“It takes a couple of hours for the cannoli filling to set up,” she says after a moment. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
I nod and gesture for her to sit next to me. Still naked, she reaches for a blanket and glances at me for permission. I nod again and help pull it over her.
For what feels like the first time, I really look at her face. Study the curve of her cheek, the sweep of her lashes, the way her mouth curves when she hands me the remote. The trust in her eyes when she settles against me.
She nestles into my side, her hand finding my cock through my jeans easy, familiar. I grab her wrist, stopping her with a warning look.
“You can wait.”
“I just wanted to—”
“I know what you wanted to do. You have to earn it.”
Her cheeks flush pink and she nestles her head in my lap instead. Under the blanket, I run my hands over her body, mapping the curves I’m starting to know by heart. Her skin is warm, soft, impossibly smooth.
I click through channels until a movie starts. I don’t even know what it is. My entire focus is on her: the proximity of her mouth to my cock and my hand to her pussy.
She drags her nails lightly over my abs and I grit my teeth, trying to focus on the screen.
Is she trying to throw me off balance on purpose? Make me break my own rules?
When she slowly drags her nails up the inside of my thigh, I growl. “Sophie…”
She lifts her dark eyes to meet mine, all innocence. “You don’t like it?” She keeps doing it with light pressure, achingly slow.
My cock hardens to the point of pain and before I think it through, I slap her ass hard.
Her hand freezes, her breathing picking up immediately.
I glare down at her, but when her pupils dilate, I realize she’s not getting the message.
To be sure, I slide my fingers between her legs from behind. Her pussy issoaked. My cock strains against my jeans.
“I—I’m not sure if that means stop or keep going,” she says softly, her expression passive. I can’t read her.
“You interpret a spanking as encouragement to continue after I just told you ‘no?’” It’s a genuine question. I don’t understand how this woman thinks. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“From your response, I’m guessing ‘no,’” she says carefully. “But you know I like it when you spank me.”
She says it so simply, owning something that should embarrass her with quiet confidence. The whole God damn thing is confusing as hell.
I ignore her and turn back to the movie, my arm resting along her side. She turns toward the TV too, but I don’t watch a single second. My attention is 100 percent on her, her hand that never stops roaming my thigh, the heat building between us.
The second the credits roll, I click off the TV.
She rises without a word and heads to the kitchen, her ass swaying with each step. When she bends at the waist to open the fridge and peer inside, I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Is it done?” I’m starving. For a lot of things.
She smiles at me over her shoulder, clearly enjoying the effect she has on me. “It would be better if you let it set overnight but—”
I raise an eyebrow and she stops talking immediately, shakes her head, and pulls the bowl of cannoli filling out of the fridge.
“Feed it to me.”
She dips her fingers in the cream and brings them to my mouth. I suck her fingers clean, groaning. Fucking incredible. Sweet, creamy, perfect.
I scoop some onto my own fingers and bring them to her lips. She opens, taking my fingers in her mouth, her eyes locked on mine. But I keep my expression dead, cold. Nothing sweet or romantic here. This isn’t a date. This isn’t love. This is… whatever the fuck this is.
