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“You ready for my cock?”
“Yeah, I’m ready for C squared,” she replies. She’s a little brat, but it’s funny.
I make quick work with the foil of the condom, rolling it on me, and lining my cock to her cunt. I push in slowly, and she grips the back of the couch. “You’re so fucking tight, and you know how to clench around my cock, Rosso.”
“Because it’s you, Dom. It’s special with you.”
My hands hold onto her hips, and I begin to pump inside of her, hard, and with each thrust, I’m deeper. I can’t get enough of her.
I kiss her back, my thrusts coming faster. Part of me wants to be inside her all night, but fuck, I want my cock to make her orgasm. It’s an ego booster.
“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, Sandra.”
“Oh, fuck, Dom. Can I come? I need to come!”
She’s asking for permission? Fucking perfect.
“Yes, come, Rosso, come all over my dick.”
She lets out a series of whimpering moans, and with the thought of her coming on my cock, my own release follows. She may just be my forever.
She’s sittingin my kitchen a little after nine in the morning, looking like perfection in my space. Her hair is wild, and her body is relaxed, both a product of last night and how I took her not once, or twice, but three times.
After the couch sex, I woke her up at three a.m., tied her to my bedposts, and fucked her again. It was sweeter, but it was still the two of us together, and I’ll never get enough of her.
She’s eating my breakfast, and I begin to ask her many questions. First, what makes her so fucking perfect? I love her response.
“I can cook. It’s one of the many things making me perfect,” she croons, her red ringlets framing her freckled face and green eyes.
I place her coffee in front of her at the island that separates the kitchen from the living space. She’s staring through the windows, looking out to the busy Saturday morning in the city.
“You’re telling me you have no faults, huh?” I ask. She pulls her coffee closer, adding a lot of half and half, and I join her,setting my own cup down. “So, drinking your coffee with that much cream isn’t a flaw?”
“What can I say, I like a little coffee with my cream.”
She pours more cream into her coffee than I’ve ever witnessed. “Maybe your only flaw will be a heart attack from that much cream.”
She leans back, sitting like perfection in my work tee, sans bra, and I take all of her in, from the wavy red hair that falls past her tits to the ivory skin I held close to my body most of the night. Her cheekbones are high, with her slender face showcasing her green eyes. Freckles are scattered around her cheeks and nose, and her lips are ruby red, without any makeup, exactly like her ruby locks.
“I run three miles every day. I think I’ll be okay. And I don’t use sugar, or eat a lot of sweets, except cookies occasionally.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Cookies, you say?” I ask, and she gives me a slight nod of her head. “And because we’ve done very little talking, tell me what is it that you do for a living?” There’s this need to learn everything about her, starting right now.
“Oh, shit. That’s right. You don’t know what I do. You’ve fucked my brains out but...” She sits up, closer to the table, like she’s about to freak out.
I reach over and steady her hand with mine. “It’s okay, baby. We have time to find all this out. So, you gonna tell me what you do?” I let my smile come out naturally, hopefully to calm her, and I think I have when she matches mine with her own gorgeous smile.
“I work in Public Relations, for a gaming company.”
“You game?” She looks like the farthest thing from a gamer I’ve ever met.
This makes her let loose with a high-pitched chuckle. “Hardly.” She takes a sip of her coffee and sets it back down onthe table. “I work with a bunch of big kids who need a babysitter, basically. They’re impulsive, and I clean up their messes. They don’t like me much, because I tell them on a daily basis how moronic they are. But they do love me, if that makes sense? I’m their momager, inside the office, and they’re geniuses. They craft games I’m not great at, but others certainly are. They all came from money, but they’re making their own millions, becoming overnight sensations. They say stuff, with no regard of how it’ll impact their company. And so I come in and tell them how to clean up their own fucking messes, most of the time.”
She doesn’t come across as a woman who takes shit from anyone.
“Cleaning up their messes is a full-time job?” I ask.
She lets out a snort. “Showing them how to clean up their own messes can be a full-time job at times. But primarily, I’ve worked to cultivate relations with clients too. My main job has been to secure working friendships. I’d been working for Matthias’s grandpa when the kid and his friends came to old man Hennessy with this brilliant idea. As a favor to his gramps, I took their job offer. I guess it helps that I’ve known Matthias his whole life, so when I have to deliver the news that he’s being an idiot, I don’t have to worry about him firing me, though he threatens to often, as a joke. Plus, Matthias’s gramps would hire me back in a heartbeat.” She pauses a second as she sips her coffee. “I assume you can guess who I work for.”
