I had to think about that. “Missionary?”
“Really?” His tone was entirely disbelieving. We were now stuck in a slow crawl into Gastown, so I wasn’t getting out of this anytime soon.
“Yes.”
“Really.”
“Yes.”
“What do you like about it?”
“Well… I like having a man on top of me. You know, being able to feel him… his weight and his strength…” I opted to shut my mouth there, since Jesse’s eyes were blazing into me. I shifted in my seat; I was beginning to sweat in my leather and lace. “How about you?”
“Favorite food, T-bone steak, rare,” he said. “I’m allergic to cats. I sometimes talk in my sleep.”
“Really? What do you say?”
“I don’t know. You’re my girlfriend. You tell me.”
“I think I heard you mumble something about getting my name tattooed on your ass.”
“Sounds like something I would say.”
I laughed. “Favorite sexual position?”
“My face. Between your legs.”
My laughter choked off as heat flushed my cheeks. Right. Oral fixation. “Um…” I swallowed. “Isn’t that more of a foreplay position?”
He didn’t answer that, just chewed his gum and smiled. The roar of the Ferrari echoed off the close buildings as we made our way through the narrow streets.
“So, what do I tell people?” I asked, looking to steer the conversation away from sex. “I mean, they’re gonna ask. You know, me, with you.” Maybe all prettied up with makeup and lingerie and fancy lighting in a glossy music video I was a match for him on some level, but the truth of the matter was that Jesse Mayes was way the hell out of my league. He had to know it.
Everyone else would.
“Just tell them I fuck your brains out every night and you’ve never been happier,” he said, unconcerned. “What more do they need to know?”
“But shouldn’t we have a few details worked out? Corroborate our stories? Like what do you like most about me? Assuming that what I like most about you is that you fuck my brains out every night.”
He grinned. “I like fucking your brains out every night.”
I blushed; it was getting bloody hot in my leather jacket, but I was afraid to take it off and get eye-fucked all over again when he got a glimpse of the plunging neckline of my dress.
“Tell me what else I should like about you,” he said.
“I don’t know. I like animals. You’ve met my dog, Max. I’m fairly neat and organized. I’m a good baker.”
“You just described my grandma.”
I blushed again, this time from embarrassment rather than rising horniness. Why I didn’t mention my painting, I wasn’t sure. Maybe I didn’t want to sound like a pathetic wannabe. Too many times I’d seen the spark of interest in someone’s eyes, only to see it snuffed out again when they discovered I’d never actuallydoneanything with my artistic aspirations. “Um… and I fuck like an animal?”
“That’s more like it.”
“And what else do I like about you, other than the frequent sex?”
“You like my big ego,” he said easily. “You find it charming. You like my big dick. And I’m a phenomenal lay.”
Sweet Jesus. “Is that all?”
