His Little Bird

Double Dinner Date

Birdie's POV

Ethan's hand is up my dress, tightly grasping the top of my thigh as he drives. I would be horrified if he was driving all of us, but my parents decided to take their own car which honestly is probably better for everyone.

I curl my toes in my heels, trying to find my self resolve.

His hand is so damn close to my sex. His possessive grip doesn't help me either. Dear Lord, I want him to throw me down and take me.

His thumb suddenly caresses my inner thigh and I loose it. I clamp my legs together, trapping his hand, so he can't continue.

He glances over at me with a furrowed brow. "Open your legs again, or I swear I will take you over my lap the second I find a parking spot," he says sternly and my eyes go wide.

He's never threatened to directly punish me before, it's always been conditional on if I was his or if I was already collared.

"If you do not want me touching you, tell me no," he demands. He wasn't taking away my choice, he was simply telling me how I was allowed to covey it.

I open my legs again for him, allowing him to go back to caressing my thigh. "I'm sorry, Sir."

He replies with another squeeze of my thigh. "Spread your legs wider," he commands, not looking over at me. I hesitate, so he continues to explain, "You will not close your thighs to me, open them wide, so you remember."

I blush, timidly obeying.

"If you do not want my touch, tell me no. Closing your legs is a lack of restraint to new stimulus," he explains.

"Yes, Sir," I whisper softly.

His caressing continues, every so often he squeezes my thigh, making my legs quiver with the desire to close.

His thing with me closing my legs is all about control. He wants me to learn to control myself, the arousal and need he makes.

"You've been a very good girl today," he tells me out of nowhere.

He had said that earlier on the phone, but I blush as if it was the first compliment he's given me... technically it is though... he never tells me if I look pretty.

I reach up and subconsciously touch my hair. Perhaps he likes blondes?

He removes his hand from my thigh, "I'm sorry I don't know how to convey my pleasure to you. I'm used to providing sexual rewards and as that is not a part of our relationship, I really just end up frustrating you." Well at least he understands.

"I love to hear approval from you though. If I've done good... or if I look nice..." Maybe it's shallow, but my father and brother compliment their submissives all the time and tell them how beautiful or sexy they are.

"Or if you look nice?" I shift in discomfort, hoping he wouldn't comment on that part. I wanted him to acknowledge if he thought I was pretty, but I didn't want us to go into an in depth conversation about my suggestion.

I shrug. What else does he want me to say?

Does he really want me to have to ask him if I'm pretty?

"Is this because I never comment on your appearance?" Appearance, not beauty according to him. Maybe I don't have as much of a pretty face as I thought.

When I don't respond, he sighs. "I figured you'd get tired of always being told how beautiful you were. I wasn't aware you needed that reassurance."

My face goes red. His words make me feel mocked.

"I wasn't looking for assurance. I just wanted to know if you were attracted to me." My words come out harsher than I mean.