I pull into his driveway, taking the bag off the passenger seat then I walk over to his door and ring the doorbell.
The door opens and his face goes from a smile to heated all in the blink of an eye. “Hi,” I say, holding up the bag in my hand, “I brought dessert.”
“What are you wearing?” He snatches my hand and drags me in, slamming the door behind me. “Where are your pants?”
“It’s called a sweater dress, Zane,” I explain as he presses my back to the door. “Oof,” I say when he puts both of his hands by my head at the door. “If you think this is good, wait until you see what I have under this sweater dress.”
His mouth crashes onto mine, and my purse and the bag with the strawberries fall to the floor as my hand goes into his hair. His hands go under my arms as I wrap my legs around his waist, and I lose myself into the kiss. Fuck, this man can kiss. My lips tingle from the roughness of his beard, and I can’t wait to feel it in other places. He lets go of my lips, but still pins me to the door, looking into my eyes with a heated expression. “Have I ever told you that you are a good kisser?” I brush the side of his hair with my nails. “I mean, I also help you be a good kisser because you do need to have a good partner. So I’m thinking together we make a pretty good team.”
He smiles as he wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in my neck. “It’s all you, baby,” he counters, and I smile.
“Damn right,” I gloat, his chest on mine as he laughs. “Now are you going to feed me or fuck me and then feed me?”
“Feed you first,” he replies, putting me down on my feet, “but you’re definitely keeping those shoes on.”
“Good to know you are a fan of the shoes,” I mention as he bends to grab the bag.
“Did you really go out in public like that?” I cock my hip.
“I’m going to give you a minute to rephrase that sentence.”
“I don’t need a minute. Did you go out in public like that?” His finger comes up and then goes down. “Dressed like sex on a stick.”
“Don’t try to lure me with compliments.” I look at him. “I had to bring the condoms.” I pick up my purse. “So I decided to pick up dessert too.” I fold my arms under my tits, pushing them up. “You’re welcome.”
He slides his hand into mine. “I was planning on eating you for dessert.” He winks at me and my mouth goes dry. “You’re welcome.”
“No,” I shake my head, “you can’t turn my words against me.”
“Fine,” he says, bending and kissing my neck softly. “Come, let’s eat.”
“And here I was going to drop to my knees and eat your cock,” I deadpan, and I can see the way his cock twitches in his blue pants. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” I get on my tippy-toes to kiss his neck. “I’m very curious as to what you cooked in an hour,” I wonder as I walk down the hall and into the kitchen and stop. The lights are off and all around the room illuminating the space are soft candles, some in vases filled with water and floating. There are five vases of red roses, two vases of white roses, one of pink, and another one of peach. Every inch of his counter is filled with roses. “Okay, I didn’t really cook, but I did order food.”
“What is all this?” I go around in a circle as I take it in.
“This is a long over-fucking-due first date,” he explains as he grabs the side of my neck and pulls me to him to kiss me.
“Okay, fine, I’ll give it to you now,” I tease as his forehead hits mine. “You win this round.”
“Baby,” he says, and my stomach feels like it’s a wave crashing onto the sand, “if it means you’re with me here in my house, I win every single time.” I can’t help the smile that fills my face. “Now let’s eat before I forget about my promise to eat and then fuck.”
“I’m okay with that,” I reply as he leads me to the table where he has two place settings set. He pulls out my chair as I sit down. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Yes, but you’ll give me that later.” I wink at him now and he groans. “It’s all fun and games until the roles are reversed.”
“Two can play that game,” he retorts, going over to the oven and taking out two plates and he comes back.
“A burger and fries,” I say and he smirks.
“Figured we can have a redo of the first meal we had together.”
“Did we actually have a meal together?” I ask as he sits in front of me. “The way I remember it, it was me just talking.”
“I spoke back,” he reminds me, picking up his burger.
“I think you said maybe five sentences,” I point out as I pick up my own warm burger.
“Your voice was that of an angel.” I glare at him. “I was nervous,” he admits, “and pissed about my house.”
