I blink at him, letting the meaning of his words make their way into my brain.

“I hope you understand. I don’t mean any offense to you, or your family, ‘Ree. But I won’t be scared away from you, or intimidated away by your family’s money or position or any of that. If they don’t like me, or don’t want to sell auto parts to me because I’m dating you, I don’t care. I’ll make a success of my business with or without them.”

A burst of relief hits me, mixed with growing respect. Far from offending me, his words and their quiet certainty reassure me and raise my confidence in him.

My attraction to him goes up even more, too. His self-assurance is sizzling hot, and coupled with his size and his self-restraint, it’s making me want him even more.

God, this is…I get the shivers when I think of having him between my legs.

All I know is that I’m smitten…hooked and half-way in love already.

Smiling softly, I say, “Of course I understand.”

He pulls me into him for a hug. I wrap my arms around his hard, beefy waist and bury my face in his chest. “Mmmm,” he purrs, running his hands up and down my back, “you feel good.”

“You too.” I look up and give him my best smile. He smiles back and we share a tender kiss. Then he gives my ass a pat. “Let’s get the chops on now, I’m starving.”

* * *

While we grill, we get into a deep discussion about my life, with him asking me a lot of questions about my degree and my plans.

Sitting down to eat at the patio table, the talk moves to the future. He already knows that I might leave Sinclair’s after I graduate. Now, he wants to know if I plan to stay in automotive or run some other business, or do something else entirely.

“I’m just wondering what you see in your future,” he says. “What you want to see happen over the next five years, for example.”

“A good-paying job that I don’t hate,” I laugh. “But my dad…my family…they want me to stay with Sinclair’s, take some kind of executive position eventually, and keep driving for publicity events. I don’t want to let them down. And I don’t want to be ungrateful, but I feel uneasy about having my life decided for me…handed to me on a platter.” Finished my meal, I wipe my mouth and sit back. “Maybe that’s part of the problem, I dunno….maybe it’s just too easy.”

Nodding, he crosses his fork and knife on his plate and sits back thoughtfully. “Well, it’s true that people don’t value what they don’t work for. Having something handed to you is nothing like earning it through your own effort.”

“Exactly! It’s hard to explain that to people sometimes, though. People tend to see me as ungrateful just for saying that I’m not sure what I want. One guy I dated called me a “spoiled little rich girl” when I tried to explain how smothered I feel. It’s like, I’m not even allowed to wonder if working for the family business is right for me. I should just shut up, do what I’m told and be happy about it.”

Mark listens quietly, his expression so neutral, I worry what he’s thinking. People are intolerant and unsympathetic towards the problems of people with money…and especially, the children of people with money.

It’s such a typical reaction that part of me is ready to go numb, waiting for Mark to say something hurtful or lecture me about how spoiled and lucky I am.

“Spoiled little rich girl, huh? Well, your family may be rich but I doubt that you’ve had a chance to accrue much personal wealth yourself. Right?”

“Ha! Right.”

“And as far as being spoiled…well, you do have a nice car and a guaranteed job. And a chance to let your inner speed-demon out to play once in a while. Obviously, that’s more than most people get, so yeah…you have things, and… opportunities.” He raises his eyebrows and looks directly into my eyes. “What being spoiled really means, though,” he adds, making quote marks in the air. “…is that something is ruined.” He smiles softly. “What you’re saying aren’t the words of a ruined person. All I hear you saying is that you don’t know what you wanna be when you grow up.”

His words are so kindly delivered, I’m overwhelmed for a moment.

I swallow hard and clear my throat. “Thanks, Mark,” I say. “Thanks! I really appreciate that. Most people make me feel like an insufferable brat for this kind of talk.”

Lifting my hand from the table, he brings it to his mouth and kisses it softly.

“Ah, sweetheart,” he says, caressing my knuckles with his thumb. “I just hope that when you decide what you want, your decision includes me in there, somewhere.”

“Well, so far, so good,” I say, and give him a wide smile. The warmth in his eyes tells me how much he likes my smile and my answer. “Let’s clear the dishes away and then get back into the pool.” I pull at my wrap, where it’s sticking to my moist skin. “It’s so muggy! I put on a sweat just eating dinner.”

“Yeah, me too.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, the dishwasher’s loaded, the kitchen tidied, and we’re back outside. I remove my wrap and toss it onto a chair, earning an appreciative whistle from my grinning date.

He’s standing about half-way down the pool steps. He holds his hand out to me as I approach, and I take it, stepping down onto the first step.

The pool lights are much easier to see now, in the growing dark. Their soft, colorful lights make the pool look magical.

“Look how pretty…” I start to say, but that’s all I get out.

“Last one in is a rotten egg,” Mark interrupts. He grabs me by the waist, lifts, turns, and tosses me bodily into the water as if I weigh nothing at all.

I come up sputtering and laughing, and he’s right there, coming up beside me, water streaming off him as he chuckles and wipes his face. “Looked like you could use some help cooling off,” he says.

“Hah! Do it again,” I say.

“My pleasure. Here, put your feet into my hands,” he says, squatting down in the water.

With my feet in place, and my hands on his shoulders, he stands up to his full height and heaves me backwards into the water.

I land with a mighty splash and come up giggling and sputtering.

We spend the next half hour or so playing in the water, splashing and yelling and trying to dunk each other; racing from one side of the pool to the other; then sinking to kneel face-to-face on the bottom, having a goofy underwater conversation in mime and trying not to laugh.

Tiring of that, we take a rest, with him taking me into his arms again in a squat, so that we’re both submerged except for our heads. My legs loosely straddle his. He cuddles me against his body and we kiss and nuzzle. “You make a sexy underwater mime,” Mark says, “but if I were you, I wouldn’t quit your day job.”

I laugh. “Shit! Just when I thought I found my new calling!”

Another kiss turns into two, and then another, and another…turning quickly into lingering, slow tongue-kisses, kindling that fire again. My hands roam over his broad shoulders and arms, taking in his muscles greedily, his power and strength more of an aphrodisiac than I even imagined.

He breaks the kiss and, with a groan, pulls me against him, his hands kneading my ass, reaching down towards my cleft but not quite touching me there. Frustrating! I wrap my legs around his waist and hook my feet together at the ankles. His stiff cock presses me, throbbing insistently against my soft core.

I hear myself whimper as I grind myself against him. I can’t help it! The man is so goddamn sexy!

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers. “This is torture!” He looks towards one of the islands of bubbles floating on the surface of the water. “Hey…let’s try something.” In two slow-motion strides, he carries me to one of the benches from which a bubbling stream emerges. “I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about this,” he whispers, nuzzling my neck and cheek, “but these water jets feel really good…like a stationary shower massage.”

Oh God…yes, I just so happen to have a shower massager…but this isn’t my shower head in my private bathroom.

It’s a lot more naughty and sexy than that.

His hands steer me to a submerged spot on the bench, and instantly, I feel the soft pressure of the stream of bubbles against my bottom. I look down reflexively.

“It’s a recessed jet, covered with a plastic grid. It’s perfectly safe,” he whispers into my ear, his big hands holding my hips in place. “Is this okay with you, baby? Hmm? Will you let me help you get you off…right here, tonight…?”

I can’t speak. I’m so horny, I can only kiss him, my tongue flicking his mouth hungrily.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs, his voice intense. “Alright…tell me when I’m close…how about here? No? Here? How about here…ahhh, there we go!”

I gasp and wriggle, the stream of bubbles directly against my vulva now; soft, insistent pressure bouncing directly against my aching clit.

He holds me steady, breathing hard, watching my face intently. “Yeah…that’s it, sweetheart, that’s it…yes, relax…yeah…is that nice?” I nod, clinging to his shoulders. “You gonna come for me?” His voice is an urgent whisper. “Oh, yeah…come on, sweet girl…come for me…ohhh…fuck yeah!”

And oh my God…so hot…sexy…his kisses, and his broad shoulders, his big hands on my hips, holding me in place, his deep voice a sensuous murmur. His blue eyes, fixed on my face so intently…full of lust…his soft, insistent, encouraging words, like fuel to the flames.

The fluttering, delicious pressure of the stream of bubbles against my clit and vulva is like nitro, their licking, flicking stimulation making that aching, luscious pleasure grow…and grow…until oh godohgodohgod… !

“Huhhnnn…huhhnnnn!” My head goes back, my eyes squeeze shut and I come hard, crying out, my voice hoarse and high with ecstasy.