Chapter 69

"Shot?"

"Aye."

"What's the inspector saying about it?"

"Sweet fuck all," Moss answered, "Says the republicans are famously factional, that he was killed by one of his own."

"You don't reckon so?"

"I reckon it's something to do with that bloody woman."

"The spy?"

"Nearly spit up when I called her a spy – she's an operative," Moss replied, rolling his eyes.

Tommy raised an eyebrow and inhaled, not answering. It was easy, when Moss was in this kind of mood, to let him run on. Interrupting him only stopped him.

"Fucking operative," Moss continued, "Anyway, we go see about the body, do our fucking jobs, y'know? And we get a report that a young woman was seen leaving the area. Tell him about that and that's when he says they're factional and writes it off. But does he trust me to confirm that the woman in the area is a connection to his fucking spy – no!"

There was an irony to Moss' heartfelt annoyance in the Inspector's lack of trust as he stood, spouting away to Tommy in his irate state, telling him everything he needed to know. But still, an insulted man was one with a loose tongue and if the Chief Inspector didn't have the brains to realise that, then that was his problem and not Tommy's.

It all fit together though. Neatly. Almost too fucking neatly.

He let Moss go on, telling him about the arrests made that week, about how many their targets were for, about how many needed stood up – and about how Freddie Thorne was still top of the fucking list, despite what Tommy had told the Inspector. He supposed he couldn't be too angry yet – it wasn't like he had managed to deliver on his fucking promise, had he? Fucking Ada. Thankfully, Moss didn't bring up Freddie's marriage. Whether because he didn't know about it – because the chief inspector hadn't trusted him with the information – or because he could guess at how Tommy would react to it being brought up, he wasn't sure.

"Your Inspector a racing man?" Tommy asked, when Moss had finally stopped talking.

The question he was asking was whether or not Campbell would be likely be attending Cheltenham. He had told Campbell to tell the Chief Inspector of Gloucestershire to turn a blind eye when he made his move. He wondered if the chief inspector would want to come witness the move – or if he'd be happy to witness it through the barmaid. Truthfully, between the meeting with the Irish and Freddie's wedding, Tommy had been expecting to hear from the inspector. But it hadn't happened. He wanted to believe it was because the guns were a heavy enough bargaining chip – but it didn't do to relax. He had his family to think about. He had Rosie and Lily to think about.

"Dunno," Moss said with a shrug, "Not that he'd told me but-"

"But that doesn't mean much, given he's not told you anything," Tommy cut across him, raising an eyebrow.

Moss flushed in annoyance.

"Tell you what Moss – you said you needed four men sent over to be stood up for you to meet your targets, I'll send you six. Get you a gold star, eh? Use that favour to find out whether he's planning to go to Cheltenham, alright?"

Moss nodded.

"Alright, fuck off then," Tommy said, nodding his head in the direction of the main road.

Moss blinked, then turned and went. Probably annoyed at not being slipped an extra pound for his reporting, but there was a balance needed when you were paying someone for information. Couldn't let them relax and get too cocky, too expectant of something for nothing.

Tommy turned and went too – in the opposite direction, back to Watery Lane. He had come out to see Moss tonight partly because he needed to and partly to keep his head clear before he did what he was planning to do tonight. He needed to stay in control of himself. Needed to do what he'd planned and no more.

"Tommy!" Lily shouted and waved at him as he turned on to Watery Lane, giving him a sunny smile, the tears of earlier long forgotten.

He smiled indulgently at the child, going past the door to number six to go to her.

"What you two up to, eh?" he asked, crouching down and putting a hand on her waist.

She pointed at his niece, "Katie brought her doll out."

He nodded and glanced at Katie's feet, checking on the shoes – which were still there.

"It's getting a bit late, what time you meant to be in at?"

"It's the summer holidays Uncle Tommy!" Katie told him indignantly.

"Was that my question?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't have a time, I go in when I'm tired," Katie shrugged.

He thought briefly about telling her not to be cheeky, but he figured she was probably telling the truth and that her attitude to the situation wasn't exactly her own fault.

"What about you my little love?"

"Eight o'clock," Lily mumbled, seeming embarrassed that she did have a time to be in for in comparison to Katie's lofty statement.

He glanced at his watch, "Just as well I stopped then, it's five to – you can come in with me," he told her, standing up and pulling her up into his arms.

"Tommy! I've got five more minutes," she pleaded, her arms going around his neck even as she shook her head at him.

"You've got a bedtime is what you've got – and this gets me five minutes with you before it, eh?"

"I'm not going to bed at eight o'clock! I'm going in at eight o'clock!" Lily said, sounding vaguely outraged and a little too much like Katie for his comfort.

"Do you need to go over my knee?" he asked, raising an eyebrow sternly at her.

She gave him a wounded look in response and settled her head on his shoulder in defeat.

"And you," he turned to Katie, "You get on in. And from now on whatever rules Lily has apply to you – so if she's told to be in for eight, you're the same, got it?"

Katie wrinkled her nose and put her hands to her hips, "That's not fair!"

"It's fair as far as I'm concerned."

"I don't like it."

"You're seven, you don't have to like it."

"Jack and Alfie are still out."

"Tell you what then Katie girl – you go round them up and get them in too, tell them I said you'd all to get in and get to bed and if they give you any trouble you come get me, alright?"

"But Uncle Tommy it's the summer holidays!" Katie whined, repeating her earlier statement.

"Is it you that's needing to go over my knee then if it's not Lily?" he asked, "Summer holidays or not I'm not having any Shelby's running up and down with the dogs till all hours, got it? Get the twins in and get yourself in – and I'll ask your Dad about it in the morning and I'll come turn you up and redden you myself if I find out you didn't do as I've said, got it?"

She glowered but nodded and he turned and went to number six without saying anything else, feeling Lily lift a hand off his neck to wave at Katie as he carried her through the door.

Running with the dogs till all hours. That was one of his mother's phrases. There was something vaguely unsettling about the way being an adult in charge around children- whether you were technically their parent or not - made phrases you'd had thrown at you as a child come tumbling out of your mouth of their own accord. Any variant of the phrase 'Do you need a good spanking?' The 'I'll give you something to cry about' phrase he tried to avoid as much as possible but still used from time to time. 'I don't care about what 'insert name of other child' does I care about what you do' in response to pleas of everyone else being allowed to do something. And earlier today he'd told Lily don't make me come get you. One of these days he'd look in the mirror and his mother's face would be looking back at him. Well, as long as it wasn't his father's, he'd settle for it.

"Just about on time," Rosie shouted through from the kitchen, coming to stand in the doorway and adding, "Two for the price of one, then?"

"That's it," he said, crossing the space to kiss her forehead, enjoying the way her lids fluttered closed at his touch before he continued, "Though one of us was very unwilling to come in. Apparently those last five minutes were very important."

"Tommy said my bedtime is eight o'clock!" Lily told her sister indignantly, shifting in his arms to look between the two of them.

"It is," Rosie said, nodding.

"No!" Lily said, shaking her head, "I get ready for bed at eight o'clock – and then you take me out the back and I brush my teeth then I say goodnight to Tommy then you take me upstairs and tell me a story and sing me a song and then I wait to see if Finn is going to come in and talk to me and then it's bedtime!"

"Oh, is that how it goes?" Rosie asked, laughing and reaching up a hand to stroke Lily's hair.

The child nodded very seriously, "Yes. But sometimes I get ready earlier like if I've had a bath and then we sit in the front room together before you take me out the back."

"You used to sit with us all the time," Tommy reminded her, "Then you started finding Katie more interesting."

Lily shrugged, "I like being able to play outside when it's nice and bright. I'll stay in with you when it's dark and cold and rainy again."

"Oh thanks very much," he replied, grinning, "That makes me feel very special."

"You're welcome," she told him, smiling back at him and missing the sarcasm.

"Alright my little love," he said, kissing her cheek and sliding her down onto the floor, "You better get started with this long routine of yours so you can get to bed at a decent time, eh? It's the summer holidays as Katie was so keen to tell me, so I'm sure that means you'll be wanting to be out bright and early tomorrow morning?"

She scampered off in the direction of the stairs and he turned to the redhead, kissing her again – catching her lips with his this time.

"How was your meeting?" she asked when they broke apart.

"Informative," he said, lighting a cigarette and inhaling, "One of the Irish men that I met with has been shot."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. A young woman was seen at the scene, but the Chief Inspector has told Moss to leave it alone, not to investigate. Said they're factional."

"So you reckon it's Grace that shot him?"

He nodded, letting smoke blow through his nostrils, "Yup."

"And he's telling Moss to leave it…" she trailed off, raising an eyebrow at him.

She was too damn perceptive.

"Mainly so that she gets left alone."

"And so the Irish - who know he wasn't killed by one of their own - will be looking for someone to blame it on?"

He nodded.

"Chances are that'll be you after you tossed them out of The Garrison then, eh?"

"I didn't toss them out. The one who has been shot tossed himself and the other fella out with him – the one who was doing the bloody singing."

"Fuck's sake."

"We don't know that's where it'll go."

"Oh, don't we indeed?" she replied, rolling her eyes.

"I can handle it."

"Fucking men."

"Don't you start, you sound like Polly."

"Well at least one of us sounds sensible then."

"And here I thought we were going to have a pleasant evening," he replied, rolling his eyes and exhaling a long stream of smoke.

"We will – after Lily and Finn are in bed," she said, flushing slightly and nodding, desperately trying to keep her composure and annoyance in place, "But right now we're going to discuss your bloody sex and why you all fight like cockerels. Honest to god – you antagonise him by having the bloody meeting in the first place and now he's responding by as good as pinning the shooting of some IRA-adjacent man on you."

"IRA adjacent," he snorted, "Collections from pubs don't cover the costs of guns – he has an idea of being IRA, he's never been IRA in his life."

"Says Tommy and his usual parliament of one, eh?"

"I said don't you fucking start," he repeated, becoming more annoyed as she referenced his aunt, shaking his cigarette at her.

"You started it alright with your bloody meeting," she retorted, rolling her eyes, then, pausing and softening her tone, "Tommy – these guns. Your deal is for him to turn a blind eye to what goes on here and to let you do your business with Billy Kimber. You're in this power struggle and you've got all the cards, can't you just… Can you just not antagonise him? And could you give him some of the guns back? I'm not saying all!" she said hastily, seeing his face, "Not until your business in concluded. I get it. But a sweetener – something to show you'll make good on your offer. Ease the Freddie not being run out of town yet blow, eh?"

He flicked his cigarette and leant against the sideboard, turning over her words, then held out his free hand and murmured, "C'mere."

She came to him, settling in to the crook of his arm, her head on his shoulder.

"I picked a smart woman, eh?" he said, squeezing the pleasing curve of her waist.

"I thought I was a silly little girl?"

"You're both," he nodded, "I suppose that's why I love you. All that complexity, eh?"

She snorted derisively, but titled her chin up, looking for a kiss – which he obliged her with.

"So, what are you going to do?" she asked softly.

"The guns are buried, it'd be risky to move them. Especially to remove just one or two," he said, "And if I give him one or two he's got proof I have the rest and he could call in all his forces. I want it done quietly."

"So it would be a stupid move then?" she asked, sounding confused as to why he'd just called her smart.

"Nah. It's not. When it gets close to the end of this deal with Kimber I might just do it as you've said. Drip feed him what he wants."

"Tommy – this business with Kimber. Is it worth all this?"

He looked down at her. Yes. She was worth it. Getting the life he wanted for her and Lily was worth it. He just had to protect them whilst he did what he had to do to secure it.

"It'll be done soon, eh?" he told her, not answering her question.

She looked up at him with her huge amber eyes, then lowered them and nestled in against him, nodding. She was entirely full of complexities. Argued with him one minute. Then held her tongue and nodded in others. She always seemed to know when to let things go, seemed to know the length of his tether. And yet sometimes she didn't give a damn about whether he was about to break free of the tether and go wild. There seemed to be something in her that enjoyed obeying him. But she didn't let him off scot-free either. He'd never dealt with anyone like the equally wild and taciturn little wench in his life.

Lily came padding back into the kitchen in her nightdress and the two sisters set off out the back, Rosie taking her own toothbrush with her and telling Lily, "Oh I just fancy having fresh breath while I'm telling you a story," when the child asked why she was brushing her teeth at the same time when she wasn't going to bed.

He became conscious of his own mouth for a moment, then relaxed – figuring the cigarettes would kill the taste of anything else. And she kissed him often enough that she couldn't mind the tobacco taste of him. Still, perhaps he'd brush his own teeth when she was up putting Lily in bed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Finn – it's gone nine, get in here – now," Tommy ordered from the door of number six.

"But Tommy it's the summer holidays!" Finn protested, exchanging horrified looks with Isaiah and some of the other boys he was standing with.

He noted he didn't see George amongst them and hoped that meant John had had the sense to bring his eldest in. Martha had barely delivered George before she'd been pregnant again with Katie. Polly had gone beserk about it – boxing John's ears for him like a disobedient schoolkid when he'd brought the news that Martha was up the duff again. But the point was, that for all George ran about after Finn and Isaiah, he was still a good bit younger than them and he should be in his fucking bed more or less at the same time as Katie and Lily. Though Tommy didn't reckon John indulged the routine Rosie did, having only appeared back down from telling Lily her story about ten minutes prior.

"Why is everyone so bloody intent on telling me it's your bloody school holidays?" Tommy replied, "I know. I don't care. You'll still be in here by nine at night or I'll keep you in round the clock for a week, got it?"

Finn glowered, but didn't answer back and trudged into the house like a condemned man.

"Finn," Tommy said, shutting the door.

"Yeah?"

"Lily's bed time routine – apparently it includes waiting up after Rosie's left her for the night to see if you're going to come in and talk to her."

Finn's ears went red and he didn't answer. Tommy figured his younger brother didn't want it known that he ever went in to speak to the child – and Tommy had never brought up what Lily had told him about Finn going in to console her when she'd gotten herself in trouble.

"Will you do me a favour Finn?" Tommy asked, figuring it would help if he framed it as a favour to him.

Finn nodded apprehensively, clearly unsure of what he might be signing up for.

"Just got in and say goodnight to her every night, eh? She gets excited about having a big brother cause she never had one before. And if she's keeping herself awake she's as well keeping herself awake for something."

He figured that way she'd be going to sleep at some point, rather than waiting up endlessly on nights when Finn didn't go in to speak to her.

Looking somewhat relieved at what he'd been asked to do, Finn nodded and said, "Alright Tommy."

"Good boy," Tommy replied, ruffling Finn's hair before he could stop himself.

Finn's ears went red again and Tommy figured his brother probably thought himself too old to be called a good boy, so he added, "I'm right proud of you. Now get yourself ready for bed and into it, eh? Or I'll tell Maggie Murphy on you."

Finn grinned sheepishly and nodded, going out the back first, passing where Rosie was stood at the basin scrubbing her lasagne dish, before he disappeared up the stairs.

Tommy stood in the kitchen, taking his time smoking a cigarette and watching the way she attacked the dish, yanking it up to the light to frown at it and plunging it back into the water, her arm moving at speed, throwing her shoulder into the work.

He fancied since Finn had left that she had gone slightly more tense – and she didn't seem inclined to break the silence, though he had seen her glance over her shoulder at him – she knew he was standing there. He realised, for all she had been eager the night before, and for all she'd made her statement about wanting him – fully - and for all her self-doubt that seemed to be wrapped up in him not touching her, she was nervous. He finished the cigarette and stubbed it out, then cleared his throat and pulled the shop doors closed – the sound of them snapping shut bringing her shoulders even closer to her ears as it echoed around the room, silent other than the slop of the water and the scrubbing of the sponge on the metal.

He locked the doors and looked back over at her, to find her looking at him – but she dropped her own warm eyes as soon as his cold ones met them, turning back to her work, scrubbing even harder again, as if that was even possible.

He wondered, his own heart fluttering slightly, his own apparent nervousness surprising him, if she had changed her mind.

He crossed to stand behind her at the sink, his hands going to her shoulders, bringing her to a pause. Every inch of her was tense, he could see that straight away, could sense the difference in her breathing. He kissed her cheek and she turned slightly towards him, allowing him to get her lips with his next kiss – his hands working into her shoulders the entire time, bringing them slowly down from her ears back to where they were supposed to be situated, moving across them and onto the back of her neck once they were down, running his thumbs up into the groove at the base of her hairline. She was so still and silent as she let him explore her that he could hear the strands of her hair pushing together under his fingers.

Eventually, he ran his hands down her back and rested them on her waist, pressing himself against her, letting her become used to him being so close, kissing her again as he waited for her to adjust before he murmured in her ear, "I said we'd start tonight."

"Yes," she croaked, looking at him over her shoulder, her cheeks colouring pink as her voice betrayed the dryness of her throat, clearing it and nodding.

"You still want me to?"

She nodded again.

"Alright," he nodded too, then kissed her again.

"You want to, Tommy, don't you?" she asked suddenly, biting her lip.

"Of course I do," he assured her, wondering when the hell the woman would begin to understand how much he wanted her every bloody minute of the fucking day.

She let out a breath.

"You know, it's appropriate that we start in here in a way," he told her, "Because you were standing in this room when I first realised myself that I loved you."

She made a questioning noise in her throat.

"Uhuh," he continued, "You remember the day when you went to the butcher's? Ada was supposed to tell me where you were and she didn't and I went hunting the streets for you?"

She gave a tiny nod, her eyes wide as she listened to him.

"Came back and you were in here, fucking carrot peel in your hair and something smudged over your cheek, wearing an apron over your dress and making a pie. I wanted to take you in my fucking arms then and ask you to stay in my kitchen for the rest of our lives. And then you ended up with me and Lily in here helping you, getting Lily to stir cake mix and grease the tin for going in the oven. You'd told me off for buying you and Lily stuff, you remember? Told me it was too overwhelming for you. Realised then that you standing in this kitchen making a fucking pie overwhelmed me."

"All that time, Tommy?" she asked, a note of amazement in her voice.

"All that time my love," he nodded.

He moved his hands further around her, sliding one upwards to rest on the space between her breasts and her waist, the other down, resting it on the small swell of her lower stomach, above where he eventually wanted to slide it.

He kissed her again, a way of giving her more time to get used to where his hands were journeying to, keen and careful not to overwhelm her.

"Alright my darling girl," he told her, his voice rumbling and quiet as he spoke into her ear, "I'm going to touch you – I'm going to make you cum. It's going to feel good for you, alright?"

She swallowed and nodded.

"I need you to help me though sweetheart, alright?" he said, pausing to kiss her neck before continuing - not expecting an answer and not receiving one - "I'm going to learn your body. Starting tonight. I'm going to master you so that I learn every single way I can touch you to make you feel good. But I need you to tell me the truth when I ask you things alright?"

She made a noise in her throat.

"It's important my darling," he said, pressing more small kisses up her neck, back towards her ear, "That when I ask you if something feels good that you tell me the truth alright?"

He paused, waiting this time until her eyes glanced to his, anticipation, fear and excitement all mingling in them and she realised he was waiting for an answer. She gave it in the form of a nod.

"Good girl. Now, it's also important that you let me know how things feel – and that you're happy and comfortable. Nothing is going to feel good if you don't relax my love. Come on, breathe and relax for me, it's just me and you my darling girl," he coaxed her, squeezing his hold on her, trying to make sure she felt secure.

He felt her sink slightly back against him, relaxing as he had ordered. Direct orders seemed the way forward. She responded better to them.

"Good girl," he told her again and felt her become even less tense in his arms at the phrase, her breathing steadying and deepening under him, reaching to where his lower hand lay rather than stopping in her chest, "Now, if at any point you want me to stop you just tell me and I'll stop, alright? Doesn't matter what I'm doing, I'll stop it immediately, alright?"

She nodded again, her eyes meeting his and holding them this time.

He nodded back and kissed her again, smiling slightly against her mouth, before he told her, "And if you don't want me to stop completely but you want me to slow down or be more gentle, I need you to tell me that too. I'll learn your body and then I'll learn how to push it and manipulate it – but until I get there I'm reliant on you communicating with me, you understand?"

She nodded.

"Speak to me sweetheart."

"Yes Thomas," she whispered, "I understand."

"Good girl. Now let go of that dish – I've got you," he told her.

She flushed again – apparently having forgotten that her hands were still clamped to her work, dropping the thing into the water, the two of them watching it submerge under.

"I thought the lasagne was good after all," she said quietly, her eyes glued to the water.

He managed not to laugh. He had heard her give back to customers during her time in the shop, he had watched her hold a knife to Harrison after he insulted her hair, he'd listened to her tell off that boy from her class, seen her shoot successfully and knew she'd given that same boy a bloody nose more than once. Yet here she was, garbling about lasagne, her voice a touch too high.

"Everything you do is good, my love," he told her, placing another kiss on her neck, "You blow me away every fucking day, you know that don't you?"

She snorted quietly but met his eyes over her shoulder and told him, "You blow me away Tommy."

"Oh I'm going to sweetheart," he told her with a grin, kissing her and moving his top hand up to squeeze and roll each of her breasts in turn, little moans coming from her mouth to his as he did so.

He broke off the kiss and pressed his mouth into her neck, his eyes watching his own hand as he moved it from her stomach, the other still stroking its way around a fully erect and hard nipple.

"Alright my love, spread those legs for me," he told her, sliding his hand around her thigh and pushing between it and its partner, grasping it and tugging it away from the other, bringing his hand up to stroke at the apex of them through her trousers, feeling her nipple push itself further into his hand as she took a quick, shallow breath in response.

"Do you like having your legs open for me?" he murmured, kissing her neck as she nodded in response, "Good girl. I like you having them open for me too."

He pushed his fingers up and into her, moving them backwards and forwards slightly, applying pressure and letting her get used to it before lessening it slightly and cupping his hand around her, stroking her.

"Does that feel good?"

She swallowed, then nodded.

"Good," he replied and kissed her neck.

She gave a little quick pant of a breath then, her voice shuddering slightly as if it was a great effort to admit it, she told him, "It feels nice – but like it's…"

He let the silence hang for a moment before supplying, "Like it's not enough?"

She nodded.

"Teasing you, is it sweetheart?"

He didn't get an answer and he smiled into her neck before promising her, "You should get used to it – I'm going to spend a lot of time teasing your cunt darling. Like I said last night, I like you needy and desperate."

"Tommy!" she moaned, his name oozing out of her mouth like cream she'd poured on the cake that had followed the lasagne, her legs pushing together, her body instinctively attempting to push his hand further against itself.

"Hmm, I suppose you've been a good girl today, no fucking girdles," he said, pretending to think, "It'll satisfy you more if I get under your clothes."

He waited until she realised he was asking her permission to act upon his statement and she met his eyes and nodded, the desire in her overtaking any nerves that had been present earlier.

He moved his hands to the fastenings of her trousers, taking his time working down the row of buttons, kissing her neck with each one he undid until he'd undone them enough to peel them open, only pushing them down slightly until they rested around the tops of her thighs.

Tonight was only going to be the start – he was going to study and master her body. But he wasn't going to go in fully from the outset. Partly for her. Her virginity was intact, he had no doubts about that - but past having never had sex before he was sure she'd never been touched before by anyone other than herself. He wasn't just opening her body up to himself, he was exploring entirely uncharted territory on behalf of them both. But it was his own benefit too, that he didn't undress her and lie her in his bed tonight. He needed to stay in control, in mastery, of himself if he was going to master her as he intended to. And just the idea of her naked with her legs spread was quite enough to make him tremble, never mind if the reality of it was put before him.

He slid his hand to stroke the inside of her thigh, caressing the soft skin that presented itself to his roughened hands before pushing on it, reminding her, "How do I like your legs sweetheart?"

"Open," she muttered, her eyes closed as she complied, moving her leg further in the direction of his push.

"Good girl," he said, moving his hand back to cup around her, the thin underwear letting him feel more as he stroked his fingers back and forth, pressing the heel of his hand down on the top of her and undulating it, knowing the pressure would stimulate her clit in a removed way that wouldn't overwhelm her.

She let out a little moan and he felt her hips tilt slightly forwards, away from where he was pressed into her at the back, pushing into his hand. He pushed her back, the pressure making her moan harder, then slid his hand up to the waistband of her underwear and, after pausing for a moment so she could stop him if she wanted to – which she didn't – slipping inside, moving his fingers down over the soft hair, cupping her exactly as he had done before but without the barrier and sliding a single finger into her slit, rubbing across her entrance and finding her…

"So wet," he grunted into her neck in pleasure.

He felt her tense against him and she whispered, "I'm sorry."

He tensed this time, opening his eyes from where they had fluttered closed so he could enjoy the sensation of her arousal against him.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her eyes meeting his, shame in them, "I know it's not very nice."

His face screwed up in annoyance and confusion before he could stop it, "Who told you that?"

"No one," she answered, her shame intensifying, something that looked almost like fear flitting across her face, "I just – I heard – I mean – I know men don't like it because it's messy."

He took a deep breath and tried to smooth his face out, worried that the fear he'd seen on hers had been caused by his own expression.

He kissed her hard on her mouth then broke back to look into her eyes as he told her, his voice firm, "I don't know where the fuck you heard that but it's wrong. This," he stroked his finger at the wetness, "Is exactly how I want you. This is your body telling me it likes what I'm doing. The wetter you are the more I know I'm pleasing you. And I intend to please you my love. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she told him – though he could sense that lack of conviction in her that seemed to come sometimes when it came to things she doubted in herself.

"You're such a good girl to be so wet for me my love," he told her, hoping to reassure her.

She moaned and he was rewarded for his efforts with a fresh trickle of moisture landing on his fingers as they slid over her entrance.

"You like being my good girl, don't you?"

"I – I like thinking I please you," she told him, her eyes screwed shut and her words breathy, small muscles in her face almost spasming as he stroked at her, running two fingers around her opening, going back and forward across it.

He hadn't been planning to enter her tonight, not even with his fingers – the angle wasn't quite right anyway and he wanted her not to feel pushed at any point – but any second guessing of himself that he might have done about that had left him. He could tell she was going to cum just fine for him without him needing to.

"You always please me darling," he told her, rubbing away, "And any time you don't please me you get a spanking, don't you sweetheart?"

She let out a loud moan and jerked against him.

He let out a low bark of a chuckle, "Although I think maybe that pleases you too."

He slid his other hand in between them, squeezing her arse through her underwear – making her whimper.

"You like me touching your arse darling?"

She made a noise in her throat and nodded, her eyes squeezed shut.

"I like touching it," he told her, "It's the most magnificent arse I've ever seen. I'm looking forward to playing with it for the rest of my days."

She gave another moan as he squeezed at it again with his left hand, his right still rubbing her drenched cunt.

"And when you misbehave my love, I'll put it over my knee and punish it, won't I?"

She nodded, her body tense, her neck strained. He figured she was close. It had been easy. She was receptive to him, like she'd been made specifically for him.

"Does that make you wet - to think about being over my knee?"

She nodded again.

"Naughty girl," he chided, stepping back to land a little smack against her arse, "It's supposed to make you behave when you get a spanking, not turn you on."

"I…" she began, breaking off to gasp as he began to move his fingers back and forth more quickly, "Oh! Tommy! I..."

"You what, sweetheart? What is it?"

"I just like – I like to think I answer to you," she told him, her voice strained, her breathing interrupting her, giving her words a strange pattern as she forced them out, "That's what…"

She trailed off, her words giving way to another moan, this one louder than any that had come before, her face screwing up slightly.

"That's what makes you wet darling? Knowing you answer to me?" he clarified, landing kisses near her ear as he spoke into it.

She nodded.

"Such a good girl, to get wet from that, aren't you darling? Because you do answer to me, don't you?"

"Yes," she moaned, her back arching.

"It pleases me to know that it's me you answer to. Me and no one else. You're mine, sweetheart, aren't you?"

"Yes Tommy."

"My good girl."

"Yes," she moaned.

"Are you close sweetheart?"

She moaned in response.

"Such a good girl," he said, pushing his fingers firmly to her and moving them back and forth – with less movement and more speed, "Now be a good girl and cum hard for me. Show me how much you want to please me darling."

She moaned and screwed her face up, her legs snapping closed around his hand again as she did as he bid her and came hard. He moved the hand he'd laid on her arse quickly around to cross her and hold her to him as she sagged forward, her body spent for the moment.

"Good girl," he murmured, kissing her and keeping his fingers where they were, still applying pressure, letting her ride out her orgasm. One day he'd push her to have multiples, but for now they'd come one at a time.

She took a few steadying breaths then peeled her eyes open and straightened slightly, though he still held her tightly to him.

"Did you like that sweetheart?" he asked, slowly pulling his fingers up and away from her, resting his arm on her waist.

"Mhmm," she nodded, her eyes blinking blearily.

"Good. That pleases me," he told her, kissing her cheek.

She turned her face over her shoulder to him and he kissed her properly, loosening his told on her so she could turn in his arms to face him, still pressed tightly between him and the sink. He deepened the kiss and slid his hands down her back , threading them between her thighs and lifting her up onto his waist, moving to hold her with one hand firmly on her arse, feeling a contented little sigh coming from her as he did, the other moving up to the back of her head, holding her face to his. He carried her over to the kitchen table, kicking a chair out of the way and sitting her on it, standing between her legs and kissing her some more.

"Can I touch you Tommy?" she asked, slightly nervous, when they broke apart.

He smiled and stroked her cheek, "Not tonight my love."

"But it felt good for me Tommy – I want – I want to be able to please you too," she pushed.

"Sweetheart, it pleases me that I learn your body first, that we learn together how I can make you feel good."

"Well we learned that," she answered, frowning slightly.

He laughed and kissed her nose, "Oh my love, that was a very small introduction to how I can make you feel good. There are many, many more ways we're going to explore together."

"Like what?" she asked, her voice almost becoming slightly petulant.

"All in good time."

"When can we do it again."

"Eager little thing, aren't you?"

"I thought you liked that?"

"Oh my love, I do, I very much do," he assured her, kissing her and tangling his hands in her hair, "Same way I like that you want to please me, that you choose to answer to me, that you enjoy being my good girl as much as I enjoy you being my good girl, eh?"

"Do you think it makes me a bad woman Tommy?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"Do I think what makes you a bad woman?"

"That I want to please you, to answer to you," she told him, her eyes focussing somewhere distant and unseen to him, "I want to be able to vote and work and be independent. I want all women to get those opportunities, same as men. I don't want women to be second, always, to men. I want to live up to Sylvia. But when I'm with you… I like to obey you Tommy. I like to try and please you. I like that if I don't, there are consequences and then we move on and we don't go to bed in a cold war. I hate arguing with you. I want things to always be good with us and I like that I feel safe – like I know where my place is when I'm with you rather than like before… I always felt like I was going through the world watching it around me rather than being in it. When I'm with you – I feel like I'm in the world. But I feel guilty, Tommy. I feel like I'm finally in the world but I'm in it and not being the woman I want to be because I've manged to come into it by submitting to you. Does that make any sense?"

"Oh you silly little girl," he said gently, kissing her head, "You get yourself all worked up about the silliest things, don't you my love?"

"It's not silly Thomas!" she snapped, glaring up at him.

"Ah but it is," he told her, unabashed – to her annoyance, "Who do you answer to sweetheart?"

"It'll not be you if you keep patronising my political views Thomas," she told him, her voice sharp, "I might like pleasing you but I'm not a stupid little girl, I've done my research and I know what I believe in."

"Well there's your answer then, eh?"

She raised an eyebrow and glared at him.

"You answer to me, my girl," he told her, "You don't answer to any other man. Far fucking from it. And here's the secret of it sweetheart – for as long as you answer to me, for as long as you're mine, and past that, should you ever change your mind, I am yours. That means I live in service of you – of pleasing you, of keeping you safe, of looking after you. Do you understand?"

"Yes Tommy," she whispered, nodding, her annoyance leaving her.

He kissed her, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth, "Good girl. And here's the thing – I will expect obedience from you, even when you don't want to give it. And I'll expect you to watch your tongue and address me respectfully at all fucking times. But for my part, I'll respect you and your politics and your beliefs. And so, when I make decisions for you, I'll consider everything from your perspective before I give you your orders, how does that sound?"

She nodded in agreement.

"Good. And if you truly disagree with me on something, you can always tell me and I'll always think on it, alright?"

She nodded again.

"I love you," he told her, his hand in her hair, "I will make sure you are looked after, properly, for all of your days, alright?"

"I love you too," she told him, her arms going around him, burying her face into his chest, pulling him closer to her.

"No more silly questions then, eh?"

She shook her head.

"One last thing sweetheart," he said, and waited until she drew back her head to look up and meet his eyes, "Any idiot of a man who complains about a woman being wet isn't fit to be in her bed. So I don't know where you got that idea from." (He did know – he was sure she'd overheard some client of her mother's at some point, but he wasn't going to say that.) "But in terms of you being a modern, empowered woman my love – you will not, at any point, be lying on your back and thinking of England and the king whilst I take my own pleasure from you with no regard for yours. You and I are going to explore the wonders of your body and you are going to have a fucking wonderful time as we do so, alright? And you can write to fucking Sylvia and tell her that you are going to contribute to women's liberation by only having exceptionally good sex, how does that sound?"

"I don't know if she'd think that an appropriate letter to get Tommy."

He snorted, "And who decided what was appropriate, eh?"

She kissed him and he smiled against her pretty little mouth before he told her.

"I'll tell you who. The fucking cavalry. Your precious patriarchy and the upper classes and the fucking bourgeoisie club. So let's fuck them all by fucking their systems and their definitions of appropriate, eh? Let's you and me just revel between us in what makes us feel good, eh?"

She kissed him deeply before saying, "Tommy?"

"Hmm?" he hummed questioning as he kissed her forehead.

"You know you sound like a fucking communist, right?" she grinned up at him.

"You say that again and you'll go over my knee."

"Tommy?"

"Hmm?"

"You know you sound like a communist, right?"

I'm so sorry I missed last week guys! I just went into that space between Christmas and New Year where I couldn't have told you what day of the week it was and realised the other day that I had definitely missed an upload. Anyway, I hope this was worth the wait - and I hope those of you who celebrate Christmas had a lovely one and that everyone had a nice new year! xxx