This is part 8 in an ongoing story, a segment by Charmer, a segment by Snake…

Part 1 (Hers), Part 2 (His), Part 3 (Hers), Part 4 (His), Part 5 (Hers), Part 6 (His), Part 7 (Hers)

He was in trouble, and he knew it. He hadn’t paid attention early on when she was talking about dinner places. Or, at least he assumed he hadn’t paid attention. He sure didn’t remember anything at all about it, that’s for sure. Gabe couldn’t for the life of him remember the conversation with any specifics. All he COULD remember were those legs, and the mental buttons she was busy pushing in his head.

He’d guessed at the Italian place since they so often loved going out for good Italian food.

He’d guessed wrong, clearly.

Even more to the point, he felt like a big buffoon for letting her down. He really wanted to have this whole weekend thing go really smoothly and was reveling in how she approached things, her attitude, her strength. He really didn’t want to blow it right out of the gate.

She let him know exactly how she felt about it. Not only in words, but… that look. She was willing to go along with the restaurant he’d reserved, but it was clear, very clear, that she wasn’t as happy with it.

She looked him directly in the eye – “Fine. Since we already have reservations. I’m disappointed. I suggest you start paying more attention when I speak.”

It was like a lightning bolt. He really didn’t expect that. He felt this surge of both wanting to be better, and really … physically responding … to this side of her. And, of course, this was just as they pulled in. This was going to be difficult to hide going into the restaurant! He tried to adjust his pants to hide the impact of the lightning bolt. He was mortified that she noticed and called him on it. He tried to explain that he didn’t want anyone to see, but she waved him off, explaining that was hardly his biggest challenge at the moment.

He looked up to see her waiting in her seat. Just patiently waiting. “The door, you dingbat! Get the door for her and help her out!” was this voice in his head. He really needed to get his head back in the game and get his shit together. He briskly walked around the car, still struggling to arrange things to be less evident; thankfully, he also had his coat, so that provided some cover.

He opened the door, offered a hand out to help her. She ignored his hand, getting out and heading toward the restaurant, a step or two ahead. He reached around, opened the door for her as they entered.

As they checked in and he confirmed the name, she stopped in the middle of the sentence with the hostess, turned fully toward him, and stopped for a beat. “You meant to make them under my name, correct?” He felt his heart sink. He felt his face flush, realizing what he’d done. He was not hitting what she wanted, not at all. His mind was racing now.

What other items did I miss? What can I do to make sure it’s right from now forward? What would she love to have happening? What is this doing to his thoughts?

He was spinning and pulled himself back to reality just in time to hear her say “It looks perfect, Thank you.” As he sat, she stared at him for a few moments. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t angry, but it was this odd look, like she was questioning him, assessing, thinking about him. She paused, and asked that the server bring the wine menu.

Gabe reached for his menu to see what looked interesting – he’d heard the food was amaz…

“You don’t need that,” Bree said looking over her menu. “I will be deciding on what you should eat. You probably could have chosen if you had picked the right restaurant, but since you didn’t, I will be ordering for you this evening.”

He melted. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

He melted? What is THAT about? He should be insulted, mad, dismissed. He was none of that. He felt her words rock through him from head to toe. It was strange and powerful and amazing and scary and completely and utterly unexpected. All he could think to say was “Yes, Mistress.”

She pointed out the bread she wanted, and indicated the bread he could have. Once he’d prepared it for her and had his, he was about to take a bite and she stopped him cold. “No, you do not eat before I do. Mind your manners.” Those zaps again, but this time, they stuck around, running up and down him, his mind was excited and confused and curious and…

and, well, just her words, her attitude, her … made him squirm. He tried to hide it, but it was impossible. This mental game was really messing with him. Of course she knew him well, recognized the squirm in an instant. He assumed it would just fly by. Nothing would be said.

She was having none of that.

“A little uncomfortable,” she smirked.

Not any more. A LOT uncomfortable now.

“No, Mistress. I mean, yes, Mistress, I am, but not in a bad way.” He felt like he shrunk into the chair, embarrassed at being called out. She stopped, just that grin, looking him in the eye. It was like all blood flow left his head and followed her gaze as she slowed looked him over.

Bree laughed. She pointed at his glass of wine and said simply “To new beginnings,” and took a sip. He got caught up, just watching her. Her look. Her mouth. Her words. What did that mean? Why did it impact him so – this whole thing, what is up with that? He had to know. Then she licked her lips ever so slightly. And grinned.

The next thing he knew, she ran her foot up his leg. He just about jumped out of his skin.

“Someone is wound tight,” she laughed. You have no idea, he thought to himself. “You may eat now,” she nodded at his plate. He kept watching her. She was powerful. Confident. In control. And she appreciated when he got it right helping, and sure did let him know when he didn’t. All of it created both a mental and a physical rush through him. He liked getting it right far more than messing it up.

He was completely wound up in his thoughts. Wondering what exactly all this was about. Why it did all this. I mean, she’d only touched his leg. But here he was, ooey, gooey, and on high alert in every possible good way.

She leaned forward to talk with him…. that cleavage. Oh god, That cleavage.

Face. Look at her face. That voice in his head again. Thankfully.

As he did, she wasn’t smiling anymore. Not angry, just not smiling. “You do understand that this is just the beginning, right? I’m not talking about this weekend. I’m expecting you to learn how to serve me in the manner in which I deserve. Obviously, there will be adjustments for home and work, but I know what you want. And I’m going to allow you to serve me.”

The words washed over him. It settled on him, racing through him and at the same time calming. It was the strangest feeling. All of that was combined with the excitement that she was going to let him do this for her. They’d beat around the bush, but she’d never really pushed, never really sort of staked her claim, as it were.

Then she smiled. A grin, really. A knowing, sarcastic, sexy, owning grin.

“I am giving you until the time we get back to the hotel to tell me if this is not what you want and all will go back as it was. If, however, you want this as much as I think you do, you will indicate it by handing me the car keys when you help me out of the car.”

When she asked if he needed time to think, he was glad his thoughts didn’t burst out of him. “Back to the hotel, Mistress” he said. It might have been back where they were, but it would certainly not be going back to the way they were. Not if he had anything to say about it, not if he could prove himself to her, not if she could let him show just how he did indeed want to serve her.

He opened her door to get in the car and, just before she swung into the car, she leaned over and kissed him. A warm, long kiss. It was like the world stopped. She paused, kissing him again, this time pulling his lip into her mouth and holding on with her teeth. He gasped a little – not so much from any pain, but the realization that she was holding him in place, just that simply. He opened his eyes and she was looking him right in the eye. Frozen in time.

After a couple of pounding beats of his heart that he felt in every square inch of his body, she released him and sat carefully in the car, getting comfortable before looking up at him and nodding for him to close the door.

The ride back was mercifully short, and long, all at the same time. They hit every red light. Every slow vehicle had pulled in front of them. It was funny, but only because he was so ready. She made small talk all the way back. Like this huge thing didn’t actually hang between them. Like there wasn’t this big change, or potential for it, in the air.

And then, then they were back. He turned the car off, took a deep breath and looked at her. She smiled back and placed her hands in her lap, waiting. He walked around, opened the door and helped her out.