“What’s with the bag?”

“You know exactly why I brought a bag.”

“I think we need to talk about some shit. This,” she jabbed a finger at me, then at herself, “is not happening.”

As soon as she moved her hand away, I caught her finger and held her wrist tightly in my hand.

“Let me go,” she protested, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Fuck, no.”

“I’ll scream.”

“I’m happy to role-play,” I returned and shrugged.

“I’m not fucking kidding. Let my hand go.”

I yanked her toward me, her tits giving a bounce when she hit my chest. “Touch my cock, Katherine.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like you did today. Feel my cock and tell me you don’t want me inside you.”

Her eyes glittered with conflict, but desire won in the end. I saw it when she moved her hand of her own free will, and, instead of letting me go, she stroked the length through my jeans.

Her eyes closed, but her hand kept moving when she confessed, “I don’t want to fuck up the business.”

“If this doesn’t work and it becomes awkward, I’ll buy you out, you can buy me out, or I’ll just remain a silent partner and you can hire someone else to run it with you.”

“You seem to have thought of everything.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

I moved my lips against her neck while her hand remained on my shaft.

“You play dirty, Holst,” she whispered.

“I play real. But I’ll show you dirty after we have dinner. Right now, it’s all about you, Katherine.”

“There are about a thousand scenarios going through my head right now,” she murmured.

“Couch, no shorts, no panties, ass to the edge and spread.”

“No. No, no, no. I need to put the brakes on. You tricked me with your big cock, and I’ve seen it.”

“Don’t over think it.” I moved my hand to the top of her shorts and popped the button to push my hand inside, over her panties, and found them soaked. I pushed into the fabric and rubbed my middle finger between her folds and said quietly, “I require an appetizer. On the couch, no shorts, no panties, ass to the edge.”

I took my hand from her, the moan of protest all the coaxing I needed to keep pushing her to her limits. I followed and watched as she let the garments fall, one by one, exposing that beautiful treasure I’d hoped was waiting under her golden gown that day.

First, she moved to the edge and looked everywhere else but me—the coffee table, the television, my jeans—until I kneeled in front of her while I stared at her face and demanded, “Eyes, baby.” Hers flashed, darkened by her arousal, but never leaving mine. “Open for me.”

I placed my hands on each knee and journeyed with them as they spread before me: soft pink folds, neatly groomed light brown hair, and a glistening pussy ready to be devoured. I moved the tip of my tongue into the wet and lapped upward against her hardened clit, then softened the stroke to move gently around it. Her thighs quivered while I worked her, not hard, not soft, until I found the perfect pressure that made her moan, and when it did…

I thrust my hands under her ass and sucked her clit while she squirmed beneath me. Her hands went to my hair, pulling then pushing when I would not stop. She was about to come when I heard her beg, “Please…Holst.” And when she came, shaking and gripping my hair so hard I delighted in that pain, I flicked her clit with my tongue when she cried, “Stop!” And again, and again, until she moaned and pushed her pussy into my face, riding my mouth as she came a second time.

Panting, sated by two orgasms in less than five minutes, I watched her soft expression as I pulled the lips of her pussy between my own, lifted my eyes to her, and slowly took my head from between her legs.

“Now, I think you should eat something, Katherine,” I said with a satisfied smile. I loved to eat pussy, and if I had to choose between giving and receiving, I preferred to give or to fuck. And now that I’d had Katherine’s pussy in my mouth, the way she responded to me, the way she tasted, I was very much looking forward to doing it again.

And often.

“You’re an asshole,” she mumbled. “You manipulated me with your cock and then you made me come. Twice.”

“Yes. I can see how that’s a problem for you.”

She gave me the finger, but her hand flopped down onto the couch.

“I’ll get the food. You recover. And while we eat, I’ll tell you…everything.”

She took her time finding her clothing and joined me in the kitchen. I spoke to her while I took the delectable chicken from the oven, emitting my own groan as my mouth watered at the sight and scent. We moved together, an all too natural dance while she went one way and I went the other. Just like at the shop, we inherently seemed to understand the intention of the other.

When we were seated and she began to slice into a potato, I began my tale.

“My ex and I worked together. She was a vegetarian. I was weary of hearing her complaints that I ate meat…and the thing she hated more than anything…when I ate veal or lamb.”

“That explains the food orgasm you had that night.”

“Because of that, I gave up everything but chicken and fish. She drank, too much, and when she did, she was an ugly drunk. I don’t drink to get drunk…I need to stay…in control. We were living together, hadn’t made love in months because, when I touched her, she wanted that control.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you’re kinda bossy.”

“Not bossy. Perhaps a bit dominant. There’s a difference. And her need for control was not the same as mine.”

“Bummer you’re not a dom. That could be interesting.”

“Let me say now, Katherine, that when it comes to sex, your pleasure is my focus, and, in turn, my reward. My nature is to be dominant, but I require equality. I wish to be no one’s master.”

“Your ‘nature’ makes it sound like, if I do what you want, you’ll make sure I get a happy ending.” She grinned.

“Yes.” I returned her smile. “That’s one way to look at it. Anyway, my ex decided she no longer loved me and used the fact I had to fire her as an excuse to drink more.”

I looked at my plate, trying to decide if now was time to tell her everything, but something stopped me. If the relationship grew as I hoped it would, I’d tell her more when the time came.

“We did not part well. We sold the house and I put some of my share into Bear Claw. During that time, my father, an equally abusive drunk I hadn’t seen or spoken to since I was eight years old, died, and left a half a year’s lease on an apartment here in Laguna. When he passed, I finished the tattoo of an ankh on the back of my calf, Nico having done the first on my left leg, Frodo having done the second on my right. I mentioned my need for a fresh start and what I hoped to do. In the meantime, I gutted my father’s apartment and made it into a place I would be happy to walk into at the end of a long day. And so you know, I haven’t been with a woman since Chelle.”

“Why?” she asked without hesitation. “You’re hot.”

“Because I’m thirty-six, and, despite the rantings of your ex, I do not require thirty-year-old pussy to fill the void. I require strength of character, determination, independence…a woman who knows her own mind, who will allow me to give her the world, a woman with beautiful eyes, long legs, and a pussy that drips when I whisper in her ear.”

“Hurry up and eat,” she commanded and began to shovel food into her mouth.

“Is there a fire?” I asked.

“Yeah, in my pants.”

I chuckled as her phone began to ring on the kitchen counter. “It’s probably Tori checking in. We had a kind of…argument and haven’t really talked about it yet.”

“She was there today; she seemed fine,” I commented.

“She’s waiting for me to make the next move. Hang on…Hello?” she said into the phone. But the smile on her face vanished. “Dad…” She held her finger to her lips, asking that I remain silent as she put the phone on speaker.