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“Dang straight I will,” she says, her face stubborn. I should turn around and walk away, but this woman is challenging me in ways no one has ever done before, and I don’t think it’s possible to walk away.
I reluctantly swirl some spaghetti on my fork and take a bite. Why does this horrifies me so much? The food won’t taste any different if I put it on a plate. It just seems like such a crude way to eat.
“Delicious, isn’t it?” she says, now beaming at me. She’s devoured half of the spaghetti already. She reaches over for a box of calamari. She digs in with her fingers, dipping a piece in the sauce before popping it into her mouth. “This place is probably my favorite in town.”
“I like the food, but I’ve had better,” I tell her. She gives me a look of horror.
“No way.”
“I might have to take you to Venice to prove you wrong.” I’m shocked by my words. She laughs, not taking me seriously. The thing is, if she said let’s go, I’d get a jet and whisk her there right now. This woman is already making me do things so outside of my character, I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same after this week in Seaville.
“Venice is certainly on my bucket list, but I’m afraid if I go, I’ll never appreciate Italian food again,” she says. She opens the box of desserts. I got one of each item on the menu. She dives in, taking a bite of each thing. I’m getting past the shock and don’t hesitate to take bites after her. I even sort of like it.
I move over and grab the bottle of wine I brought. It’s a beautiful red blend with a hint of sweetness, a perfect addition to our impromptu meal. I pour it and hand hers over and she takes a big gulp. My nose still hurts, but it’s manageable. I’ll be sporting some bruises, but at least it’s no longer bleeding. Who knows what will come next with this woman?
We finish every last bit of the food. I should be surprised but I’m not. This woman eats like a linebacker, and it’s fascinating. Most women I’ve dated barely pick at their food. It drives me crazy. I’m not obsessed with food or anything, but I enjoy a good meal. It’s nice to eat with someone who appreciates it as much as I do.
“Well, I’m too full to move now,” she says as she takes her refilled wine glass and moves into her living room. She plops down on the couch and picks up the remote, clicking on the television. She hasn’t told me to leave, so I grab another bottle of wine, open it, grab my glass and the bottle, and follow her. I sit on the couch, close, but not quite touching.
“What are we watching?” I ask. She hesitates as if she was expecting me to leave. I’m not asking her for an invitation, just sitting here like it’s a foregone conclusion. That way it will be harder for her to make me go. She finally shrugs.
“I want to see the new Aquaman movie. It’s been out for a while and I haven’t watched it yet. I refuse to pay twenty dollars so I waited until I could rent it.” I internally groan. Superhero movies aren’t my idea of a fun time, but as long as I’m with her, anything will do.
“I haven’t seen it yet either,” I tell her, sitting back and making myself comfortable. She grabs a blanket hanging from the back of the couch and wraps up in it, tucking her legs beneath her. The movie begins.
We continue drinking wine as she sighs when freaking Aquaman does a shirtless scene. I find myself wanting to growl. I don’t like her lusting after another man, even if he is only on television. Hell, I bet they paint those abs on the man. Mine, on the other hand, are all too real. I’m more than willing to show her, and let her touch me all over to make sure I’m authentic.
The movie is long and pretty soon the wine’s gone. Sasha leans into me and I don’t make a sound or a move because I’m sure she’s not even aware she’s doing it. I want to grab her with everything I have, but I know she spooks easily. Instead, I lean back and wrap my arm around her. She snuggles a little closer. Heaven. If I were to describe the place above, I’d say this right here is it.
I’m content and growing sleepy. My life’s been chaos from the moment I stepped into this sleepy little town, but right now, it feels pretty damn perfect. I’m holding a beautiful woman, feeling a nice buzz from the wine, and don’t want to ever move from this spot. I close my eyes, letting myself rest for just a moment... and then the lights go out.
Chapter Eleven
Callan
I’m disoriented when I wake up just before dawn. It takes only a moment to realize where I am and what I’m doing. I’m at Sasha’s house and she’s on top of me on her couch. I’ve never slept over at a woman’s house before. I certainly haven’t spent an entire evening with a woman platonically. I’ve never actually had a date before at a person’s home. It’s too intimate.
Sasha shifts against me, and my rock-hard erection presses upward. I want this woman so much I’ll die if I don’t have her. I start kissing her neck, and she moans. She’s not fully awake, and we’re both fully clothed, but in her sleep with her defenses down, she must be as turned on as I am.
I run my tongue along her neck and grip her ass, pulling her down against me. I want her to wake up and feel how much I want her. I need her to want me just as much. I continue licking her neck and she starts squirming above me.
“Sasha, I’m going to carry you into your room and make love to you,” I tell her. She mumbles something. She’s waking up, and she’s not telling me no.
I sit up, part of me terrified she’s going to pull away when she becomes fully alert. If that’s the case, it won’t happen. I’ve never had to force a woman before, and I’m certainly not going to start now. I finally manage to get into a seated position, and I shift her, then stand from the couch with her in my arms.
It’s not a large house and her bedroom door is open, so I step inside and turn on the bedside lamp. It’s dim, but gives me just enough light to see her glorious body. Her eyes are open, looking at me. Damn, she might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She has such a natural beauty that makeup and surgery can’t produce.
I notice some lotion on her bedside table. Perfect. This time I guarantee she won’t stop me. I pull out a few condoms from my pocket and set them on the table, letting her see what I’m doing. Her eyes widen, but no protests escape her mouth.
I pull off my shirt and see raw appreciation in her eyes. I discard my pants, leaving my underwear on. “How about a nice massage?” I ask.
Her eyes are gleaming, and she gives me a slight nod. My heartbeat soars. This is going to happen. I reach down and undo her pants, slowly pulling them from her shapely legs, then take her shirt off. I leave her bra and panties on. I need to take this slow. I need to make her burn so badly she’s begging me to sink deep inside of her.
“Turn over,” I demand, my voice rough. She immediately complies. I sit on the bed, then undo the clasp of her bra, leaving her back bare. I grab the lotion, squeeze a nice amount into my hands, and rub them together to warm it. Straddling her thighs, my dick pulses with the need to eliminate the last bits of material between us and sink deep inside her. The wait will be well worth it, though.
I start at her shoulders, rubbing her silky skin as I shift my hips. She lets out a moan as I continue stroking her back in a firm rhythm, touching every beautiful inch of her smooth skin.
I lean forward and rub her shoulders, my dick touching the curve of her ass. My fingers squeeze a bit too tightly, but this makes her moan again. I lean forward a little more, my dick now nestled into the cleft of her lovely ass. It feels like heaven.
