Page 46 of Britain

I follow Britain to our seats and can barely keep up with her. When Jeremiah offered me his two club seats at Wrigley for a Cubs home game, I said yes immediately. I’d stopped by the shop and when I held them up in front of Britain she screamed, jumped up and down, and then ran around me in circles. I couldn’t stop laughing, and then caught her when she launched herself at me.

We decided to make it an overnight trip, and I got us a suite at The Hotel at Midtown. Britain stood at the window with a look of wonder on her face, enjoying a beautiful view of the city. We walked here from the hotel since it’s a gorgeous day.

When she came out of the bathroom after changing, I could only shake my head. She had her blonde hair in a loose braid with a Cubs trucker hat on her head. She wore a Kris Bryant jersey open, with a blue Cubs tank top underneath. The pièce de résistance was the painted C on her cheek.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m wearing a Cubs t-shirt and a hat, but she just looks so fucking cute I can hardly stand it. While we make our way to our seats, it isn’t lost on me that guys are checking her out, but she’s completely oblivious. I’ve never in all my life met someone like her. I’ve never met someone that felt like they were made just for me before—at least not until I met her.

She’s become so important to me, so vital. It freaks me the fuck out, but at the same time it doesn’t. Since the night I used the flogger on her, she’s been trying to get me to go further with her, but I’ve been hesitant to go all the way. God, I sound like a high schooler or something. I want to make love to her, I do, but considering her past, I’ve taken things extremely slow.

My attention goes back to her as Britain waves her arms in a “come here” motion. She stops at the end of our row and bounces up and down waiting for me.

Our seats are right on the end, thankfully, and as soon as we sit, Britain wraps her arms around me. “This is amazing. Thank you for bringing me.”

I kiss her lips quickly before I grab us a couple of beers from the beer man.

As she watches the game, I can’t help but watch her. She’s been cheering, yelling, and getting everyone in our section to chant together. I was worried at first thinking that someone was going to be an asshole to her for her diehard enthusiasm, but we’re lucky and have a pretty fun group by us.

After the game is over, we head to Slugger’s for drinks and food. When we finish eating, we hit the batting cages, and I quickly learn that my girl is a fucking athlete. She hits the ball every time and while she’s up to bat, I don’t miss the assholes gawking at her. We take turns batting and then I challenge her to a skee ball match. I beat her, but barely.

As we walk back to the hotel hand in hand, it hits me that I’ve never had this much fun with a woman before, or at least when it didn’t involve sex. I’m sure when the time is right for us that the sex will be phenomenal.

It’s only three in the afternoon, so we decide to lie down and take a nap when we get back to our room. Britain pulls her hat off, tossing it on the chair in the corner. She then disappears into the bathroom and then comes out a few minutes later without the paint on her cheek. In no time at all, Britain is passed out, snoring softly.

I don’t sleep even though she’s out and I’m beat. Instead I lie next to her and watch her. Is it creepy? Maybe, but I don’t give a fuck. I never expected this girl, this woman, to grab onto my heart the way she has. As I stare at her, it’s still hard to believe what happened to her—it makes me angry on her behalf.

In sleep she looks a lot younger than she is. Her skin is flawless, and you’d never guess that a few weeks ago she’d had her nose broken. I wrap my hand around hers that’s tucked under her chin, lace our fingers, and feel my eyes get heavy.

***

I button up my white dress shirt before tucking it into my pants. I slip on my black leather belt, and after fastening it I slip into my black loafers. While I get dressed, I hear Britain move around in the bathroom. Tonight we’re having dinner at III Forks in Lakeshore East. It’s one of my favorite places to go when I’m in Chicago.

I grab my cologne out of my Dopp kit and slap a little on my face when the bathroom door opens. “Wow.” It’s all I can say because she’s struck me speechless.

Britain stands in the doorway looking nervous. She’s wearing pants with legs so wide it looks like a skirt. They sit low on her hips, and I see a sliver of skin peeking out of the bottom of the emerald green, tight v-neck shirt with capped sleeves. It shows just enough cleavage, and she’s got a rose gold necklace that rests at the base of her throat.

Her hair is in a fishtail braid that hangs over one dainty shoulder of hers. She’s makeup free except for some clear shiny gloss on her lips. On her feet are her black high-heeled sandals, and her toes are painted pink.

I walk toward her, feeling like a lion stalking his prey. Her pearly whites bite into her lower lip as she watches me come toward her. I stop right in front of her, grabbing her hands. I stroke over the skin on the back of her hand. “You’re fucking stunning.”

Britain’s cheeks turn a dusky shade of pink. “Thank you.”

I reach out to touch her necklace and smile when goosebumps pop up all over her skin. I don’t miss the evidence that her nipples are hard. Of course my dick perks up immediately. “Are you ready to go to dinner?”

She nods. “I’m starving.” Her stomach begins growling, loudly.

“Well, let’s get my girl some food. Our reservation’s for seven, so we have plenty of time to get there.” I pull out my phone and order us an Uber.

I stick our room key in my wallet and stick it in my back pocket. We head downstairs, waiting for our car.

We reach the restaurant, and Britain trips getting out of the car. I help right her, and with my arm around her waist, I lead us inside.

***

“Oh my gosh, I can’t eat another bite,” Britain says with a huge smile on her face. I nod in agreement as I drink the last of my wine.

We got crab cakes, filets, and ordered a slice of their chocolate ganache cake to take back to the hotel. While we ate, our silence was companionable, but I couldn’t help laughing while she moaned around each bite of food. She drank a glass of red wine, but declined a second. I pay the check and then pull her chair out, taking her hand in mine. Britain grabs the box with our cake and we head outside.

Our Uber is ten minutes away and we stand off to the side. She smiles up at me. “Thank you for dinner. I think that’s the best meal I’ve ever eaten.”

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