“What’s for dessert?” I asked.
“You.” I pinched his non-pierced nipple with my fingernails.
“Bad girl. We’re having s’mores.”
“Really?” I hadn’t had one of those in a very long time.
“I mean, unless you don’t like s’mores in which case, there’s the door.” He pointed and his face was serious.
“You mean to tell me that if I didn’t like s’mores, you’d kick me out?” I raised my eyebrow.
“I don’t want anyone in my house who doesn’t like s’mores.”
“Well, it’s a good thing for you that I do.”
“Thank God.” He motioned for me to let him up and went back to the kitchen as the song changed again to Muse’s ‘Starlight’.
“Do you need any help?” I hadn’t seen a fire or anything, so I was wondering how this s’more thing was going to happen.
“No, I’ve got this, just relax. You’re only the boss during the day.”
I held up three fingers. “Three strikes.”
“More knee time. Whatever shall I do?” I watched him from the couch as he brought out something from under his cupboards and brought it over to the coffee table. It was a hybrid of a fondue set, but without the pot on top, so it was basically like a little tiny fire. He lit it and then brought over plates of chocolate, graham crackers and marshmallows.
He handed me a metal skewer with a little handle and took one for himself.
“Ready?”
“Um, yeah, I’ve made these before, but never inside. It’s nice that I don’t’ have to worry about mosquitos. Or smoke in my eyes.”
“Did you go camping a lot?” he said as we rotated our marshmallows to evenly brown them.
“My parents have a summer place in Maine, so we used to go a lot. We’d be at the house and then Dad would just start packing a bag and tell us we were going camping. I mean, it was real camping. Sleeping on the ground, outhouse, bathing in the river, the works. It was the only time I ever saw my dad wear flannel, or my mom without her lipstick. It was great.” I waited for him to tell me something about his childhood but he seemed intent on his marshmallow.
“Did you go camping as a kid?” I finally asked.
“Not very much.” Okay, childhood questions were out. My marshmallow was done so I grabbed my graham cracker and chocolate and slid the marshmallow off and in between the crackers. Apparently, making a s’more was like riding a bike. Or having sex. It all came back to you.
I was eating my first s’more when Lucah’s first marshmallow got too close to the flame and went up. He tried to blow on it, but that only made it worse.
“Aw, you lose. Want some of mine?” I held my s’more out to him and he took a bite before he pulled the burned part from the marshmallow and ate it anyway.
We both went for our second marshmallows and I saw that Lucah had marshmallow smeared in the corner of his mouth.
“Hold still.”
“What?” He went to wipe his face.
“No, I just told you not to move.” I leaned forward and licked the marshmallow. I tried to pull back, but he grabbed my chin and kissed me. He tasted of chocolate and graham crackers and sweet melted marshmallow and underlying it all was the taste of him that I never thought I was going to get enough of.
“I like a little you with my dessert,” he said, pushing my hair back.
“Same here.”
We ate a few more s’mores and kissed a little more, and he slowly removed my clothes and I removed his and then he carried me to the bedroom and f**ked me so slow and so sweet that I held onto him afterwards and didn’t want to let him go.
He looked down into my eyes and smiled and then rolled so we were both on our sides and pulled out.
“Any second thoughts?” he said.
“A few. But I’m ignoring them.”
He ran his hand over my shoulder.
“I could quit.”
“No, you don’t have to do that. I can’t let you do that for me. We can make this work. This is only the first night. It’s going to take some adjusting.”
“I don’t want to put you in this position. It isn’t right of me to make you take chances, Sunshine.” I put my hand on his mouth.
“It’s not for you to decide. I’m the one who told you to put your dick inside me. Repeatedly. And I also told you that I would fire you if you didn’t do it. Jesus, I made you finger me in the middle of a meeting. I’m not innocent in this.”
He circled his finger on my shoulder.
“No, you’re definitely not innocent, but I like that about you.”
“Oh, you like that? What else do you like?” I smiled and moved closer to him.
“I like your bitch face. And I like that you always wear high heels. And I like that you care so much about your job. And I like this . . . And this . . .” He moved his hand from one breast to the other and then slid it down my stomach and moved and thumbed my clit and flicked my piercing.
“Oh, I definitely like this.” I was so sensitive from the recent contact with that area that it didn’t take much for me to want him again.
“I like your hair, and your eyes, and this,” I said, putting my finger in his chin dimple. “And I like this,” I said tapping his nipple ring. “And I guess I like this,” I said, moving down to his dick.
“You seemed to like it a few minutes ago.”
“I guess. It was okay.” He growled and lunged at me until he was straddling me again. I screamed and he nuzzled in my neck.
“Speaking of that, I need to take care of it.” He reached over to grab some tissues and tossed the condom. I needed to get up and pee, so I did that and then came back and crawled back into bed with him, snuggling under his arm.
“I like this,” he said, pulling me close.
“I like this too.” I liked it a lot. A lot, a lot. I yawned even though I tried not to.
“Go to sleep, Sunshine. We’ll have other nights.” I didn’t want to, but he had really nice pillows, so I let myself rest against his chest and the sound of his breathing lulled me to sleep.
An alarm blared in my ears and it felt like it was stabbing my skull with sound.
“Oh my GOD, that needs to stop,” I moaned and rolled over. I’d been sprawled over Lucah’s bare chest and his arms and legs had been all twisted with mine.
The blaring stopped abruptly and I looked at him as he blinked his eyes open.