belt of her sweater and opened the fabric. It was warm to the touch, perhaps from the heat of the stove, but more likely from the heat of her body, radiating like the scent of the sauce and whatever grain was slowly bubbling at the back of the stove.
âHmm,â she said as he rested his hands on her rib cage, just below her breasts. âWhat will you give me in exchange for releasing you from our agreement?â
âOrgasms,â he said, and stroked his thumbs against the soft undercurves. âAs many as you want. I wonât come until youâre done.â
Her head lolled forward, the wild spill of her hair tilting with the movement. He had her. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. A quick swipe of his thumbs over her erect nipples had her trembling.
âShit! The polenta!â In one movement she snatched up the spoon and shoved him back a step with her hip; in the next sheâd whisked the pot off the burner and was stirring heavy clumps up from the bottom, returning the thick mixture to its creamy state.
âYou are a very bad man,â she said, gesturing with the spoon.
He folded his arms and grinned at her. âYouâre still not surprised.â
âThat youâd try? No. At how successful you were? A bit. I am saved by my own polenta.â
âYouâre really not going to have sex with me, are you?â
She set the pot on the granite countertop and looked him straight in the eye. âNo. We had a bet, which you lost. If you want to leave now, I understand.â
No way was he leaving. Sheâd respect him a hell of a lot less for storming off in a huff than she did for giving in to the demands of his cock. Up his game, and he could save this. âWhat would I stay for?â
âMushrooms sautéed in white wine and garlic over polenta, fresh spring greens with pears and feta, and individual chocolate lava cakes with homemade whipped cream and raspberries for dessert.â
Saliva gathered in his mouth. He swallowed it and said, âThatâs it?â Like her menu was the usual takeout heâd bring home for a Friday night in front of whatever sport he could find on TV.
âIf youâre a masochist, you can watch me get myself off after we eat. I was absolutely desperate for an orgasm before you and your wicked mouth started to have your way with me.â
He was no masochist, but heâd give up his apartment for the chance to see that. âDeal,â he said, lightning fast. âYou have to take your clothes off. And I get to talk.â
âFine, but no touching,â she said, brandishing the spoon again.
âYour rules, darlinâ.â She wrapped her sweater around her waist and knotted the belt, then smoothed her hair back again. âYou look like a pigeon settling its feathers after a fight.â
Her eyes narrowed. She picked up the bowl of polenta in her left hand, then stepped into his body and cupped his balls through his jeans. âDo you have any idea how badly I wanted you in my bed tonight? Itâs all I could think about, sex with you, releasing all that anticipation. So if I seem a little flustered, itâs all your fault, and youâre going to pay for it later. But first,â she said, and handed him the bowl, âwe eat.â
***
Sheâd set the table in basic white dishes, silverware, and linen napkins. Votive candles floated in large glass bowls, reflecting off the silver ring on her thumb as she set the mushroom dish next to his place and the salad in the center. This was a galaxy away from fast food.
Sarah held out her hand for his plate, scooped some polenta onto it, dabbed a shallow depression in the polenta, then spooned mushrooms over it. âSalad?â
âPlease,â he said.
It was like being in a really nice restaurant, with amazing views and time to enjoy the food, except they were alone as alone could be. He could feel his brain jerking like a
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