“HMM…SOMETHING SMELLS GOOD, RP, what’s the occasion?” Dave walks into the kitchen dropping his gym bag and briefcase. His near-black hair is still damp from the shower he would’ve taken before he left the gym. He is religious with his workouts, and I have to admit he looks damn good because of it. He’s not overly tall, five foot eleven. I’m five foot five, so he’s tall enough. He has wide shoulders, trim, narrow waist. His thighs are kind of weird now though, bulging and distorted with muscle mass, it makes finding jeans that fit a challenge. Every muscle from his tanned nose to his pedicured toes is toned to perfection, if a little bulky for my taste. I felt he reached perfection a few years ago, but apparently, that wasn’t perfect enough. His face is bright with a wide smile, and his jacket strains at the seams when he draws in a deep breath through his nose, capturing the aroma of the meal I have tried so desperately hard to make interesting. He strides straight past me to the fridge, grabs a bottle of water, and peers over my shoulder at the pans simmering. He ruffles my hair that I had artfully fashioned into a messy bun. I thought at the time, It is amazing how much effort is required to look effortless. “Why have you got your coat on, if we’re eating in?”
“I thought we could go out for a quick drink before dinner?” I give him a genuine, shy smile as I feel a surge of nervousness start to grip my tummy.
“Have I missed an anniversary or something?” He frowns, taking in the fact my face has little make-up and my coat isn’t all I’m wearing.
“No, I thought we could try something a little different.” I twist around so I’m now facing him, and with a boldness that surprises both me and him, I drag my leg up his thigh. The gap in the front of my coat widens and falls back, exposing my long leg, stocking, and suspender. I press the spike of my heel against his butt, impressed I can, one, get my leg up that high and, two, maintain my balance.
“You want to go out like that?” His derisive tone is as harsh as a slap in the face, but his mocking laugh is worse.
“Well, For a start, I’d quite like you to maybe not laugh at the suggestion.” I slip my leg back down. I don’t want to sound hurt or angry, or this evening will be a non-starter.
On the other hand, right now, I can’t ignore the real pain from the slice of rejection that cut deep with his response.
“I’m not laughing. I’m a little surprised, is all. This isn’t like you, RP—”
“Could you maybe not call me RP tonight?” I watch as more bemusement twists his features.
“Why? You know I don’t mean anything by it. It’s a nickname.” I can see he’s struggling to understand, but I don’t want to go into details. I want a bit of fun and a lot of intimacy.
“I know. Just maybe not tonight.” I try and keep my plea lighthearted but earnest, because it really is a shitty nickname.
“Fine. You’re acting really weird, Finn. Are you on your period?”
“Oh, my God!” I hold my breath and count silently to ten, thanking all that’s holy I don’t have a knife at hand.
“Sorry. Clearly not, although…” His accusation hangs in the air like a noose swinging silently in the gallows, along with the remainder of my surprise evening.
“Jesus, Dave.” My voice catches with an equal mix of fury and emotion.
“What? What have I done?” His tone has switched from confused to inflammatory with a tinge of aggression. “I walk in and, bam, you’re acting all weird, wanting to have sex and go outside with me, while looking like a stripper.”
“I’m weird for wanting sex?” I take a step back and cross my arms tight around my waist, covering as much of myself as I can. I still feel more than naked, utterly vulnerable.
“That’s not what I said.” He lets out a heavy sigh, his hands deep in his pockets, and he shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Look, can we start this again, and maybe you can talk to me and tell me what the hell’s going on?” His tone softens, and I think that’s worse. I get an intense prickle at the bridge of my nose, and I have to blink to stop the tears from welling. I won’t fucking cry. I shake myself and straighten, pulling myself together.
“Fine, but I’m going to need a drink.” I grab my empty glass and the bottle of white wine from the cooler.
“Really, RP? You know that’s like a meal in itself. Do you have any idea of how many cal—” He wisely snaps his big, fat mouth shut as I spin to face him with thunder, and possibly murder in my eyes.
“If you say calories, I swear to God, Dave, this bottle is going where the sun don’t shine, and it’s not going in narrow end first.” I wave my weapon of choice at his startled face. The only words playing in my head are Hope telling me I fell in love with a bit of a dick. I pour a large glass of wine, making a childish point to fill it to the top, slurping from the lip of the glass before I can lift it. I watch Dave intently as he nervously draws small sips from his bottled water.
“Do you love me, Dave?” I hold his gaze as his eyes widen with worry.
“Is this a trick question?”
“It really isn’t.” I let out a sigh, feeling the warmth of the alcohol hit my bloodstream, calming me some. This conversation feels a little weightier than I was anticipating. I wasn’t expecting much conversation at all.
“Then yes, of course I love you. You’re my best friend, my little RP. Well, not so little.”
“Really, Dave? Is that seriously the problem here? That I’ve gained some weight?” I take another gulp.
“I was joking, and I never said that.” He has a look of mock hurt blazing across his face that I could make such an accusation.
“We hardly ever have sex, so there has to be some reason.”
“I love you, Finn. I’m not going to lie and say you are at your most beautiful now, because I personally think you’ll look more gorgeous when you lose a little weight.” He tips his head like that will soften the shallow, passive-aggressive insult.
“Just like I think you are most handsome when you’re not so bumpy with all those gross muscles.” I counter in all seriousness.
“No, but joking aside, Finn…” He barely gives my insult any recognition, and he certainly thinks it was a joke. “…you’re a very beautiful woman, and I’m a lucky guy.” He steps forward and sweeps his arms around me, pulling me close and holding me tight. This is all I wanted, to be held…well, held and some cock. I’ll take being embraced over indifference.
“And the sex?” I push, because, actually, I would really like some cock. I think I’ve healed over.
“I guess I’ve just had a lot on at work, and I know this might come as a shock, but guys don’t think about sex every five minutes.” He laughs out loud and playfully taps me on the nose. I’m not entirely convinced, but he holds my gaze, and I do see the love in his dark hazel eyes. It’s always been him, even if he can be a bit of a dick.
“So, we’re good?” I ask and grind a little against his erection, which is most definitely just as keen as I am.
“We’re more than good, Finn. You are my perfect woman, and on Saturday, I’m going to prove it.”
“Saturday?” I ask, hoping for more, then not. I’m all tingly with the anticipation, and I kind of like the feeling.
“Nuh-uh. I’m not saying another thing.” He kisses the tip of my nose, then my cheek. His lips brush mine, and as soon as I open my mouth to take a little more, he withdraws everything. His heat and his body. I sag from the loss, but he takes my hand. ”Come here.” He pulls me over to the kitchen island and slides his hands over my shoulders, squeezing the tense muscles and massaging with just the right amount of pressure to make me moan. What am I saying? I’m so horny a gust of wind would make me moan.
“I’m starving,” he declares, and all ministrations cease. I tip my head up to meet his gaze. He has a relaxed smile, and I sigh, a little defeated but only a slight amount. I still have Saturday.
“So, do you want your dinner now?” My hope that he wants to give me more flatlines with his answer.
“Yes! Then you can give me a blowjob, how about that?” Talk about throwing the dog a bone.
Buy here: