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Georgia turned and pulled something out of the oven, slamming it down with the most adorable fuming nostrils. “He did! But then Leslie told her I’d done it anyway.”
“Sorry, baby,” I said with a small smirk. It wasn’t funny, but it was funny…you know?
I sighed. “Anyway, I think it’s possible she’s lost a few of hersugar daddies,as you call them, because she was crazy fucking busy today with the task of nailing down who she wants to be dating for Valentine’s Day. I swear, all damn day, she was on her phone, chatting with God knows who on TapNext.”
Georgia’s face crinkled in confusion. “It’s May.”
I shrugged. “I know.”
“So, why is she looking for Valentine’s Day dates in May?”
I stared at her for a minute until she bugged out her eyes and lifted her arms to her sides.
“Oh. Were you wanting a real answer to that question? Because I don’t have a fucking clue.”
Georgia shook her head, turned to grab two plates from the cabinet, and set them down on the counter beside the tray of roasted broccoli from the oven. “Well, part of this is your fault. You made TapNext a work-approved app, and now she thinks she’s entitled to troll for penis during the day.”
“Because it’sourfucking app,” I retorted. “My employees need to know how the app works to be able to promote it, fix it, improve it.”
Georgie shrugged on a laugh. “Yeah, but still. Leslie thinks she’s doing sugar daddy market research or something.”
I groaned. “Fucking hell, I probably should fire her.”
Georgia shrugged, clearly determined to avoid the trap of giving me permission.
I cocked my head to the side, unwilling to lose without trying one last time. “So, you agree, you think I should fire her?”
“Nice try, baby.” My wife laughed. Outright. And then turned around to open the oven door and bend over to check the chicken marsala in the pan still inside.
I took that opportunity to step forward and place two greedy hands on her ass and squeeze.
She squealed on a giggle. “Kline Brooks!”
“You have only yourself to blame.” I waggled my brows and glanced down at where my hands met her backside and squeezed. “Flaunting this perfect ass in my face like that.”
“I’m not flaunting, I’m making dinner,” she retorted and stood back up to face me.
“Looked like flaunting to me.”
“Because you’re a horny pervert.”
“When it comes to you, Benny girl, I am a total degenerate,” I replied and reached out to brush a strand of blond hair out of her face. “You have no idea the things I want to do to you right now.”
Georgia leaned forward to press a kiss to my lips. “Hold that thought until later tonight.”
“What? Why?” I pouted.
“Because dinner is ready.”
“But I want to be your sugar daddy.” I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her body tight to mine.
She quirked a knowing brow. “And what exactly are you trying to give me?”
“Orgasms, Benny. Lots and lots of orgasms.”
She rolled her eyes and started to turn back to the oven, but I made the executive decision that we’d eat dinner later. After I spend a good hour worshiping her perfect ass. Chicken marsala was good, but it didn’t even come close to the taste of my wife.
Between one breath and the next, I had her tossed over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry and my fingers were tapping the oven off.
