The beautiful blonde tosses her head back and laughs with delight.
“Oh Brant, you don’t have to worry. I’m youthful, but I’m not that young. I’m twenty-two, so you’re in the clear.”
I exhale with relief, not even realizing that I’d been holding my breath.
“Good,” I grunt. “That’s great. Twenty-two is an amazing age, in fact, because you’re old enough so that I can fuck you hard, but young enough so that you’re flexible and can take it.”
Petunia giggles again, not at all offended by my words.
“Do you always talk like this to women you’re dating?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Dirty, you mean? Fuck yeah, and especially if I’m with a beautiful woman whom I want to fuck. And I absolutely want to fuck you, Petunia. There’s no doubt about that.”
She laughs lightly again, but her blue eyes shutter a bit. That’s strange. What would make her close up? Did the filth spewing from my mouth get to her? But then she throws me a saucy look.
“So you like them young, hmm? Have you ever dated an older woman?” she asks in a light tone.
“I get around. I can’t say that I have that much of an age preference though. Hot pussy is hot pussy, although of course, women who haven’t had kids have tighter twats.”
Petunia rolls her eyes.
“That’s just an urban myth and you know it! Women’s bodies are like elastic bands that stretch for childbirth before snapping back in place with proper diet and exercise. But still, Brant. You’ve never dated an older woman?” she probes.
“I’ve dated older than you, of course. But a lot older? No. I generally prefer them to be on the right side of thirty. Of course, that doesn’t mean that I’ve exclusively dated younger women, but who wants a wrinkled old hag when you can get a sweet nymph with a tight snatch and big breasts?”
Petunia goes still and shoots me an unreadable glance, the skin around her eyes going taut.
“What is it?” I growl. “You’ve got eight years until thirty, so you’re nowhere near that cliff.”
The blonde girl is unmoving for a moment while staring at a fleck on the counter, and I wonder if I’ve said something wrong. But then she looks up and is all smiles.
“Yes, I know,” she says in a light tone. “Eight years is a long time, isn’t it? Well, it’s good to know I’m still dateable per se.”
“You’re very dateable,” I rasp. “That can’t be news to you, sweetheart. You must have guys falling at your feet everywhere you go.”
Petunia merely shrugs a bit while avoiding my gaze.
“Maybe,” she says in a light tone. “Maybe not.”
That makes me pause because she’s being shifty. I can’t put my finger on it, but I can sense it because this woman must have guys dying to get in her pants, and yet she won’t admit it. Maybe I said something? Maybe she’s modest? I have no idea.
Still, Petunia seems to be probing for something and she shoots me another unreadable look from across the kitchen island.
“So do you generally date a lot of women?” she asks in an arch tone. “Or am I the only one?”
I pause for a moment.
“Sweetheart, we just met yesterday. What is this: the Inquisition?”
She cocks her head to one side, her gaze even.
“Well, yes, a little bit. I think I have a right to know about the sexual habits of my partner, don’t you think? Safety and all that.”
I blow out a breath.
“Okay, then I’ll be straight with you: I’m not dating anyone at the moment, except you. There, happy? It’s all out in the open now.”
Petunia bites her lip, averting her eyes and I wonder what I’ve said again. Is it possible that I’m reading this situation all wrong? But my answer should be the right one. After all, I just declared that she’s the only woman on the horizon.
Yet her signals blow hot and cold and I shake my head with confusion. What the fuck is going on? Why are women so confounding in general? I’m a guy with a lot of experience, and yet there’s something about this blonde filly that has me going in circles. I mean, what else should I be saying? Would it be better for me to state that actually, she’s one of ten women that I’m fucking at the moment, and that I’m recruiting her for my harem? Goddamn.
But Petunia’s decided to move on, it seems. She nods, sitting a little too still, but then the blonde woman looks up, her expression calm.
“Okay, yes, that’s a fair answer, I suppose.”
I shoot her a meaningful look.
“What would be fair, honey, is if you shared your sexual history with me. Tit for tat, after all.”
The blonde nods in a calm fashion.
“Of course, and I’m happy to do so. I haven’t been with anyone but you, Brant, for a while now.”