11:49 p.m.
Master bedroom, The lights dimmed to a single amber lamp. Lily sits cross legged on the bed in one of Alexander’s black T-shirts, hair loose.
Alexander stands at the foot of the bed, shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, watching her brush her hair with slow, careful strokes. Every time she lifts her arms the T-shirt rides higher on her thighs.
His pulse has been climbing for the last twenty minutes. He remembers the toys John delivered this afternoon. He remembers the way she clenched around two fingers the first night and nearly cried from the stretch.
He remembers the promise he made to himself. No full penetration until she can take him without pain.
Tonight his restraint is fraying. Lily sets the brush down, notices his stare, and flushes. "What?", Lily asks softly.
Ale
