I list the several possibilities I could quickly prepare, and she picks spaghetti and meatballs. I make the meatballs by hand, too. Mom taught me how. Then I bake them while the sauce is simmering. The sauce isn’t totally from scratch—I start with pre-made sauce as my base, and it quickly works up from there.
When we return to her house, I’m more careful than I’ve ever been in my life as I pull into her garage. I park in there, too, but my car’s a few steps up from a beater.
Hers is worth at least fifty grand, or more.
“You didn’t have to sit on the floor to label those fliers,” she tells me as I shut off the car. “You could’ve used the conference room.”
I feel a little embarrassed. “I enjoyed the company, ma’am.” When I look, I find her gaze focused on me, intensely inquisitive.
It makes me blush.
“Still no girlfriend?” she asks.
The heat in my cheeks feels thermonuclear now. “No, ma’am,” I quietly admit. “I’m working too hard to screw things up now.”
She slowly nods. “You are wise beyond your years, Dec. That’s one of the things I love so much about you.”
Fuuuuck. Yes, this willallend up in the spank bank later. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Casey,” she insists. “Or Case. Just not at work.”
“Casey.”
She smiles, patting my thigh again, squeezing. “Please bring my things into the house and let’s enjoy our evening.” She opens her car door and climbs out before I can reply.
I grab her things and carry them inside, setting them on the couch where I usually do. She’s already heading upstairs, and I follow. I don’t want to get spaghetti sauce on my suit.
I change into shorts and a T-shirt. Her bedroom door is still closed when I emerge and head down to the kitchen to start dinner.
I’m standing at the counter and making the meatballs when I sense her walk into the kitchen behind me. “It’ll be about an hour, ma’am,” I say. “I mean, Casey.”
“Good.”
Something about her tone of voice makes me glance back over my shoulder, and I nearly choke on my own tongue.
She’s wearing a black satin bathrobe, untied, over a short black nightgown. Did I think she was beautiful?
I was wrong. She’s fuckinggorgeous.
I…
Holy fuck.
I’m certain I’m going to pass out from the sudden oxygen deprivation in my brain. My cock tents my shorts and she smiles as she walks over and looks up at me. She’s barefoot, and that puts her five inches shorter than my five-ten.
She looks up at me and wears a playful smile. “How about I make a deal with you, Declan?”
“A…d-deal?”
“You’re eighteen now.”
“Legal age,” I think, then realize I stupidly said it out loud when her smile widens.
“Exactly. Although I will not deny last year was a testament to my self-control.”
My throat is totally dry. “Yourself-control?” I’m the one who nearly yanked off my cock while masturbating in my private bathroom or in my bed over fantasies about her.
“Mmm-hmm.” Her eyebrow arches and she indicates my obvious erection. “This conversation should be considered privileged, by the way. On both sides. Understood?”
