“What are you making?” I ask, hearing my phone ringing upstairs.
“Steak and salad.”
“And potatoes, of course.”
She glances at me, then says, “Sure.”
“You don’t eat potato with steak?”
She shakes her head. “I try to avoid carbs.”
“Why?”
“I have a hard time controlling my weight.”
“You seem fine to me,” I say, and the moment it comes out of my mouth, I know I should’ve just kept nodding.Fucking nod, asshole, nod.I don’t talk about weight with women. Nope.
“Thank you,” she says.
Went better than I thought. I nod.
“Your phone keeps ringing.” Isla heats up the mini grill, throws butter on it. I watch it slide and think that’s how ice would slide over her soft warm skin.
“Yeah, I hear it.”
She glances at me, likely wondering why I won’t pick up, but that’s none of her business right now. Right now, we’re having a moment in time we will never again have, and I want to make the best of it with as much small talk as possible.
“I thought all the books were online now,” I start.
“Hm?” Isla asks.
“Online. You brought actual books. A shitload of them.”
“Ah, that. They’re online, but I learn better when I’m holding one in my hands.”
I smile. “I bet.” She can hold my dick for four years, get a bachelor’s in Ludi’s dick holding, a master’s in Ludi’s entire body, and then the ring so I can keep her for the duration of her life.
8
Dinner was excellent, and I cleaned my plate as fast as possible without looking like I had no manners, then had to wait for her to finish, digest, and whatnot—also because I wanted to present my good manners—but once an hour passed, I stoked the fireplace for the night and moved us upstairs.
The finest piece of furniture in this entire cabin is the king-sized bed with fluffy bedding like they’ve got in fancy hotels, and Isla sighs as she sprawls all over it and tucks a pillow under her head.
“Your bed is nice,” she says.
“Made nicer with you on it.” I’m a fucking poet.
Her gaze roams over my body, and as she examines the specimen of masculinity before her, my dick hardens, twitches. She snaps her head up and locks eyes with mine, then crawls over to the end of the bed and opens her mouth.
I place myself inside, and precum seeps from the top and onto her tongue. She moves said tongue over my length from the base to the top, where she closes her mouth and sucks, her cheeks hollowing.
I fist her hair and move her gently forward, reach the back of her throat, then push in a little more, until she gags. I do it a few times so that she’ll get used to my length and width, then press her closer to my body and don’t let her move away.
Mouth full of cock, her eyes fill with tears, and I pinch her nose, run a hand down her shoulder, and lift her breast. I weigh it, tweaking the nipple, until Isla taps my thigh.
I release her, and she inhales a breath, stares up at me. “Again,” she says.
I smile. “They, whoever they are, say that the quiet smart girls have dirty minds.”
