Chapter 7

Steppingout of the tub Wednesday evening, I heaved a happy sigh as I dried off and slipped into the same pink pajamas I'd worn the night before, and wrapped a towel around my hair so it wouldn"t soak the fabric.

Taking so much unproductive time for myself in the evenings still gave me pangs of guilt, at least until I sent Lennon the required picture.

Stalking out of my en suite and into my bedroom, I glanced longingly at the leopard-print pajamas Lennon had bought me. They were by far my favorite, even though I hadn"t worn them yet. I was saving them for a night where Lennon might see them in person, assuming that night would ever come.

I hadn't seen him since Monday afternoon, when he'd randomly announced he had to go to work, kissed me senseless, told me I wasn"t allowed to touch myself and called me an uber to take me to my car.

That fact alone was starting to give me a complex. Or, it would have, if not for the fact that Lennon, despite not making plans to see me, had been in constant contact. He texted me every morning, several times throughout the day, and every evening.

As if on cue, my phone chirped from my nightstand. Although the instinct was to rush to it, I ignored it for now, taking my time to dry my hair and rub lotion into my skin. I sat at my vanity and did my nighttime skincare routine, and when I was finished I grabbed my phone without looking at it and went to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea.

While it brewed, I opened the drawer under the microwave where I'd stashed my self-care truffles and placed two on a saucer before pouring my tea into a matching cup. Carrying both back to the bedroom, I placed them on my bedside table and climbed up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in the center of it to finally read my messages from Lennon.

Hey, little girl, are you getting ready for bed yet? It's almost bedtime.

I sighed as I looked at the clock, wishing he wasn't right, or that he hadn't given me a bedtime, but that was his newest rule. After finding out I normally operated on less than five hours of sleep, Lennon had implemented a bedtime that would guarantee me at least seven, and as much as I hated it, I had to admit that I'd woken up this morning feeling refreshed, a fact that had delighted Lennon when he checked in with me this morning.

Deciding not to answer with words, I pulled up my camera and stretched out on the comforter, holding my phone at an angle above me to snap the pic. Then I sent it without looking so I didn"t have to worry about my crow's feet.

Good girl. Did you take a bath?

I did. And I've got my tea and chocolates.

Even though I knew he couldn't see me, I sat up and sipped my tea, then bit into a decadent truffle.

You have class tomorrow, right?

Two in the morning and then I'm off until the Monday after next.

I nibbled my lip as I waited to see what he would say. He'd demanded that I take the time off, but hadn't mentioned what he expected me to do with that time, or whether he planned to be a part of it.

I decided to add:

I'll be done at one o'clock.

When his next text came through, I let go of the breath I hadn't known I was holding.

I'll be at your place at two.

Just as soon as the relief settled, a fresh wave of panic broke through. I hadn't expected him to want to come to my home, even though Archer always had. With Lennon, it seemed different.

The thought of Lennon being here filled me with anxious excitement, while also making me want to run around in a frenzy cleaning everything, which was ridiculous since I kept an immaculate home. I sat frozen, unsure how to respond.

Zoe?

Hmmm?

That's three.

I stared down at the message on my screen, wondering what he meant by that, racking my brain for something that made sense, and coming up empty.

Three what?

Three times I've asked you a question and had you not respond appropriately. You need to get in the habit of calling me Daddy before I get there, little girl.

A shiver ran down my spine, both at the veiled threat, and the endearment. I'd discovered I loved it when he called me ‘little girl', even though I was anything but little.

Or maybe that was why.

My fingers hovered above my phone, my bottom clenching as I remembered the last time I had earned a consequence for not calling him Daddy. He'd made me wear that plug all day, until I'd gotten ready for bed that evening. After I'd pulled it out, he'd told me to wash it and put it in my nightstand so it would be there the next time I needed it. I wondered when that would be, and hoped it wouldn"t be now. I didn't think I could put it in myself.

As I contemplated what to write another text came through.

Have you been a good girl and refrained from touching yourself?

Yes, Daddy.

With a soft sigh, I sent him the answer I knew he wanted to hear. It was also the truth. Monday had been torturous, but not touching myself hadn't been the bad part, because I'd never been one to do much of that, either. Ladies didn't and all that.

Can I call?

Before I could say yes, the phone rang. My heart actually skipped a beat as I rushed to answer it.

"Hello?" My voice came out huskier than I expected, and I grimaced. I sounded like a phone-sex operator, I was sure.

Lennon didn't seem to mind. "Well, hello there, little one."

Oh god. It was even better when he spoke it in that honey-smooth voice of his. Wetness pooled between my legs, dampening the silk fabric of my pajamas.

"Hi," I squeaked, cringing when my voice came out sounding like a teenage girl whose first crush had just noticed her.

"So you really haven't touched yourself?" Lennon asked. There was a hint of disbelief in his voice, like this was the one rule he'd been expecting me to break.

"I really haven't," I confirmed. My voice lowered to a near whisper. "I don't really… do that."

There was silence over the line, like he either didn't hear me at all, or he was still processing what I'd just said. I couldn't decide which would be worse.

"Holy shit."

It was an awe-filled exclamation, and my stomach sank.

Well, he definitely heard me, and now he's going to decide he's way out of my league and I"m too inexperienced to be bothered with.

"I just… never really got into it," I defended.

"Do it now," he commanded.

I'd just opened my mouth to speak, and it froze half-open. Surely, he didn't really say that. I was imagining things, right? I had to be.

"I'm sorry?" I croaked. This certainly wasn't how I saw our first phone call going.

But Lennon wasn't perturbed by my hesitation, and just kept saying the most delicious bossy things. "Lean back against your pillows, put the phone next to you on speaker, and slide your hand down the front of those sexy little shorts."

As if I was a marionette and he was the puppeteer pulling the strings, I obeyed. Slowly. In order. The first two things were easy, but the third one gave me pause.

He really wants me to touch myself? While he's still on the phone?

Before I could question it, Lennon started to talk, and I let his sexy-smooth voice lull me into complacent obedience.

My hand rested with my fingers just inside the waistband of my shorts and I had to remind myself that he couldn't see me through the phone as I slowly slid it beneath the fabric. Unsure of what to do, I cupped myself.

"Are you touching yourself yet?" he asked.

"Sort of," I answered, forcing myself to keep my tone even.

If he thought it was a strange answer, he didn't comment. "You know what I"ve spent the last two days doing?"

"What?" I slid a finger between my pussy lips, marveling at the wetness I found there. This man had managed to arouse me with his voice and a few text messages far more effectively than my ex ever had actually being there.

"I've been reading over your application and committing your answers to memory." He paused. "I also looked over the first one. There's a lot of difference between the two. How do you feel about your answers on the second one? Do you want to change anything before we get together?"

My fingers stilled just as I started to touch myself. I wasn"t expecting to be interrogated while being forced to play with myself, but I saw what he was doing by distracting me this way. I paused to think over what he was asking.

"Monday was full of emotion and change, and I don't want to keep you beholden to anything you may have decided without thinking it through."

I forced myself to relax, reminding myself that him asking me to be sure wasn't him rejecting me. I wasn't forcing anything on him that he didn't want to do. The questions were on there for a reason, and what he chose to do with that information was up to him. My stomach knotted, though, at the thought of actually having to follow through with some of my answers. Not because I didn't want to…

"I don't need to change anything," I whispered. "But… I mean, I can always use a safeword if I don't like something, right?"

"Absolutely you can. That's what safewords are for."

The real question was on the tip of my tongue and I lightly stroked my folds as I pushed it past my lips. "Do you want to do those things, though? Because… we don't have to. Just because I said I would be okay with it doesn't mean…"

His answer was a warm chuckle that made me picture his dimples popping up as his smile spread across his face. "Oh babygirl, but I do want to. So much." As if to prove it, he asked, "Are you touching yourself now?"

"Yes," I admitted. "Just a little."

"A little, huh? Are you wet?"

I could feel the heat flushing my chest and cheeks at being asked such intimate questions. It was strange to me, but I liked it. "Yes, Daddy."

"Good. Since this is all new to you, would you like it if Daddy took charge for a little?"

I was still trying to figure out what he meant by that when he spoke again.

"Unbutton your top. Are you wearing a bra?"

"No, Sir. No panties, either." My voice shook as I answered him. My fingers trembled as I unbuttoned my pajama top.

"With your free hand, I want you to touch your breast."

I let out a soft sigh as I did what I was told. My breasts had never been my favorite. They were too small, the nipples were too big, and now the skin was too soft, but I knew better than to voice any of that.

"Is your hand on your breast?" he asked, after a beat.

"Yes, Daddy." It didn't feel as bad as I thought it would. With one hand between my legs, the other on my breast, and Lennon's voice in my ear, I could almost pretend I was enjoying myself. The soft, slightly saggy skin felt good under my fingers, and I brushed the pad of my thumb over my nipple. I sucked in a breath, cringing as I waited to hear what he would say next. I wasn't sure I would be able to do it.

Phone sex—or rather the idea of it, because of course, this was my first foray into that experience—had always seemed like it would be so awkward, like a badly scripted porn movie.

I just knew that if Lennon said something crazy, like "oh your nipple feels so good in my mouth," or "I'm touching your breast, my fingers are in your hair" describing things that certainly were not happening, I'd burst into laughter.

Thankfully, Lennon said nothing of the sort.

"How does it feel, touching yourself?" he asked.

My breath caught in my chest as I opened my mouth to answer. What did he want from me? "I… I… good, I guess."

Lennon's only reply was a soft chuckle.

I felt so awkward, as if I was messing everything up. How could he possibly want to be with me after this?

But his voice was soft, sexy, and cajoling when he spoke again. "Just imagine that the hands touching you are mine. They will be tomorrow." There was a raw lust in his voice, and the fact that I could tell he was affected just by the thought of me touching myself did something to me. It made me feel sexy. It made it all feel a little bit less ridiculous.

"I can't wait to have you touch me," I panted into the phone. "What… what are you gonna do?"

"Oh babygirl…" His breath was a deep shuddering sigh. "I'm gonna do whatever I want for as long as you'll let me."

"Oh." What else could I say? I spread my thighs a bit wider, giving myself a better angle, and inhaled deeply as my fingers caressed my wet, swollen folds, imagining they were Lennon's fingers.

"I'm going to worship your body…"

I slipped one of my fingers inside my channel and brushed my swollen clit with the pad of my thumb.

"I'm going to lay you on your bed and strip you naked. I'm going to kiss your mouth so hard you're going to feel it in your soul. When I've kissed you so thoroughly your lips actually hurt, I will kiss you everywhere else. I'll start with your collarbone, and trail down your cleavage. I'll cup your breasts and take your rosy nipples into my mouth, licking them until they are hard and tight."

God. I couldn't hold back the moan that escaped my lips as I pictured what he was describing, with Lennon's sleek, sweaty, naked body poised over mine. I swallowed hard and rubbed my clit harder, bucking my hips as I fucked myself harder, deeper, faster. I no longer felt self-conscious about doing so. Surely that was part of his plan.

"I'll lay a trail of kisses down your belly, until I reach your sweet mound. You'll cry out for me. Your pussy will be swollen and wet, craving my touch, but I'll kiss your bikini line first, your inner thighs, all the way down to your knees, until you're begging and crying my name."

"Lennon." My voice was a ragged whisper as my ministrations reached a fever pitch. My body started to heat from the inside out.

"Ah, ah, babygirl, you better slow down. I haven't finished my story."

"Ah, ah, ah!"

I tried to slow down, to force myself to deny the orgasm I felt cresting. I was about to give in to the pleasure when Lennon's voice cut through my lust- filled haze, sharp and commanding.

"Don't even think about coming, babygirl. Your pleasure belongs to Daddy."

My body froze. My fingers stilled. My blood turned from lava to ice. "W-what?" I stuttered.

There it was again. The deep, melodic chuckle. "I think you heard me just fine."

"B-but you told me to touch myself!" I accused, sitting up like a shot and pulling my shirt back over my shoulders, furiously working the buttons while I glared at the phone as if he could see the ‘tude I was throwing at him.

"I did. I wanted to get you more comfortable with your body, and I wanted to teach you to take my commands, even when it felt unnatural."

My glare deepened even as I admitted to myself that it had worked.

"You did very well," he continued. I could almost hear him smiling through the phone. "Tomorrow Daddy's good girl will get a reward."

God, I wanted a reward. My mind danced over all the delicious things that one word could mean. But I was still mad, and I was not ready to give up my anger just yet. "What if I'm not?"

"What if you're not what?"

"What if I'm not Daddy's good girl?" I asked coyly. "What if I…?"

"What if you… what? Touch yourself after we get off the phone? Make yourself come? Decide to be a bad girl instead of a good girl? Is that what you mean?"

"Mmm-hmm." I couldn't have managed actual words. My mouth was dry. My heart was racing.

"I don't think you'll do that." Lennon's voice was smooth and confident.

How could he be so sure? I wasn't.

"Good girls get their pussies teased and licked and worshiped. Bad girls get their asses spanked and fucked. Your behavior will make the choice about what will happen when I finally get to see you again."

Oh. Damn. That was how.