“No problem.” He takes in my position on the counter and smiles,handing me the plate then opening the drawer to get me a fork. “Coffee or juice?”
“Juice,” I reply through a mouthful of fluffy pancake, and he pulls out the jug of orange juice from the fridge, giving me a glass and kissing my forehead before leaning on the counter behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. The top collar of his grey thermal is unbuttoned, showing off the defined muscles of his chest and arms. Last night flashes through my mind. I love the way he is able to make me feel so small and feminine, the way it feels as he’s standing, holding me up with his strength while fucking me.
“What are you thinking about right now?”
My eyes focus on him and I feel my cheeks heat, so I shove a forkful of food in my mouth again and mumble, “Nothing,” causing him to smirk and my eyes to narrow, which only causes his smirk to turn into a grin. “What’s the plan for today?” I ask, swallowing another bite of pancake.
“You wanna go on a ride with me?”
“Sure,” I agree immediately; there is nothing better than being on the back of his bike.
“You’re gonna need to dress warm.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just for a ride,” he says, shrugging.
“Okay,” I agree slowly, wondering what he’s up to.
“Also, we need to stop pretending I’m not living here, and stop wasting money on my apartment.”
“Um…you were the one pretending like you hadn’t moved in,” I remind him.
“No.”
“Yes. I asked you, ‘When did we move in together?’ and you acted like we hadn’t,” I tell him, hopping off the counter and rinsing off my plate before setting it in the drying rack.
“No, I just didn’t want to have that conversation, with your mom and dad in the next room. Plus, you looked freaked when you asked that shit.” Okay, so he may be slightly right. I was a little freaked about it, just because I had no idea when it happened. It was like one minute we were dating, and the next, he moved in. “Judging by the silence, I think you get my point,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “So are you good with me closing my lease?”
“Yes,” I agree, wrapping my arms around his waist and looking up into his handsome face.
“What’s the mortgage on your house?”
“I don’t have one.” I shrug.
“You rent this place?” he asks as his eyebrows pull together.
“Maybe you should sit down,” I suggest, walking him backwards until we reach the living room, where I push him onto the couch and straddle his lap.
“I like this idea.” He smiles, palming my ass and lifting up, causing my core to rub across the denim of his jeans.
“Hold on.” I place my hands on his chest and lift my hips. “Let me tell you about this, and then we can get back to this,” I say, dropping my ass onto his lap.
“Get to it, baby,” he commands as his eyes drop to my mouth, making me smile.
“My mom was left an inheritance. My dad wouldn’t let her use it, so she put it into an account and it grew, and when each of us girls turned twenty-one, we were given an even share of it. I paid for my clinic and my house, and the rest is in an account that just collects interest.
“So, you’re telling me you’re loaded,” he says, but I can’t read his face. I don’t know how to answer that question; I’m not loaded, but I’m comfortable, and will be until the day I die as long as I continue to work.
“Um…”
“I’m good with you having money, baby. All that means to me is if something happens and I leave this earth before you, you’re good. That shit will help me rest easy,” he tells me, and with that, he pulls my mouth down to his and kisses me until I’m riding him hard and fast on the couch, only stopping when I scream my orgasm into his mouth while he groans his into mine.
I watchthe open road and smile while wrapping my arms tighter around Wes’ stomach, feeling his muscles flex under my fingers I slid under his leather jacket and t-shirt.
This morning, after our couch session, I got up and took a shower, and then got dressed while Wes did whatever guys do while they are waiting for women to get ready. I chose a pair of dark jeans that I tucked into my brown boots, a tank top with a sweater and my brown leather jacket, and a scarf that has the story of The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett printed on it.
I tied my hair into a long braid that I laid over one shoulder and did light makeup of bronzer, a little blush, and mascara. I know nothing about our destination today, and that is okay by me. I just like being with Wes, and if I happen to be on the back of his bike, that is even better.
