Daddy, Take Me Ch. 27

"I do, Chloe," and she wrapped me in her arms, our eyes searching the other's.

"May I?" she sighed, staring at me, her fingers in my hair. I knew what she was asking, her eyes said more than words at this point.

"Uhm...yes," I breathlessly said, hoping I wouldn't faint.

Arabella leaned down and took my lips. Against all my better judgement, I gave in to her, our mouths finally touching, her soft tongue piercing my now-wet lips. I dropped the plans on the ground, my arms around her, as I tried to devour her. Our very first tender kiss was a mix of desire and need. Our mouths searched and prodded each other's, our mixed moans spurring our yearning on. She scrunched down, her lips on my neck, as I melted into her. My hands cautiously wafted over her full breasts, wanting only to envelop them in my small hands. I felt her suck my neck, my moans no longer subdued.

"Ohhhh, Arabella... that's...so..." I groaned, letting her take me. I came to my senses, but not soon enough.

"No...Arabella...I can't. I'm...supposed to be the damn professional here," I giggled. "We...we shouldn't. I...I need to stay focused. Ohhh, God, Arabella," I groaned, and kissed her furiously. Not soon enough, I pulled away, embarrassed at my need. "No...no...please. I...shouldn't, 'kay," I said, hoping she would see the sense in what I was trying to say.

We held each other, our arms wrapped around the other's bottoms. Involuntarily, I squeezed hers, as she playfully swatted mine.

"My God, Chloe," she sighed, looking at me deeply. "You're so...adorable," she exhaled, her hands now playing with the lapel of my dress, her fingers sliding in and touching my bralette. And I let her. She had me, no matter what my voice was saying. The cool silver of her bracelets, along with her heartfelt lips, made me shiver.

"We're going to be spending a lot of time together, Arabella," I groaned, and took a step back. "I...I don't want this to get confusing, all right? I'll be here most days overseeing your project and I...I can't let these feelings get in the way, 'kay?" I asked, uncertain if I wanted her to believe me or not.

She only smirked at me. Just like my daddy does! Humph!

"This is separate, Chloe, okay? It won't interfere...I won't interfere, okay? I wanted you the first time I laid eyes on you...darling," she sighed, taking a small step toward me, her fingers, once again surreptitiously playing with my underthings.

Fuck! She said that word! I thought. Darling!

"Tell you what. A compromise, hmm? When you're here, eight to four or whatever...you're in charge, okay? After that, well..." she smiled, and kissed me again.

"I...I can live with that, Arabella," I sighed, all defences down and gone now.

"C'mon, let me show you the house, okay? You may get a better feel of what I'm...interested in," she chuckled, her bra-encased breasts jiggling with every playful laugh.

We walked, hand in hand, back to the house and started the tour on the ground floor where we were. The large, open-plan living space was marvellous, a roomy floor-to-ceiling open space. There was a minstrels gallery above us, with intricately carved oak balustrades set off by Persian rugs hung over the rails. The artwork was obviously expensive, a wonderful mix of modern Rothko-esque with a smattering of paintings inspired by de Kooning thrown in. It all worked seamlessly, even in this ancient building.

She picked up a vase, looked around and moved it to another ledge. As she gingerly placed it there, she took my hand and we walked to yet another door.

We slowly walked from room to room, ducking at some of the low doorway beams. I was impressed, with each room having a different, but linked theme. Parts of the house dated from the 1500s. Arabella was behind me, her hand resting on my shoulder, as she pointed out a plethora of period features. She told me about the different original parts, pointing out where the cooking and storage floors would have been. She would lean in, and whisper in my ear, "See that nook right there? Well..." and she would begin and tell me the history of it. Walking into the panelled front room, her hand easily slipped around my shoulders again, as she pointed out more of the paintings and drawings that adorned the walls. I found myself, somewhat unexpectedly, leaning into her, as I listened to her recount the history of the building. I noticed some photos prominently displayed and walked over to pick one up.

"Husband and son, I assume?" I asked, quizzically.

"Yes, Chloe. They're quite handsome, eh?" she smiled, as I put the frame down. "Mark is my husband...Jonathon, my darling son," she sighed. I smiled at her tender word. Darling.

"Your son's very good-looking. I can see you in him."

"Are you getting ideas, Chloe?" she chuckled.

"Luckily, no. First of all, I much prefer his mother. Second...I'm not really into men. I...I have more, uh, experience with women...although not that much," I blushed.

Arabella came to me, and we embraced, her soft, delightful peck on my lips. She picked up the photo and looked at it somewhat wistfully. I felt sad for her.

My feet felt like jelly, as we walked back to the dining room. I sat down and began to make notes, but my hands wouldn't work. I tried to type, misspelling every other word. My head was frazzled with this woman. I just couldn't think straight! I spent twenty minutes or so, trying to write some notes down.

"Ready to see some more?" she asked, and I nodded my head excitedly, 'yes.'

We walked down this hallway, and she came to an old door. She smiled at me, opened it, and walked in. Inside were several saddles, high-riding boots, a glorious selection of riding crops, blankets, riding harnesses and safety hats. The room had the heady, almost erotic, smell of leather.

"You...you ride?" I exclaimed, surprised for some reason.

"I try to every day," she gushed. "I...I love it," she said, her hand caressing the tight, brown leather of a saddle. "I feel so...free when I'm riding Bellamy. I've had him for six years now. We know each other so well," she smiled.

"I can see where you get your, uh, suppleness from," I chuckled.

"And so much more, Chloe," she said, cryptically.

I walked to her and watched her stroking the saddle. As I had never ridden much, I was surprised at the shape of the saddle. My fingers slowly rubbed a little, proud convex shape, running down the middle of the saddle, but more pronounced near the front of the saddle. I didn't remember mine having that. Arabella saw my puzzled look, and placed her hand on mine, moving my hand up and down the almost supple ridge.

"I had this saddle especially made for me," she almost blushed. "You see this ridge here?" she asked. "Well, I've had more sex with my saddle than my husband these last six years. I love riding and the smell of my horse. It's almost feral for me. Bellamy is almost an extension of me when I'm out there. There's nothing more erotic than an orgasm when you're going full pelt," she said, her voice calm and even. "Do I...shock you, Chloe?" she asked, her eyes blazing now.

"No," I answered. "I just wish I was Bellamy," I murmured, startling her with my rude confession.

"I think we can arrange for me to ride you...later," she cooed, and pushed me against the wall. Her lips came to mine, my loud moans filling her mouth.

"And if you're not good, I may have to use one of my crops on you, hmm?" she smiled, and devoured me again. Just as quickly as she attacked me, she pulled away. She walked, her ass moving back and forth, to the wall where her riding crops hung. She chose one and walked back to me. I was frozen in place. What the fuck is going on, I thought! She lifted the leather keeper to my nose. "Smell it, Chloe. Does it...smell nice?" she asked.

I inhaled the heady, strong scent; the combination of worn leather and the muskiness of horse certainly stirred something deep inside me. Arabella placed the end under my chin and lifted, my head arching back now.

"If I have to use this, Chloe...I'll be gentle, okay," she teased, and kissed me.

Fuckity, fuck! What have I got myself into, I thought.

"As long as you're gentle, Arabella," I said, for some unknown, deep-seated reason, and grabbed her head, almost violently kissing her this time. My anxious tongue delved into her, my hands scrunching up and pulling her hair.

What the fuck...What was I doing?

Looking me in the eyes, she brought the crop down between my legs, She brought the firm staff up, rubbing my covered pussy through my thin skirt. Arabella leaned in and kissed me, the shaft firmer, as she applied more pressure.

"Just be...gentle," I said again, and kissed her back.

"Would my...Chloe like to cum on my crop? Hmm?" she teased. Or was she?

"Anytime, Arabella. Anytime," I groaned too loud. "Just...remember, whatever you do to me...I do to you," I gushed, and sucked her lower lip into my mouth, then timidly bit it.

What the fuck...

As quickly as this interlude happened, she went back to being the perfect hostess, cheery and accommodating. She turned and replaced the riding crop back on its hook, and took my hand, gently squeezing it.

Arabella smirked, knowing the effect she was having on me. "Come with me, Chloe," she smiled, holding out her svelte hand to me.

"Darling," I said, using her word. Fuck! I was in trouble! "We...we still have plans to go over," I said, halfheartedly.

"You just have to see upstairs," she gushed, saying I could leave my empty tea cup anywhere, and ignoring my professional plea. Arabella had my still-shaking hand in hers, as we ascended the sturdy, oak staircase. She showed me into the four main bedrooms, all decorated exquisitely. Two were noticeably more, well, masculine than the others.

"Now. My room," she smiled, and we walked slowly up another set of stairs. She opened the door to what was the old drying-of-the-hops part of the house, a round room with the ceiling tapering to a point. It was magnificent. A huge, sumptuously made-up bed commanded the room, the furniture bespoke to fit the curvature of the space. We stood at the end of the imposing, yet seductively well-thought-out bed.

"Isn't it gorgeous, Chloe," she whispered again, my body shivering at her honeyed tone. "I chose everything in here. Do you...like it?" she asked, her hand playing with my hair, her fingers wrapped in my locks.

This was getting dangerous...and complicated. I'm supposed to be the damn professional here...but something baser was coursing through my body. I carefully extricated myself from her fingers, turned to her, smiled and virtually danced from her reach, spinning, my dress floating out, and walked around the room.

I picked up her perfume bottle, and lifted it to my nose, inhaling her scent. My eyes never left hers. I walked around, my fingers lightly dusting the tops of her chest of drawers, and touching the beautiful curtains. I pulled out a book or two from her shelf, obviously first editions of Austen and Tolstoy. I looked at yet another photo of her son, all tanned, brawny, extremely fit, shirtless and smiling. There wasn't one of her husband. She watched me, hawk-like, as I roamed around her room, picking up trinkets, running my fingers through the loose coverings and touching her exquisite furniture.

"I...I love it, Arabella. It's so...soft, and sensuous. One could easily get carried away with stronger, more, uh, masculine furniture in here, but...I love what you've done. It's...you," I smiled, and almost ran to her.

Arabella walked to me, cutting off any means of escape, and brought her fingers to my cheek. Oh fuck, I thought. Here we go. She leaned down, my heart beating so fast, and gently kissed my forehead.

"I'm so pleased you like it, Chloe. I don't bring everyone up here. This is my...sanctuary, if you will. I had to show this to...you," she sighed, our eyes searching the others. Fuck...she's going to. Fuck, I thought!

"You're quite the romantic, aren't you, Arabella?" I rasped, trying to keep a modicum of ease about me. "I get it. I had that impression already, but yes, this'll help me," I stammered.

"Thank you, Chloe," she smiled. "And yes...I am. That's what I want outside, right? In my space. You can do that for me...Chloe?" she said, my heart aching for her now. I went to her, my hands outstretched, and we touched like lovers, or prospective lovers, I thought. It would have been so easy to just lift my head, lean up, wrap my hand around her beautiful head and pull her lips to mine.

But she made the gesture for me, as she leaned down, a simple, romantic, heartfelt, almost chaste kiss, on my trembling lips. Her touch was simple, but it sealed our desire for each other. No words were needed. We both knew we were linked now. It was only a matter of when, not if.

"C'mon," she quietly said. "Let's see your design, again, Chloe," her hand ever-so-gently swatting my bum. I turned and looked at her inviting bed, and almost lost all my reserve.

As if she had read my mind, she leaned down, planting another of the softest kisses ever to grace my lips on me, and she smiled, whispering, "C'mon. There's always time later, okay?"

Fuck propriety, I thought, but came to my senses too quickly. Hand in hand, we headed down the stairs, my head swimming with all the possibilities.

I was lost in this fabulous house, but she knew the way easily. We made it to the kitchen, and she pulled out a chair for me, but I stood, arranged my notes and plans and woke the computer up.

"And then?" she asked, her eyebrows wonderfully lifted up.

"Then we'll go upstairs and go to your room, 'kay? But not until then!" I giggled. "Your husband or son...won't be home, will they," I asked, hoping we would have time to explore.

She laughed, and said, "No, Chloe. It's just...us. He's in Tokyo and my son is in Durham. It's just...us," she said, and we kissed yet again. "And you? Anyone you need to rush home to Richmond to see?"

Wow. She remembered I lived in Richmond!

"No...not in Richmond. My...my girlfriend is up in Scotland caring for her dad. He fell and broke his arm and hip a while back, so she's up there caring for him. I go up every weekend to see her...and help out. This weekend I'm home, spoiling my two sisters. They get a little pouty when I'm not around," I laughed.

"You...you have a girlfriend?" she asked, though not too surprised.

"Yes. Maisie. We've been together for a few years now. She's lovely. You'd like her. She works at Healy and Jacobs, too. She just finished her PhD and then her dad had this accident, but she should be back here in a few months," I explained.

"So...does that mean that you and I...shouldn't...?" she asked.

"No...No, it's fine, Arabella," I said, and explained our unusual agreement to her. "She'd be happy for me, all right? No problems, 'kay?" I said. "We have decided that as soon as she comes back to Richmond, and we are together again, we'll be monogamous again. Until then, we have given each other this time to explore and experience. Well, more me than her," I chuckled.

"As long as you're sure, all right? For as long this lasts, okay?" she said, and devoured me.

I slipped from her grasp and told her this was work time now. Her lovely faux pout melted me, my panties dampening with every moment that passed, but I had to get back to business.

We went over my plans, me making more notes in the margins, and then writing more detailed notes in my diary. Arabella's hand was on my thigh, gently stroking me. She was staring at me more than the plans. I felt her fingers slyly playing with the hem of my dress, the edge moving up my thighs with every slow move. Her warm fingers touched my bare skin, and I thought I would cream myself.

"Arabella!" I mockingly admonished her. "Behave or else..." I giggled.

"Or else...what, Chloe? Hmm? Tell me...darling," her voice tender, soft and teasing.

I slipped my hand under my dress, pushing her hand away. I slid a finger into my wet panties and wiped through my labia. I pulled the glistening digits out and looked at her.

"Or you don't get...this," I smirked, and wiped her lips with my scent.

"Ohhh, my...my goodn—" she stammered, surprised at my boldness.

She grabbed my hand and sexily brought it to her mouth, our eyes never leaving each other, as she opened her beautifully shaped mouth, and sucked the viscous wetness from my fingers.

"You're going to be trouble, aren't you?" I smiled, revelling in her tongue on my fingers.

"So much, Chloe," she laughed, and continued to lick.

She wrapped her arm around my head, our lips so close and she sighed, "I want to see you naked, Chloe. Right...now," and kissed me.

Screw the plans, I thought. I'll put in the extra time later.

"Take me to your...bed, Arabella," intentionally slurring her name so it sounded, hopefully, provocative.

"I'll be right with you," she said, and rushed off...somewhere. Arabella returned moments later, something half-hidden behind her back.

We rushed up the old staircase, both of us giggling like teenagers about to get laid for the first time. I noticed the riding crop in her hand. I swatted her delightful ass, the two globes swaying to and fro, as we ran up the solid stairs. She stopped about halfway up, my face almost planted in her covered bum. She turned around and began to slowly lift her dress. She placed the crop under my jaw again and lifted my head.

"Touch me, Chloe. Just...touch me...quickly," she moaned.

I fell to my knees, both hands on her legs, as I slowly moved up and under her dress, feeling every sinew of her shapely limbs and thighs. I couldn't breathe, not wanting this moment to end. I could feel the end of her crop on my back, slowly moving up and down. I groaned almost silently, as my pussy melted. I could feel, and virtually smell her excitement, as my hands drifted up her perfectly toned legs. Just as I reached the edges of her panties, she turned, giggled, and ran up the stairs. I was flummoxed, but regained my senses and ran behind her, laughing at her teasing display.

By the time I made it to her room, she was standing there, waiting, staff in hand.

"Close the door, Chloe," and I did. "Stand there. Just like...that," she whispered, her hands running over her body, as if she was preparing herself. I saw her throw the crop on the bed and then she walked the few steps to me, and stood there, staring into me. I kept my hands at my sides, waiting for whatever she wanted. Her hands cupped my head, gently holding me, and we kissed. I leaned my head back, baring my throat to her again. Her fingers grazed my throat, her touch unbearably soft. They slowly moved 'til I felt them on my ear, my body trembling with all my built-up desires. Again, I leaned my head into her hand, giving myself to her. She rubbed my little lobes between two gentle fingers, my hands around her waist, moving up to her coveted breasts. I could feel my chest rising and falling with every delicate touch, wanting only for her to take me, make me hers.

Arabella's fingers came to my tiny buttons, undoing each with care and affection. My legs were growing weaker with every sensitive touch, as she slowly opened my garment, and a little, beautiful gasp escaped her mouth.

"I...I simply adore your breasts, Chloe. They're so...so small, so...delicate and...perfect," she moaned, subtly running the backs of her hands over them. I groaned and spread my legs. She leaned down, and almost reverently, kissed each covered mound.

"Hmmm," I smirked. "You really know how to charm a girl, Arabella."

"No...no please, Chloe. That's a compliment. God, you're so...irresistible," she gushed. "I was so struck with you...and even more so now," she sighed, her fingers still stroking me.