I open the fridge and remove two ice-cold bottles of Budweiser, twisting the cap from both before placing one in front of her. Bringing the opening of the bottle to my lips, I take a mouthful and watch as she stares directly into my eyes.
Noticing movement to the right of me, my eyes automatically flick in the direction of it, where I watch with apt devotion as she strokes her fingertips languidly up and down the neck of the bottle before wrapping one hand tightly around the base and lifting it to her own mouth.
Jesus Christ.
Incapable of tearing my eyes away from the scene in front of me, I observe her wrap those pillow-soft lips around the opening and take a long sip. I’m transfixed as her lips pop off and she uses the thumb of her left hand to swipe the stray drop of beer trailing down her chin back into her mouth.
How in God’s name is my dick this ridiculously fucking hard over something so effortless as that?
Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me?
The affect her presence is having on me is confusing as well as frustrating. I’m not like this; I don’t watch women this way. I don’t long to touch them or imagine how my cock would feel sliding in and out of them. But apparently my brain and body didn’t get the fucking memo when it comes to Robyn.
Tossing her a gentle wink because I can’t think of anything better to do, I give her my back and continue finishing up the last part of dinner, removing twoblack bowls from the cupboard above my head and plating up the rice from the rice cooker ready for when I ladle the stew on top.
The rest of dinner is spent in silence, other than the few sounds of enjoyment she makes when eating. Something I would usually find peeving as I hate that type of shit. My doctor told me I have something called misophonia, but yet when Robyn does it… there’s nothing irritating about it. She sits scrolling through her socials, I read my book, and oddly enough we both fall into that comfortable silence that I haven’t enjoyed in so long.
It’s almost too good to be true.
Because there’s usually someone bothering me one way or another, but this right here… it’s… nice. For once.
Robyn’s phone breaks the silence in the room as it begins ringing. I look up from my book and watch her slide her thumb across the screen to answer a call from someone named Letty.
“Letty, hey…” She grins broadly. “Urgh, I know, I’m hoping it’ll ease up soon… it’s looking pretty bad out there.” I continue to listen in on her conversation even though my eyes are staring at the page of my book. “Hopefully I’ll be able to get out of here tomorrow morning, and—”
“Not a chance,” I voice.
“Hold on a second,” she tells her friend, pulling the phone away from her ear and cupping the speaker with her free hand. “Sorry, old man, but you’re not my daddy, remember? Like you said, I already have one of those, so how about you stop listening in on my conversation and get back to reading, Pops.” She waves her hand at the book. “Or whatever it is you old people do these days.”
I bark out a laugh at her words. I close the book with one hand, standing from the barstool, and collect my empty food bowl. “I’mnot telling you what to do, the weather is if you haven’t noticed.”
Rolling her eyes she continues with her conversation. “Just my mother’s husband… Yeah, I’m stuck here with him… What? No, Letty, he’s not… I’m not lying… Shut up,” she scolds her friend, but as I glance over my shoulder and watch the light blush creep up her cheeks, I can’t help but chuckle when our eyes meet.
While she continues to chat away with her friend, I clear the counters and make sure everything else is tidy. I also fill up the crock-pot with dish soap and boiling water to soak any of the remaining food stuck to it. Now all she needs to do when her call is finished, is rinse everything and place it in the dishwasher.
Simple. Right?
Wrong.
“Yeah, I’m going to try and get some of it done tonight…” She releases a soft laugh. “No, yeah, hopefully without any interruptions. I’m sure the old guy will be asleep by—”
I walk towards the archway of the kitchen, calling across the room to her as she stands at the frosty window. “When you’re done, you can rinse everything off and place it in the dishwasher.” Granted, my tone as I talk to her is a little more blunt than I intended, but… I’m not supposed to care.
I barely have a chance to step foot out of the kitchen before I hear her groan and then mutter under her breath, “Eat me, asshole.”
Now I know I should just keep moving, leave the kitchen, and ignore her snarky little comment so I can simply move on with my evening, but I can’t, because yet again my restraint snaps without a second thought.
It’s as though my brain shuts off from any kind of rational thought and before either of us know what’s happening, I’m striding across the open-plan kitchen towards her.
My insides twist and burn with some… feral need to own her, and as she glances over her shoulder, I cage her between the warmth of my body and the window before she has a chance to turn around fully.
“What the fuck!?” she exclaims, her phone falling from her grasp and hitting the wooden flooring with a lightthud.
Robyn presses both hands to the glass trying to push back from it, but I push my body closer to hers, not giving her even an inch of space to move. The rush of blood flowing through me only floods to one area, and I know she feels it as the globes of her ass grind against my already half-hard cock, and she freezes instantly.
I grip her chin and tug her face to the side, so her cheek is now pressed against the window and she’s able to look right at me as I lean in and press my lips tothe shell of her ear. “You have such a foul mouth on you, little bird, but let me make one thing abundantly clear so you don’t forget it. If I was to do what you so harmoniously requested of me just then—” I lower my voice a little more, so her friend is incapable of hearing the words I say next.
Shut up, Jack.
