We’re facing each other, both braced on the sofa arms. His brows furrow, as usual, a total contrast to his sprawled-out pose. One leg’s bent and down, propping up the laptop where he’s supposedly researching tiles or lighting fixtures or whatever. The other leg’s bent too, but up, knee hooked over a cushion like he owns the entire room.
He does, but that’s entirely beside the point.
If I’ve ever said anything negative about manspreading, I take it all back. Public apology pending.
If I stay here one more second, staring at this laid-back version of the doctor while populating the brief for the escort, debating whether I want to be an expert on giving or receiving oral first, I’m bound to leave a stain on this furniture that no amount of ‘we can never speak of this again’ could shelve.
I had been cataloging foreplay for days before my arrival, and now I’m trying to organize it all in escalating order until the man I hire finally fucks me—hopefully—as well as he does in my dreams.
I’ve got a tab open with every Kama Sutra position I want to try—arranged by flexibility, mattress support, and pelvic tilt. Another has an article on optimal clitoral angles. Enlightening. There was so much I didn’t know.
Then there’s the kink quiz results, cross-referenced across three sites.
Spoilers: I might have a praise kink. A thing for veiny hands and forearms. Maybe even a soft spot for dominant energy. Not a Dom per se, just that commanding edge. Another tab’s open to a Reddit thread titled ‘Soft Dom vs. Service Top—Who Wins?’
I still haven’t made up my mind, and the comment section gave me way too much food for thought.
I’ve got massage oil comparisons, a water versus silicone-based lube breakdown, and a UK-to-US lingerie size converter. For the record, the bras in my cart are from the “barely there” collection. I even made two playlists: ‘Slow Burn’ and ‘Wall Banging’. For mood calibration.
And yes, there’s a discreet little folder hiding the file ‘older-bloke-takes-control.mp4’, becauseI am a scholar and a slut, and the duality is important. I contain multitudes.
I’m clinically incapable of half-assing a project. I’m the reasonoverpreparedis in the dictionary.
Then I glance up.
Big mistake.
Preston is grinning at something on his screen, lips curled in a way that fries the last functioning brain cell I had left. He must’ve found something good. I wouldn’t know, because I’m too busy managing the sudden flutter of butterflies taking flight in my stomach and the desperate clench between my thighs at the sight of his mouth twitching up.
This man has reduced me to a hormone container.
A voice rings inside my head, telling me how well-suited the man in front of me is for the job. At first, I think it’s Callie’s voice. But no, it’s mine.
It’s my mind imagining Preston twisting me like a pretzel. It’s me who’s pasting his face onto every Kama Sutra illustration and searching for videos of older men. I retie my ponytail, tighter this time. The pause makes me notice my fever-warm and damp skin. Some places more than others. I need to stop this. Now.
No progress will be made here. Just my slow, delicious descent into horny madness.
“I’m going to finish this in the kitchen. Stretch my back a little,” I mutter, already standing.
“Oh, fuck, it’s almost three,” he says, placing his laptop onto the couch and beating me to the kitchen. “Come, let me feed you.”
Perfect. He doesn’t see my knees buckle.
Feed you. Not make you lunch. Not even cook for you.
Feed you.
So yeah. When he said that, it was like smut to my ears.
Actually, when he said ‘come’, I probably could have.
“Hmmm. Thanks,” I manage. I’m about to set my laptop on the counter when it gifts me a way out. “I’m gonna go plug this in upstairs. Be right back to help.”
“You don’t need to hel?—”
“Oh, shut up already,” I call from halfway up the stairs, fleeing the scene. His full-blown laughter follows me, rich and gruff and so melodic it nearly drags me back down just to hear it better.
The sound skims over my skin in all the right places. I climb the rest of the steps, wondering if his hands could do the same.
