And I wasn’t complaining. He was so damn confident he’d have me orgasming over and over, and that was a turn-on in itself.
The sounds of the fair filtered toward us. Thumping music, screams of delight, and the chug of generators.
We made our way through the crowds and past hot-dog and burger stalls, a coconut shy, hook-a-duck, and a ghost train that had a long queue of people waiting to be frightened in the dark.
“What do you want to ride?” he asked.
“Is that a trick question, Daddy?”
He chuckled. “No, take your pick. The ghost train? Dodgems? Swing?”
I glanced to my right. A brightly lit swing ride circled people high, the speed sending the swings outward, much to their delight. “The swing is good.”
“Come on then.” He led me to the ticket booth. “One please.” He handed over a few pounds.
“You’re not coming on?” I frowned.
“No, you’re a brave girl, you can do it, I’ll watch from here.”
“Okay. I’ll wave.”
“You do that.”
The ride came to a halt, and when the swings were vacated, I walked in with the next set of riders and took a swing on the outside of the circle.
Once fastened in, I searched Mitch out.
He was standing in the back shadows of a candy floss stand, hands shoved in his pockets and his expression dark.
Is this how his face was when he was having fun? Like he was heading to a funeral.
I smiled and waved, kicked my legs in eager anticipation, and got a curt nod in return.
The ride started. Air rushed over my skin, my stomach flipped, and I clutched the roped handles at my sides. Within seconds we were going at speed, rising, my swing flying out into the dusky evening. I laughed and flicked my head, feeling my hair, ribbons and all, flying out behind me.
Each time I passed him I smiled or waved or kicked my legs. He watched for a minute, then took out his phone, appeared to send a text then, slipped it away again.
I scowled, wanting his attention. “Hey!”
He looked up, his eyebrows low, and gave me one of his devastatingly sexy half-smiles.
That would do.
The ride finally came to an end, and I hopped off the swing and skipped up to him. “That was fun.”
“Seemed it.” He nipped my chin and brought his lips to mine.
“Can I have some candy floss?” I asked. I had to ask. I had no way of paying.
“Please.”
“Can I have some candy floss,please?” I fluttered my eyelashes.
“Little minx.” He put his arm around me, and we joined the queue for candy floss.
Soon I had a huge pink puff of spun sugar balanced on a skinny stick. I took a bite, enjoying the fizzing sweetness, then tore a chunk off and popped it in his mouth. “You like it?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t taste as good as you, though.” He slid his hand to my ass and over my skirt gave it a good grope.
