She gasps and I find her mouth, swallowing that cry and then the next, and as soon as I feel her clutch around me and tip into her climax, I let loose and follow, my balls unloading a heavy stream unlike any other release. Endless spurts, all for her.

After, I curl around her and pet her hair as she debriefs on the dirty talk in the tub, and peppers me with questions about my Daddy fantasies, which I don’t really have answers for.

“It’s just you,” I keep telling her. “How I feel about you. I’ve never explored this before, but whatever feels right between us…”

“It’s just right,” she agrees. Then she pushes herself off the bed and wiggles her cute bum to the washroom.

When she returns, she strolls around the room naked, picking up some things we’ve scattered about, making quick order of the space.

“We should get dressed,” she says regretfully after a minute.

I’m distracted, looking at her ass, but I nod and agree.

“I want to wear one of your shirts.”

Because I’m distracted, I don’t really realize what she means until she flips open the top of my suitcase and stops when she finds the gift wrapped present on top of my jeans. “Wait, is this for me?”

“Don’t—”

But she’s already picking it up. The paper crinkles as her fingers sink into the soft, squishy package. Maybe if she focuses on what that could be, she won’t see what’s sitting right beneath it.

“This is so sweet,” she says, twisting toward me, her face soft and flushed, her eyes twinkling. “I got you some presents yesterday, too. Just little things. Now I’m so excited for you to open them.”

Then she turns back to the suitcase.

“But I really do want one of your—” She stops.

Fuck.

“Jacob?” Her voice wavers.

She picks up the small, square velvet box nestled in the middle of my suitcase.

Sitting exactly where I shoved it in the Portland airport. Where it’s been this whole time, because the moment was never right, not when everything about this trip turned sideways from what I was expecting.

“What’s this?”

“Put it down.” The three words tear out of me. A rough order that she ignores, because she’s a willful brat, my brat, and she doesn’t take instructions she doesn’t understand.

Why would she put it down? It’s obviously for her.

Just not now.

Not when she’s naked and I haven’t come clean to her family and—

“But this is…” She turns and frowns at me. “Why do you want me to put it down?”

“I…” I scramble off the bed.

We’re both naked.

This shouldn’t happen when we’re both naked, right?

But it “should” have happened a long time ago.