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I let out a short laugh. “Full disclosure? I’m the kind of guy who will act like the big boss whether we have sex or not,” I said. “My sister says I have a character disorder when it comes to that. I piss her off regularly. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Dude,” she said sternly. “I won’t be meeting your sister. This is a total one-and-done. If we do it at all. Which is by no means certain.”
I lifted my hands. “I bow to your will,” I said.
“Bullshit you do,” she said, studying me keenly. “You don’t bow to anyone’s will. You just manage people, expertly. Because you’re smart. But it’s always your will being done, in the end. Am I right?”
I considered my words carefully. “Maybe,” I said. “But I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing, if our interests align. And they do. What I want right now is to give you unbelievable pleasure. Hours of it. Until you’re exhausted from it.”
She harrumphed. “That might be harder than you anticipate,” she informed me. “I’m a tough nut to crack. Or so I have been told. I have a hard time letting go, relaxing. So really. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Great,” I said promptly. “And this is where my character disorder comes in handy. The positive flip side of thinking I’m the big boss is not being afraid of a challenge, or strategy. Being willing to play a really long game. As long as it takes.”
Her eyes dilated. She licked her lips. My cock swelled against my jeans.
Whoa. So, the name of the game with Kat was slow. That was the key.
I held out my hand, and the gesture had the feel of a ritual. A point of no return, for both of us. Relief and elation flooded through me as she took it. Gratitude, too, because I was desperate for this, after all the flirtatious foreplay of that meal, that conversation. If she had turned me down, I would have needed to be hospitalized.
I bent over her hand, and started kissing it. Slowly, thoroughly, figuring I’d begin as I meant to go on. Worshipful. She was skittish, shy, so I had to get her to the point where she was half-mad with frustration.
I felt the shiver go through her. Goosebumps, the nipple jut.
“Shall we go back inside?” I asked.
“Sure.” I kept hold of the hand she had given me, resisting her first, instinctive tug to free herself. I wasn’t giving any ground right now. Not right after winning it.
Back in the sunroom, she turned to face me. “So, how’s this going to work?”
I just smiled. “I’ll follow your cues.”
“You mean…here?”
I looked around, assessing the erotic possibilities of the sunroom. It had strong points. The heater made it warm enough, the afternoon sunshine filled it with light, and there were lemon profiteroles to play with.
But it wasn’t the right vibe. Not yet.
“Let’s go to my room,” I said. “I think this should start on a bed.”
She laughed. “Ah, okay. Traditional much?”
“I just like my soft mattress,” I said. “Later on, I can impress you with how adventurous I am.” I tugged her hand, to get her moving, and led her through the place.
Through the huge corner living room with the glass wall on two sides, one opening on to the terrace, the other out over a cliff. There was a little sunshine slanting through the jumble of heavy clouds. She glanced at the photo gallery.
“This is your family?” she asked.
“Family and friends,” I said. “Only the closest ones. You’d like them.”
She harrumphed. “That’s not in the scope of our night,” she said. “So don’t plan on introducing me to your parents.”
“My parents are long gone,” I told her. “When I was sixteen.”
“Oh. Like me, then. So, you didn’t inherit all this?”
“No,” I said. “My folks didn’t have a dime.”
“Ah. This is all you, then. Self-made man. Very admirable. Yay for the American dream.”
