so many times before. She got to see the sleek black laptop that he used for it. He showed her the kitchen and even went through what was where, joking that if they went out to get her some pajamas he would have to pick up a step-stool too.
By the time he finished with that she was hungry enough to at least try to eat. So he made her a turkey sandwich and got her a glass of water and complained the whole time that it wasn't enough for a dinner.
It was for her, though. She didn't want to talk about the fact that it was more than she ate for dinner most nights. She didn't want him to know that the only time she ever really ate a real dinner was when he ordered food for her.
So she didn't. She just said that she wasn't that hungry and she promised that she'd eat popcorn too and make up for it with breakfast.
He was satisfied enough with her answer, or he seemed to be, because he let it go.
And when they awkwardly sat together on the couch, a foot apart from each other, she made sure that she made good on her promise and stole a big handful of popcorn.
He turned the tv on and handed her the remote, leaning back against his arm of the couch.
She stared at it uncomfortably. "I don't know what I want to watch," she mumbled. She didn't care in all honesty. She just wanted to lean into him and feel his arms around her, press her face against his chest and breathe in his cologne. She had hoped that he would just pick something.
"You'll find something, princess," he said with a shrug. "I don't care much… I'm not very picky."
That last bit was said with a teasing smile and Christine sighed, opening the channel listing and scrolling through. Eventually she settled on a sitcom, settling back into the leather couch and eating the popcorn one piece at a time.
It was on the second silent episode that she glanced over at him and realized he was looking at her. He didn't look away like she expected him to and she shifted where she sat, keeping eye contact.
"Daddy?" she asked quietly.
"What, sweetheart?"
She sighed, glanced at the television and the show she wasn't interested in, and then looked back at him. "... am I allowed to snuggle you?" she asked nervously.
He only smiled. "Of course you are, princess."
She shifted slowly and he moved with her, his arm stretching along the back of the couch until she settled in against his side. Slowly he let his arm move from the back of the couch and wrap around her.
"If I ever make you uncomfortable, you are allowed to tell me to stop," he said softly. "I want to make sure that you understand that."
She nodded, turning her face in against his collarbone. "I understand," she mumbled.
"Good," he murmured, pressing his lips into her hair.
She wasn't sure how long they sat like that. She wasn't even really aware of their shift in position until he had her back against his chest, with his legs on either side of her.
Christine was relaxed, halfway sleepy. Her eyes slid closed as his fingers traced along her jaw, down her throat and slowly back up. She could feel his eyes on her and she blinked, tilting her head so that she could look up at him.
He held her eyes and each pass of his fingers was more brazen. They slowly dipped lower, tracing over her collarbone and back up, lower still, dipping over her cleavage. When he finally cupped her breast in his palm she shivered, leaning into him just a little heavier.
"Do you want me to stop?" he murmured.
She shook her head and he hummed in acknowledgement.
This time, when the tips of his fingers trailed slowly lower, they didn't bother to trace their path back up.
He found the hem of her shirt and his fingers dipped under it, tracing along her skin just at the waistband of his sweatpants.
He did that for a while, back-and-forth. It was a touch that was hardly a touch - gentle and slow and rhythmic. His finger traced a path from her left hip to her right, skimming over her skin until she thought she might go crazy.
"Daddy," she whispered.
With that, his finger pressed just under the edge of the waistband.
She felt absolutely electric. She swore she could feel her own pulse in the pad of his finger as it teased the elastic band of her underwear.
"Can I touch you, princess?"
She hardly heard his soft question but she nodded anyway with a breathless "Please."
He wasted no time. His warm hand found its way under the elastic band and his palm pressed against the teasing of hair there. Only one finger pressed its way between the lips of her sex and it almost purposefully missed the place where she wanted it most, running teasingly and lightly over her.
"You are so sweet," he murmured as she arched her back, hoping to trick his finger into finding that electric spot.
He hesitated, almost like he wasn't quite sure of his next move, and then slowly his finger moved. Christine let her head fall limply back against his chest as it slid inside of her. It wasn't what she craved but it felt good as he curved it upward. If only he wasn't moving so slowly.
She wasn't sure how to ask for what she wanted so she didn't - she enjoyed what he gave her and matched her own breath to the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Eventually, like he had grown impatient waiting for her to ask, his thumb found her clit and circled it once, slowly, so torturously slowly.
She bit her lip to keep herself from gasping and pressed her hips toward his thumb but he seemed determined - his touch remained just the same, light and slow.
"If you tell me what you want, I will tell you how to get it," he said softly.
She could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest and she shifted her hips again. "Another finger, Daddy, please," she whispered shyly, trying to ignore the way her cheeks burned.
"Another finger," he murmured, trailing one along the embarrassingly slick lip of her sex. "I will give you whatever you want, princess. But I want to hear you. No biting your lip."
She nodded her head and when his second finger slid inside of her she let the relieved sigh escape her, turning her temple in against his chest.
Christine had watched his hands through the webcam many times. She had closed her eyes and imagined what they might feel like on her body, large and warm and gentle.
When his free hand found her throat, she wasn't too worried about it. It rested there, still, the pads of his fingers pressed against her pulse like he was measuring it while his fingers moved deeply, rhythmically inside of her.
"If you need it to stop I want you to tap me," he said, his breath against her forehead. "The couch - whatever you can reach."
He didn't give her much time to contemplate what he was talking about. His thumb began to move quickly against her clit, the dig of his fingers sped up. She arched her back and just as she started to cry out his hand closed lightly but firmly around her throat.
She forced out a weak, breathless sound and she felt the rumble of his chest under her head as he hummed calmly.
"There you go," he murmured soothingly as her hips rolled against his fingers. His hand tightened just a little bit more around her throat. "I wondered what it would feel like to be the hand between your thighs," he mumbled. "It's better than I imagined in my head, I think. You are so pretty, princess. Look at you. So warm and wet and red and desperate for more."
Her trembling fingers reached up, tapping against the back of his hand and just as suddenly as the pressure was there it was gone. She gasped for air and his forefinger traced gently over the column of her throat.
"Good girl," he said softly. "That's a good girl - breathe, sweetheart. It's okay."
"Daddy," she gasped between breaths. "Please."
"Please," he repeated warmly. "Please - are you going to cum already, sweetheart? You did like that, didn't you?"
She was rolling against him, fucking herself on his fingers desperately and she didn't feel even a little embarrassed when she nodded against his chest. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes, please."
"I want to hear you, princess," he repeated, the words firm with just the slightest bit of an edge. "As long as you let me hear you, yes. You can cum."
And so, when she felt the edge approaching, she threw herself over it completely. Her hands reached back and tangled in his shirt as she tried to use him as leverage to push herself against his fingers, she gasped, she shuddered and her eyes slid closed of their own volition.
She collapsed back against his chest and he pressed his lips to her temple gently, his fingers slowing, their drag slow and kind as she felt the last few desperate pulses of her muscles.
She lay there silently for a long moment, both hands holding his forearm tightly as she tried to catch her breath. It wasn't until she shifted that she noticed the firm pressure of his erection against her thigh. She paused for a moment, shifted again and he caught her wrist.
"There is so much time for that later," he murmured. "I just want to hold you right now, sweetheart. Can I hold you?"
She shifted around slowly, moving until she was laying against him on her stomach. She nuzzled her cheek against his broad chest and he sighed, wrapping one arm around her and smoothing her hair with his palm.
"Have I told you that I'm happy you're here?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "Because I am. I wasn't sure that you'd even come."
Her eyelids were heavy and she let them close. She was exhausted, physically and mentally, and his gentle touch and the steady rise and fall of his chest were soothing. She hadn't been held in months and she didn't realize how much she actually missed it. "Of course I'd come," she mumbled. "I'm happy I'm here too, Daddy."
She drifted off to sleep right there, pressed against him and listening to the droning of the television in the background with one ear and the steady thump of his heart with the other.
Christine wasn't sure how long she slept but she was pretty sure it was too long because when she shifted she could feel the imprint of the wrinkles of his shirt on her cheek and she was way too warm.
"Don't get up, sweetheart," he said, shifting and clicking the television off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. You were sleeping pretty hard."
She knew he was telling the truth because everything felt muddy and slow when rubbed at her eyes. "What time is it?" she mumbled, the words halfway slurred.
"Way past your bedtime," he answered unhelpfully. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."
She wanted to argue with him but she couldn't find the words to. She just sat up when he prodded her to and rubbed at her bleary eyes again.
He untangled himself from her and stood next to the couch. It was dark and Christine couldn't hardly see anything. When he touched her hand she jumped. "It's still just me," he chuckled, guiding her arm over his shoulder. "You have to help me, just a little bit, princess."
She sighed and threw her other arm over his shoulder, bunching the fabric of his shirt in her clumsy fingers. When he pulled her forward on the couch and lifted her her legs wrapped around his waist practically naturally. "Daddy?" she mumbled.
"Hm?"
"... I dunno," she sighed, letting her head lull against his shoulder.
"I think you're still asleep," he said softly.
"Mhm."
He chuckled and kissed her temple.
She didn't really come to again until she felt the edge of a mattress. He was shifting and then he hummed, untangling her arms from around him and slipping the soft stuffie she had been clinging to for dear life into her arms again.
He paused for a minute and then she felt his lips against hers - the kiss was so quick that she barely registered it before he pulled away. When he lifted the sheets she slipped under them. "There you go, sweetheart," he said, kissing her forehead and smoothing her hair one more time. "You know where my bedroom is. The door will be open if you need anything, okay? I'll leave the light on in the hallway if you'd like."
"Yes please," she mumbled.
"Yes please," he repeated warmly. "Such a good girl. Goodnight, princess."
"G'night," she mumbled, leaning back against the too-plush pillows. He pulled the covers up to her throat, pressed one more kiss to her forehead and then he was gone.
Christine thought she would have no problem falling back asleep. By all accounts, she shouldn't have. She was absolutely exhausted. The travel, the stress, Erik. She should fall right back asleep.
She tossed and turned for a while. The bed was too soft. So were the pillows. When she creaked one eye open she saw long shadows being cast by the light left on in the hallway.
The walls were bare, the bed was too big, and she felt suddenly lonelier than she had in a long time.
She tried. She closed her eyes and laid in one spot for too long. She counted from one to one-hundred in her head. She tossed and turned for an incredibly long amount of time. Eventually she gave up and stared up at the blank ceiling in frustration.
If you need anything.
She sighed. She was absolutely positive he was asleep by that point.
By the time that she decided it was stupid to keep laying there she was on the verge of frustrated tears.
She stood in the hallway for a long time trying to decide what to do. The hardwood was cold on her bare feet and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She wondered if she would eventually fall back asleep if she went downstairs and turned the television on. That was the original plan. But her eyes were drawn to his cracked-open bedroom door.
It wasn't the television that relaxed her so much. She knew that. It was Erik.
Her feet carried her there. She pushed the door open just a little bit more and heard the rustle of sheets.
"Daddy?" she whispered. If he didn't answer it would make her decision for her. She would go downstairs. She would turn the television back on and find some reruns and hope the sound would be enough to put her to sleep.
"Hmm?" he asked, his voice gruff and gravelly. "Is something wrong?"
He had been asleep. She could tell from his voice alone. She chewed on her lip, shifting from foot to foot.
She heard more shifting and he sighed. "Christine. What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"... I couldn't sleep," she answered quietly.
"You can come in, princess," he said gruffly. "I told you that you don't have to sleep there if you don't want to."
She moved slowly, pushing the door mostly closed behind her. It was dark in his room and she stood uncomfortably by the door. "I didn't mean to wake you up, Daddy," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he answered, shifting on the bed. "I was barely asleep anyway. Come lay with me, sweetheart."
She knew it was a lie. His voice was too gruff for him to have just fallen asleep. But she appreciated the effort and she climbed into bed with him, sliding under the sheets that he held open for her.
His arm wrapped around her and he hummed, pulling her closer. "Is that okay?" he mumbled. She nodded and he sighed. "Good. It is for me too. I like having you here, princess."
She shifted and realized that he had definitely been lying. He hadn't just fallen asleep. He was too warm, his voice was too gruff, and she felt the same exact hardness against her leg as she had on the couch.
She shifted one more time, pushing against it purposefully just so that she could be sure that it was what she said before she whispered "Daddy?"
"Hm?" he hummed.
"I'm sorry I woke you up," she whispered.
"I already told you it's okay, princess."
She reached out and ran her hand over his solid, warm chest. "Daddy?" she mumbled. "Can I please apologize for waking you up?"
"You already…" he paused for a moment and leaned back, using the tip of his finger to tilt her chin up. "What do you want, princess?"
She bit her lip and ran her hand down his chest, lower, pausing just at the waistband of his pants this time. "Can I please apologize for waking you up, Daddy?" she asked again, softly.
He hummed and she could feel his eyes on her, looking at her closely. "What do you normally use to apologize, princess?" he asked, a slight edge in his voice.
Her brow furrowed and she pulled at the edge of his shirt as she thought. "... words?" she asked eventually.
"Close," he said warmly, his thumb pulling at her bottom lip until she released it from between her teeth. "What do you normally use to apologize?"
His thumb ran meaningfully over her lip again and she shivered. "My mouth, Daddy," she answered eventually.
"Mhm," he replied. "If you use your mouth, I will let you apologize."
She nodded slowly and she felt him leaning forward, closer, closer.
"Good girl," he murmured, kissing her lips deeply before he leaned back against the pillows.
Christine had never honestly felt nervous about a blowjob before. The only guy she had ever been with was Raoul and he was… gentle. The edge in Erik's eyes as he stared down at her made her nervous. They were intense and focused and way too serious for someone that had just woken up.
She moved slowly, cautiously, and Erik reached down himself to move the sheets out of the way. She pulled his sweatpants down, reached into his briefs and once he was free… she felt stupid. For a long moment she just stared at its shape in the dark, glancing up to find him staring at her.
She licked her lips nervously and then she leaned down, licking slowly from just under the head of his cock to the tip.
"Good girl," he hummed, his voice just slightly more gruff.
She quickly took him into her mouth, running her tongue along the underside of his cock, sinking just a bit deeper than was comfortable.
"Fuck." She heard him breathe. The fingers of one hand tangled in her hair, resting against the back of her head like he had to steady himself.
She bobbed her head comfortably, slowly, and she felt it distinctly when his hand pushed her head down.
She gagged and almost immediately the pressure lessened. Her hands found purchase on his thighs and just when she found a pace that made the muscles under her hands tense the hand tangled in her hair used it to pull her off of him.
"Princess, look at me." He was slightly breathless and she met his hungry eyes. "I want you to touch yourself for me," he instructed slowly. "Just like you did on camera."
She gave half a nod and started to move back down but he tugged her hair.
"You don't have to ask permission," he said. "You're allowed to cum but not before I do."
She wouldn't be able to pin it down. She wouldn't know what exactly it was - whether it was the demand in his voice or the look in his eyes - but she had to press her thighs together to attempt to relieve some of the pressure while she nodded at him.
"Good," he said.
He was pushing her head back down and she parted her lips, taking him into her mouth and trying to find the pace he had interrupted.
"Your own hand," his gruff voice instructed.
Her hand automatically went to work, sliding under the layers that his had slipped under hours before. She circled her own clit and gave a choked moan. She heard his breath catch at that.
Christine went to work twice as hard. The sounds from his mouth made it difficult to concentrate on herself and he either seemed to not notice or not care that she kept forgetting his instruction.
Raoul always gave her a warning. Erik… did not.
A second hand joined his first on the back of her head and he rolled his hips upward. She choked, only a little, and closed her lips around him to attempt to avoid a mess as he pulsed warm in her mouth.
His grip on her loosened slowly and she took the opportunity to pull back and swallow, looking up at him.
His eyes were softer, warmer, and his hands hooked under her arms, tugging her up on the bed. "Come here, sweetheart," he murmured breathlessly. She wasn't really sure why - he definitely didn't wait for her to obey.
He settled her on the pillows beside him, he leaned over her and his mouth was on hers. He kissed her in the way that she had craved, leaning almost completely overtop of her. His hand swatted hers away and his finger found her clit quickly.
He wasn't quite as gentle. It was rough and hard and she moaned against his lip, her nails clawing at his shirt to try to pull him closer.
When she came, it wasn't quite as intense as the first time. Erik faltered, pressing his forehead against hers while they both attempted to catch their breath.
"Fuck," he breathed eventually, breaking the silence. "I forgive you, princess. For waking me up. Are you okay?"
She nodded and he sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to one cheek, the other cheek, and then her lips before he rolled off of her, laying back against his pillow again.
"Come here, princess," he said, pulling the tangled sheets up and holding his arm open to her.
She settled in against his chest and he pulled the blankets up around them, tucking her head under his chin.
His hand was warm and gently, running soothingly over her back.
"Daddy?" she mumbled.
"Hm?"
"I'm really happy that I'm right here."
His palm squeezed squeezed her waist gently and he pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, princess."