I want to draw this out.
Well, what I want to do is chain her up with her legs spread and see how many times she can take my cock.
Next time, I tell myself.
Something's caught her attention.
I grab her chin, turning her back to me.
“Wait—” She's fixing her clothes.
I look to my right.
Shit.
She's zeroing in on the typewriter… that, because of my freaking sisters, is in the study. Fucking—
“That's the problem with you reading girls,” I tease her, trying to be casual. “Books and stationery.”
I stand up, drawing her into my arms. I then kiss her deeply, grab her hair, pull her head back, and reach behind to stroke her between the legs.
“Shit,” she slurs. “That's good. Just—” She reaches out for the typewriter.
“I don't think it even works,” I tell her, trying to act casual, as casual as can be. “It was one of those white-elephant presents from my brothers.”
It's too much. I'm JADEing. She wrenches away from me.
She types a few letters. “Seems like it works.”
The typewriter pings metallically when it reaches the end of the line of paper.
“Huh, you fixed it. You have the magical touch.” I smile at her.
The adrenaline is pumping.
It's better than watching my two-hundred-million-dollar NFL team play in the Super Bowl.
We're teetering on the edge.
Is she going to figure it out?
Winnie stares at me, brown eyes dark in the dim light of the study.
“You're not going to let me come all over your tits?” I whisper to her, reaching out to dim the lamplight.
She squints at me in the darkening room. “It's a really special typeface.” She visibly swallows.
A lesser woman would have just brushed it off, played along with me.
Not Winnie.
“It's Valera Serif font.”
“Correct. One of the most beautiful typefaces ever designed.”
“They didn't make that many typewriters with it.”
“You just have to confront it head-on, don't you? You have to fight. That's why I adore you. That's why I wanted you here. Though I didn't actually expect you to figure it out. It really is those little things that do you in. Such a cliché.”
