Page 7 of A London Little's Bunny

She shivered. That sounded nice. “Okay, yes, I’d be okay with that. And yes to more kissing, and maybe groping—but of a sensual nature.” That sounded wrong. “I mean…”

“I think I know what you mean,” said Ben. “I’d love that. And while the idea of you sucking my dick is so fucking hot, I’m going to suggest leaving my trousers on.”

“This time?”

“There’ll be another time?” He looked hopeful.

Essie smiled shyly. “Unless this evening is a complete disaster, I think there’ll be another time. And probably another after that.”

Ben’s face lit up and she was taken aback by the joy she saw there. “That would be…I mean…yes. I would love that.”

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Standard traffic lights as safewords? And, um, my dick. Dick, cock, penis…all good. Not strap on.”

“Yes to traffic lights, and yes to all the ways I can refer to your cock.” Their eyes met and it felt as if the very air between them sizzled.

And then the timer went off, breaking the tension. Essie laughed awkwardly and went to get up.

“That’s okay, babygirl,” said Ben. “You sit there; I’ve got this.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she replied, and was rewarded with a flash of pure heat in his eyes.

He dished up the food, and brought the two plates over to the table, but placed hers next to his, instead of in front of her. “Have you something you’d like to blindfolded with?”

Essie looked around, casting her eyes about for something that they could use, when they landed on his tie. Ben followed her eyes and grinned. “Tie it is, babygirl.”

As he pulled it from around his neck, she flushed at the flash of skin beneath his shirt collar. He was fully clothed and she was all flustered.

Carefully, he tied it around her eyes, tugging to make sure that it wasn’t too tight, but tight enough that it wouldn’t fall down.

“How’s that?”

“Perfect thank you, Daddy,” she said, and she found her voice slipping into that airier cadence that her Little space sat in.

He laughed gruffly, and the rumble of it did funny things to her.

“Open up then, babygirl, open wide for Daddy.”

He’d forked a load of the mac and cheese to start, creamy, indulgent, with the flavour of lobster running through the mouthful. Essie made a noise that sounded more sinful that she could have expected.

Next was a bite of tenderstem broccoli, its leaves zinging with the lemon and pepper they’d added.

It was wholly consuming. Essie hadn’t expected that. The sensation of focusing everything on one mouthful of food. Letting the taste and smell waft across her senses, tease her with the not knowing what she could expect next.

And even when she’d had all the different combinations she could imagine—lobster and broccoli; broccoli and cheese; pasta and the broccoli dressing—it still felt luxurious, being fed by hand.

“That’s it, babygirl,” Ben whispered to her. “Eat up for me. Enjoy every bite.”

When she’d finished her portion, he went to take her blindfold off, but she held him off with one hand, and waited, in the dark, whilst he finally ate his food.

She felt so highly attuned to him, so his senses, and when he opened the box with the profiteroles in, Essie knew what she wanted.

“Not here,” she whispered, and taking him by the end, she carefully made her way to her bedroom, allowing him to help her avoid chairs and doorframes.

“Are you sure, babygirl?” he asked, and she nodded her acquiescence.

“Yes please, Daddy.”

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