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“So where are we going?”
“Well, if you were hungry, I was going to feed you, but since you’re not, I’d like to take you to my work, just show you around then I think I’ll take you back home. I know you said you have some more work to do…”
We’re at my truck. I open the door, and she looks up at me, confused.
“Home?”
“Yeah. My place. Home.” The way I say it hopefully gives her the idea I want her to think of it as her home too.
“Well, yes, I have a few work things to do. I brought my laptop though. I can work from anywhere with Wi-Fi.”
I love the smile that curves her full lips, and there’s a pulsing ache when I think of the way her mouth would feel wrapped around my cock.
“Then we’re good. Because not getting your work done could be grounds for punishment.”
Her eyes reflect the surprise I feel when I hear myself say that.
There’s something about this girl. She’s changing me deep down at a molecular level. I want to protect her, nurture her, care for her in a nearly paternal way, but also fuck her like the filthy, beautiful woman she is.
I think about the bar and building where I live. I’ve enjoyed renovating and living in that industrial sort of space downtown, but for the first time in my adult life, my mind drifts to the house where I grew up.
It’s an old farm that’s been in my family for three generations. My mom loved horses, and I grew up around them, but once I got the job on the force, I needed to live in the city. So, I bought a house, then sold it when the bar opportunity came up. It’s not that the money was the issue, I could have invested without selling but managing more places didn’t appeal to me.
But I still own the farm. I head out there about once every two weeks just to be sure the place hasn’t burned down, or someone’s decided it’s been empty long enough they are going to move in. Last night and this morning, I made some arrangements for some work to start. Something just told me it was time the old neglected beauty needed to come back to life.
When I closed my eyes for a few minutes last night in between texts with Jessie, it was the farm I saw. It was bright and fresh again. A garden overflowed out back, and the front beds and porch of the house were full of pink and purple flowers.
Dogs ran in the yard. There were horses out in the back pastures running in the spring wind.
And, Jessie was there on the porch. Wearing an apron and balancing a baby on her hip.
“Then that’s the plan. I want to show you a bit of my world, introduce you to some of my friends and co-workers, then back home and you can work if you need to and maybe by then, you’ll be hungry, and I’ll cook for you.”
“You can cook too? Wow.”
I give her an assist up into the truck. As the fabric of her dress raises, I see the flash of soft pink panties between her legs and the things I want to do to her would get us both arrested.
“I’m just me. And I hope like hell that works for you. If not,” I pause, wondering for a moment what I would do if she pushed me away. “Never mind. I’m going to do everything in my power to be sure it works for you.”
I get her secured in the seat and walk around and get in behind the wheel, starting up the truck.
She turns to look at me, and for a moment I wonder if I’m going too fast, but in the same instant, there’s a voice inside my head that smacks down any doubts.
“So, you like being a detective? You say you’re good at it as well.”
“I think so.” I pull out onto the street, reaching one hand over to rest it on her knee. “I’m up for Head Detective. Should know next week something solid. So, I guess I’m okay at what I do.” I smile and see her looking back with those sea-blue eyes, and my cock is ready to tear through my jeans to get to her. “And, so, you are good at what you do as well? You work at the bakery and write.”
“Yes. I guess I am. I pay my bills. That’s more than a lot of writers can do I suppose. I have a good group of loyal readers. It still surprises me every day that people want to read what I write.”
“I’m sure you are amazing. I want to read something you wrote. I want you to read it to me.”
