Page 47 of Sullivan

“You’re welcome, mo fhiadh beag. I meant what I said.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

I sat at the table, taking in the feast before me. Some sort of roast, mash, carrots, fresh beans, and rolls beckoned. A steaming container of gravy made my stomach grumble in anticipation. Autumn filled my plate, handing it to me. “I hope you like it,” she said, sounding shy.

I leaned over and kissed her. “I will.”

One bite of the meat and gravy and I groaned. “What is this?” I asked, the roast tender and rich. Spicy and intense.

“It’s called Mississippi Pot Roast. I had to substitute a couple things, but it’s one of my favorite meals.”

“Are these peppers?” I shoved one into my mouth before she responded, chewing the tangy flesh with more of the meat.

“Yes. Pepperoncini peppers. I was worried I wouldn’t find them here, but I did.”

“This is the most delicious thing I have ever eaten.” I grinned around another mouthful. “Forget what I said last night about you not having to cook. I want this every night.”

She laughed as she lifted her wineglass and took a sip. “You’ll get sick of it.”

“I’m willing to try.”

We ate in silence for a moment, the only sound the scraping of forks and knives on the plates. Suddenly, she waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh, I’m warm.” She stood and pulled off my socks, wiggling her toes. “That’s better.”

I helped myself to more food, enjoying it immensely. “I didn’t get lunch,” I grumbled. “We planned it, but a client showed up unexpectedly and I worked through it. I was in meetings the rest of the afternoon and had no chance to eat.”

“Poor baby,” she murmured, once again waving her hand. “Oh, still hot.”

She stood, divesting herself of the too-big pants. She did it with her back turned, offering me a glimpse of her lovely arse and creamy thighs as she bent over and shimmied out of the too-warm covering. I caught a glimpse of satin before she straightened up, and I admired the view of her shapely legs before she sat back down.

“Better?” I asked, my voice sounding a little hoarse. “Don’t stop if you’re still overheated,” I encouraged.

She shook her head. “I’m good.”

I pushed down my disappointment. I liked watching the plaid come off her.

We talked as we ate, her laughing when I told her about Lloyd.

“Well, he has a point,” she murmured, playing with the buttons of the pajama top. I tried not to stare as I glimpsed more satin-and-lace-covered swells under the ugly plaid, but it was hard not to. She had great knockers. I cleared my throat and forced my eyes to my plate. I shifted in my seat, my sweats a little tighter than they had been, wondering for a moment if she was doing this on purpose.

I sat back, replete. “Bloody hell, that was incredible.”

She finished her dinner, leaning over to pick up the water jug and top off our glasses. The top gaped, showing me more of the lace and silk under the material. She frowned at the small hiss that left my mouth.

“You okay?”

“I am.”

She sat back, shaking the collar, then stood, the long top gaping. Satin definitely peeked out from under the edge of the plaid. “I have dessert too.”

My cock twitched in my sweats. “Oh aye?” I asked with a leer. “What might that be?”

Frowning, she picked up our plates. “Pie with whipped cream. It looked so tempting, I couldn’t resist.”

“Oh,” I muttered, disappointed.

She returned a moment later with a pie, setting it on the table. I narrowed my eyes. The plaid top was gone, leaving her in a short robe that ended mid-thigh. It hugged her figure, belted tightly at the waist. “Autumn,” I asked. “What are you doing?”