HE WRAPPED US IN THICK WHITE TOWELS WHEN we climbed out of the pool. We went inside and sat at the island counter and ate slices of lamb with a squash casserole that tasted like something a grandmother would make—filling, comforting and probably full of fat. Marco warmed up crusty bread just for me and we finished off the bottle of red wine. By the end of the meal I was languid with well-being. I rubbed Marco’s bare calf with my foot.
“Tonight you get to chose what we do. When is it my turn?” Yes, I was being greedy, when we’d barely started.
Marco swung his balloon-shaped wineglass between his fingers. “I’ve had a grand time being in charge so far. Why should I give my power over to you? Wouldn’t that be negating our agreement?”
“Oh, come on, Marco. I know what you’re playing at. I’m not that naive. I don’t get the house. I don’t want it. I have a career, and someday I’ll be able to buy a place like this for myself. I don’t need someone to give me a house, especially not one in return for sex. You wouldn’t have really done it, anyway.”
He swiveled toward me, his chest bronze and beckoning in the candlelight. I longed to touch him, but kept my hand in my lap.
“You’re not a very trusting soul, are you?”
“Let’s just say I’ve learned my lessons.”
“I tell you what.” He stood up and ran his hand down my bare shoulder, raising goose bumps. “I’m going to now do what every woman dreams a man will do for her.”
He’d already cooked me a wonderful dinner, so that left that out. I thought about a foot massage, or maybe him painting my toenails, or hmm, maybe dressing up as a pirate. The possibilities were endless. “I can’t imagine,” I said.
“I’m going to wash the dishes,” he announced.
“Oooh, that’s a good one. Naked?” I asked hopefully.
“Sorry. Too much hot water involved.”
I did get to watch him clean up wearing only a towel around his waist and that was almost as exciting, waiting for the towel to drop at any moment.
I knew it was supposed to be his night, but I couldn’t wait any longer. He had finished washing the dishes and was making coffee when I got off the stool and hugged him from behind. It was a risk, making the first move. Would he chastise me? Oooh, maybe spanking would be involved. I hadn’t tried that before. Was it in the plan? The man had seriously corrupted me by now.
All I got out of him as I pressed against his back was a low “umm” like the purring of a cat. I divested him of his towel and stroked his butt. High and tight. I let my own towel drop to the floor, and leaned against him again, rubbing my nipples across his back, standing on tiptoe to rub my bush against his ass. The purring had escalated to short moans. The cappuccino machine started to hiss. Marco stepped back and spread his legs. I knew an invitation when I saw one. I reached up between his legs and cradled his balls. They puckered and rose under my hand. I reached around his waist and grabbed his cock with my other hand. He was full and ready, the head already weeping for me. I spread his wetness over the head and his cock danced in my hand.
“Haven’t you had enough?” he growled.
“Never,” I teased. I turned him around, using his cock as a handle. He moved willingly, bracing his back on the counter, his feet still spread, offering himself to me. I got on my knees and took him in my mouth. I wanted to give him as much as he’d given me. I wanted him as crazed with desire as I had been out on the patio when he had rubbed my nipples with oil. I licked and sucked and nibbled. Each time he tried to pump into me, I pulled my head away and pushed him against the counter. He took my head in his hands and I pushed those back too. When his whole body went rigid, ready to explode, I took him as deep in my mouth as I could, wanting to take that small part of him, but he pulled me roughly up by my armpits and slammed me against him as he spurted between my breasts. We sprawled awkwardly to the floor, both of us panting.
“Not on the first date,” he rasped.
I closed my eyes and savored the sensations around me. The hard floor, the warmth of Marco’s thigh against mine, the now cold, wet cum against my chest. I could have fallen asleep right there. I jumped when a hot, wet dish towel rubbed across my torso. It was Marco leaning over me, cleaning me off. He helped me up and handed me a mug of coffee.
“Come on,” he said, and motioned with his head toward the stairs. He waved for me to precede him up the steps. I simply waved back. We smiled at each other. I had laid my body completely open for this man, but I didn’t want to climb the stairwell naked before him. He seemed to read my mind, and reached for my hand so we could ascend the soft, carpeted stairs side by side.