“I have something for you.”
She looked up at him carefully, green eyes widening, pale hands unconsciously reaching back to tuck her long, dark brown hair up so that it fell at the nape of her neck. Surprises were something that she was accustomed to giving; surprises were not something that she was accustomed to receiving.
“Really?”
Her voice was soft, suffused with a hint of curiosity. She reached over and set her glass of prosecco down on the oaken coffee table, then sat back on her haunches, giving him a perfect view of the creamy rise of her breasts above the red and black fishnet and mesh negligee she’d chosen to wear to their little Christmas Eve tete-à-tête.
“What is it?”
He said nothing, staring instead at her stunningly pale beauty caught, trapped, by the firelight. He handed over the red box with no pretense of hiding his gaze. This was no ordinary box, rather one covered in golden glitter that reflected the light cast by the Christmas tree lights and the fire, tied with an extravagantly wide, long, black silken ribbon that ended in a perfect bow, the ends of which cascaded down over her left wrist.
Watching her, transfixed by her, as she knelt on the dark patterned Oriental rug gracing the living room floor, his eyes flicking between her hands and her eyes and the beautiful curve of her waist, the spread of her wide hips and the full roundness of her ass, he almost forgot about what was in the box he had just handed over.
“A surprise that I’ve been wanting to give you for a while now.”
She giggled, looking up at him, arching one dark eyebrow.
“You could’ve just given me a solid fuck, my darling. Did you want to do that instead?”
Mute, he shook his head. No. Not now.
She began carefully undoing the ribbon, folds of black fabric falling across thighs so translucently white that they threatened to put milk to shame. After what seemed to be an eternity, the ribbon fell away completely, a shimmering black pile on her lap, and the box was as a shucked oyster, ready to be opened.
“Open it.” His voice was both hesitant and commanding, anxious and affirmative all at once.
A sharp gasp shattered the quiet of the room as she removed the box lid. Inside, couched in black velvet, glittered the vintage three stone sapphire and diamond engagement ring set in platinum, the same one she’d been coveting for nigh on a year at her jeweller’s in Seattle.
“Sweetness, my love, marry me.” The hesitation in his voice was gone now.
Not “will you marry me,” nothing resembling a question. Again, a command, and one he clearly expected to be followed.
“Ohhh…”
She lost her words just then, as he took her left hand firmly in his right, removing the ring from the box and slipping it onto her left ring finger. She had not said yes, but they both knew that she had no objections, just as they both knew that any objection she voiced would be evenly ignored.
He pulled her to her feet now, but oddly, she caught the ribbon instead of his left hand as he had expected her to do. She began to tug frantically at his trousers, and he obligingly unfastened his belt, beginning to push her back down to her knees.
This time, though, she resisted. His dark brown eyes, flecked with gold and swirls of a paler café colour like fine Belgian milk chocolate, caught hers, and for a moment, she saw confusion and a slight bit of fear.