“Do you want this?” I mumble into our kiss. “Do you want me to fuck you like you asked for when you arrived?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure I will enjoy it as much as I should,” she whimpers.
That’s all I need to force myself to slow down until I release her, still spooning. With the pad of my thumb, I caress the rosy curve of her cheek. “We can wait, red. We’re in no hurry, especially if you spend the day here.”
“But this seems painful,” she argues, pressing her arse harder onto my raging hard-on. It is.
“Don’t worry about it, love. It’ll go away. For now, I’ll be content being a cuddly wombat.”
She smiles, and it’s so bright and genuine that it makes the blue balls worth it. We return to our position, and she picks up the phone she dropped to continue her search for sustenance. I help her find the best place around here, and we pick whatever looks good. Given the quantity, there will be no cooking today.
And like the whipped wombat I am, I’m perfectly fine with it if the alternative is more cuddling in bed.
As promised, I give Genthe space she needs to do her thing. She settles on the couch, where Mulli joins her, and I sit on a stool at the high counter of the kitchen.
Breakfast, or rather brunch, was stellar. Her idea to get it delivered was great because now, any time we fancy a snack, we have a bunch of options to pick from. I offered to pay for it, but she insisted that it was her way of thanking me for welcoming her into my home in the middle of the night. As if I would have let her fend for herself in the state she was in—oscillating and talking too loud, drunk off her face.
I look up from the article Eli sent earlier and observe Gen from afar. She’s sprawled on the couch, her bare feet on the coffee table before her. The laptop is on her lap with her eyes reading whatever’s on the screen, one hand scrolling while the other mindlessly pets Mulli’s head resting on her stomach. Beelzebub is on the other side of the table Gen’s feet are leaning on, glaring at them with judgment, like always.
These three are getting along very well. A lot better than what usually happens when I bring women home. I guess it’s because of the consistency. Gen knows Mulli is a gentle giant, and the dog has seen her enough to grow some form of attachment. As for Beelzebub, I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I think he likes Gen even though I’ve never seen him like anyone before—not even the hand that feeds him.
My gaze seems to compel hers because Gen looks up. She gives me a smile, we stare at each other for a moment, and she returns to the laptop’s screen. I haven’t heard her make a call, so I figure her colleagues are enjoying their Sunday like normal people. Her lack of complaint tells me she’s used to it.
I remember how she joked about losing her weekends as she would climb up the corporate ladder, and I still can’t make sense of it. We’re supposed to work to live, not live to work. I do long hours, but it’s my passion, a craft I take great pride in practicing.
Maybe corporate law is the same for her, but I don’t buy it. It can’t be anyone’s passion. Especially not an adventurous and bold woman like her.
“Stop staring,” she demands with a grin, her eyes never leaving the screen.
“How do you know I’m staring?”
“I can feel it. It’s distracting.”
“You’re what’s distracting. My shirt on you is fantasy-inducing.”
She snorts, shaking her head before glancing at me. “Should I remove it?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Something tells me I won’t get any work done if I walk around naked.”
The dog reacts before I can, her head springing up at the magic word. Fuck, I’m being a terrible dog dad.
Mulligrubs excitedly jumps on the couch, to Gen’s confusion. I slide off the stool and walk up to them. “You activated her with the word ‘walk,’” I explain. Repeating it makes Mulli even more frantic. “I’ll take her out for a bit. She hates being cooped up in here all day. Do you think you can handle half an hour without me?”
I bend over Gen, leaning on the couch’s backrest until my lips are close to hers. “It’ll be hard, but I think I’ll survive,” she gravely replies.
I’m grinning like an idiot when I kiss her. “Alright, Grubsy! Off we go!”
The Rottweiler rushes to the door, and I join her, grabbing her leash and a tennis ball. I’m not really dressed to go out—a hoodie, sweatpants, and slippers—but it’s fucking Sunday, so I’m not doing anything about it.
“See you in a bit, red.”
“Have a nice walk,wombat.”
Once outside, I don’t waste any time before heading to the nearby dog park. There, I play fetch with Mulli, throwing the ball far to tire her faster. After twenty minutes and a fuming pile of shit that I handle, we’re on our way back to the flat. Upon entering the lift, I’m amused by how spent my dog is now. She couldn’t wait to get out, but now she’ll slump onto one of her mattresses as soon as we’re in.
“So, what do we think of Gen?” I ask her when the lift takes off. Mulli looks up at me with her dark brown eyes, tilting her head to the side. “We like her, don’t we? Isn’t she nice?”
