"To us," my father replied. He held up his glass, as did Elaine and I. Together, we shot back the vodka and then turned to the blini and caviar once more.
Dinner was an elegant yet relaxed affair. We sat at a beautifully appointed table, set with fine china and crystal, silverware, the table with a crisp white tablecloth, crystal bowls of flowers and gilded chairs. We sampled the menu, enjoying the savory treats and specialties, Drake telling us about each dish and where it came from in Russia.
Even though his father had been absent when Drake was a boy, Liam's influence on him was measurable. Drake had latched onto everything about his father that he could – his music, his musicianship, his love of everything Russian, his ability to speak the language, even in the end, his career as a physician and surgeon. I suppose it was a way to hold onto an absent father – becoming him, emulating him.
It was then a sense of gloom seeped into my consciousness. Liam had been absent from his marriage and family. Drake compartmentalized the way his father did – keeping his sex life and his job and his music separate and it lead to his marriage's failure. Would Drake also be an absent partner or had he finally overcome his reluctance to commit to a complete relationship?
He seemed to have changed since I met him, letting go of his desire to keep things separate on his plate. Indeed, he seemed to welcome it, as if he easily threw away his previous rules when he learned I was the submissive he would train. He seemed to want a life partner, not only a play partner. But would he stay that way or would old habits creep in once the luster of our new relationship wore off?
I tried to push that thought out of my mind and watched him as he spoke with Elaine and my father, enjoying their company, talking and laughing. He looked so gorgeous in his expensive slate grey suit and crisp white shirt, a black tie, belt and shoes completing his outfit. His longish black hair was clean and shining in the overhead light, his square jaw covered in the right amount of stubble to be hip. His blue blue eyes were framed by thick black lashes and dark arched brows.
My breath hitched in my throat just to look at him, my body warming as I thought about how he'd fuck me later, and even later than that, how we'd lie in each other's arms and fall asleep, sated.
Tonight was a time to relax in each other's company, and as I watched him talking with my father, I thought he truly was enjoying himself. He turned to me, his arm around the back of my chair, that look in his eyes promising so much. He leaned over and kissed my cheek, his other hand slipping along my thigh under the tablecloth to lift up the hem of my dress and stroke my thigh briefly to remind me.
Then he turned back, picked up his glass of wine, and toasted us once again.
Much later, after our coffee and dessert, and after saying our goodbyes to my father and Elaine, we drove to Drake's apartment on 8th Avenue. The streets were quite bare that time of night and huge snowflakes fell lazily from a cloud-covered sky, the lights of the city reflecting on the cloud surface, lighting up the streets.
Once we were back in the apartment, Drake was barely able to contain himself, and after he removed our coats and threw both onto the chair by the door, he pushed me into the living room, guiding me with hands on my hips, biting playfully at my neck.
"I love seeing my collar on you," He stopped in front of the couch and turned me to face him. "Now, my lovely Katherine," he said, pulling my hair out of its clip, smoothing it with his hands. "It's time to do your duty for your Master."
He turned me around to face the couch, pressing on my back so that I leaned over, my arms on the back, my knees spread wide. He pulled up my dress so that my ass was once more bared. Then, I heard his belt buckle jangle, the metallic slither of his fly unzipping, and the rustle of clothes. He leaned over me, one hand sliding around my waist to my pussy, fingers spreading me until he found my clit, which he began to massage. With the other hand, he brushed my long hair out of the way and pulled down the shoulder of my dress.
He began kissing the back of my neck and shoulder, biting the muscle softly, nibbling at my ear as he cupped my breast through the fabric of my dress. Finally, as if impatient, he pulled down the zipper on the back of my dress and drew down the entire side so that my breast spilled out from its confinement. He grabbed my breast and squeezed, my nipple between his fingers and thumb. He tweaked it, and the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through my body right to my clit. I gasped in response.
Then, he removed his hand and rubbed the head of his cock over my labia from behind, and it felt so good, I wanted to force my body back onto him. I needed to feel him fill me up with his hardness while his fingers brushed my clit.