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"Which ones do you have?" I asked, knowing each of my plates had a different, silly saying on them.
"'According to serving sizes, I am a family of four,' and this one has two shadow pigs fucking and says 'makin' bacon.'"
They were the tamer of my plates.
"Alright, put them here. And pour me wine," I demanded, waving beside the fridge where I kept a row of bottles, waiting to have their rich goodness devoured.
"Ah..." Sugar said, making me turn to look at him holding up a bottle of red a little helplessly.
"What?"
"I've never opened a bottle of wine before."
"No way," I said, smiling because I was sure he was shitting me. "You're not serious."
"Hand to god," he said, shaking his head. "Bikers aren't known for their discerning palates. All beer and Jack."
"Alright. Well, you take the corkscrew, wind it into the center of the cork, and then pull it out."
"Or... you could just do it."
"Nope. I gotta see this," I said, waiting for him to finally cave and do it. "There you go. Exciting, right? I think losing my wine-virginity was more exciting than losing my actual virginity," I admitted, taking the plates over toward the living room. "So what about you?" I asked as we sat down.
"What about me?"
"How'd you lose your virginity?" God, why was I even asking?
"I was fifteen. A clubwhore."
"Makes sense."
He reached for his fork and started eating as I reached for the remote, having a weird thing about not liking to listen to other people chew. At least when there wasn't much of a conversation being carried out, or other noises to muffle it.
"No." That was all, just no. As soon as I turned on a channel.
"Why not?" I asked, looking at the screen, a bit surprised. I had yet to find someone - my sister who was allergic to gore aside - who didn't enjoy some Thrones.
"It's a fuckin' soap opera with swords. Hard pass."
"But there are endless tits and all the fucking!" I declared, not quite ready to accept his refusal.
"Got tits right here," he said, waving at me. "And I'd much rather participate in fuckin' than watch it on TV. Give me that," he added, waving at the remote.
"I think not. It's my apartment. I am the remote captain."
"You've just been relieved of duty," he told me, making a 'give me' hand at me.
"On what grounds?"
"Your shitty taste in TV. Give me the remote," he tried again, putting down his fork, clearly in this for the long haul.
"Not a chance, buddy."
"Buddy?" he asked, eyes twinkling in a way I knew meant I was totally, totally going to lose.
But me, I never went down without a fight.
He lunged.
I flew backward.
In a second, he was on top of me, an arm pinning mine on the arm of the couch above my head. But his other arm was holding him up.
"How you gonna get it now, huh, slick?"
His gaze moved down to my face.
And I knew right then he wasn't above playing dirty.
Because the next thing I knew, his hips were shifting, his cock pressing me right between my legs, making my hips rise up to demand more contact.
"Fuck," I hissed as his head lowered, lips attacking my neck. "Your food is getting cold," I sighed as he his teeth nipped my earlobe.
"Fuck the food," he growled, using his hand to yank my wrists up and around his neck as he planted his knees, so he didn't have to brace with his arm, which he wrapped around my waist and used to pull me onto his lap. "Told you you'd be riding me tonight," he told me as his hands went to the hem of my shirt, slowly dragging it up my belly, over my breasts, then up my arms. I didn't realize until it was too late, when I felt it snatched from my hands, that he was still playing dirty. "I believe this is mine. But it can wait until later," he told me as he tucked it to the side then reached behind me to unclasp my bra.
"You bastard," I told him, but the moan that ended on when he rolled my hardened nipple completely undermined the words.
He leaned forward, sealing his lips over my nipple until I was arching into him.
"Up," he demanded, whacking my ass.
And when a man growled Up at you in that sexy tone of voice, you got your ass up.
As soon as my feet hit the ground, his hands moved to my hips, snagging my pants and panties, then slowly dragging them downward.
"I'm famished," he said, making my body stiffen. Was he seriously going to eat now that I was freaking naked? "Come on," he said, reaching up to snag me behind the knee, pulling. "No, not your knees. Your feet," he explained. "I need a little snack before my meal," he told me, lips curved up wickedly as I finally realized his intention.
