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Wednesday after dinner, Amber was watching a baking show and working on her latest crochet project when the TV and lights suddenly went out.
No big deal. The power would probably just be off for a few minutes.
She took out her phone and looked at a houseplant forum. She’d joined it on a whim last summer when her fern was dying.
She had yet to make a single post.
She was, quite frankly, terrified to do so. Who would have thought that houseplant enthusiasts would be so vicious? But they were. Someone had posted a picture of their succulent the other day, and there had been a heated debate over what type of succulent it was. Last week, a woman had managed to kill a cactus, and oh my God, she’d gotten destroyed.
Amber, for whatever reason, enjoyed the low-stakes and high-drama debates.
She’d also learned quite a bit about ferns and had managed to figure out what was wrong with hers, but she would never, ever post her own question.
After looking through the houseplant forum, she went to Instagram. She followed a bunch of bakers who posted pictures of their amazing cakes, and there was a spectacular geode cake today.
Finally, Amber got tired of social media, and her phone battery was running low.
And the power still hadn’t come back on.
She looked at the Twitter feed for the hydro company, which confirmed that yes, there was a localized outage, and they expected it to last until midnight, maybe later.
Midnight! It was only eight thirty now. What would Amber do for the next three hours? And what if the power wasn’t back on by tomorrow morning?
Maybe she could stay with Gloria.
She texted her friend but didn’t get a response, and actually, that was a bit of a relief.
Because now she could ask Sebastian.
She figured Sebastian would be home on a Wednesday night, and he’d let her stay—after all, he’d asked her to stay on Sunday.
She’d said no. Although she didn’t have strict rules about not staying overnight with a guy other than a boyfriend, it had seemed a little relationship-y for her comfort.
But now, her power was out. It was only sensible.
She texted Sebastian, and she got a reply a couple minutes later.
Sure, come on over.
Amber could barely contain her grin.
She needed to make sure they focused on sex, with a side of friendship. Nothing romantic about tonight at all. No snuggling up while they watched a movie.
She had better ideas.
* * *
Amber set down her overnight bag and slipped off her winter boots.
“Hey,” Sebastian said, his hands slung in the pouch of his hoodie. “Sorry about your power.”
“Are you?” she asked, sliding her hands under his sweatshirt and T-shirt.
She couldn’t think straight now that she was touching him, especially not after what she’d done before leaving her apartment. It had been hard to get dressed in the dark, and it had taken a while to find what she needed.
She kissed him hard on the lips, and he growled.
“I have something to show you,” she said coyly. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Lead the way.” His rough voice vibrated inside her.
Once they were in the bedroom, she pushed him down on the bed so that he was lying on his back, his head on the pillows.
Then she stood at the foot of the bed and tossed her sweatshirt on the floor.
He breathed in sharply.
She wasn’t wearing anything particularly revealing. Just a skirt, a button-down white shirt with one—okay, maybe two—more buttons undone that was strictly proper. Plus the vest she’d bought the other day. Some minor adjustments and she could wear this to the office.
“You like it?” she asked.
“You look hot.” He leaned forward and reached for her.
“Uh-uh. You only get to touch when I tell you to.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Okay.”
She wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, but she’d wanted to wear something he’d like, and she wanted to be in charge for a little. The other day, when he’d cooked her dinner and they’d talked for a long time in bed, she’d felt like she was losing some control of the situation.
But not now.
They were going to fuck.
His gaze raked over her, and he licked his lips.
She got a thrill out of turning him on, more than what she’d experienced with other men.
Discarding that thought, she crawled across the bed toward him, her hands and legs staying on either side of his body.
And...oh.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She wouldn’t tell him why she’d winced, not yet.
He was looking down her shirt—he must have a good view of her cleavage in this position—and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He kept his hands fisted in the blanket when she touched his cheek and kissed him, her tongue stroking against his.
Next, she got to work on his jeans. She unbuckled his belt, unzipped the zipper, and slid her hand over the hot length of him.
He hissed and tore his mouth away from hers.
Oh, just you wait. She’d hardly gotten started.
She moved to his side and took his erection—as much of it as she could—in her mouth.
He gripped her hair and moved her up and down on his cock. When she squirmed, the toy shifted inside her, and she groaned.
Fuck.
She couldn’t wait any longer. She rolled off him, removed her skirt and panties...and watched his eyes widen. To give him the full effect, she stood up beside the bed and clenched her inner muscles.
She was wearing a dress shirt and vest, but her tits were almost hanging out, and the end of a dildo stuck out of her.
He looked at her with very appreciative shock.
Sebastian was the good son, who’d gone to medical school and hadn’t given up on piano lessons but instead got his ARCT.
And here he was, mouth hanging open, pants undone, watching with rapt attention as Amber pumped a toy in and out of her body.
She took a moment to savor the situation.
She felt like she was the bad girl corrupting him, even though that wasn’t true. He hadn’t had as many sexual partners as she had, but he’d been in relationships and was clearly experienced in making a woman feel good.
And though Amber’s life was actually quite respectable now—decent apartment, decent job—in this position, she felt anything but respectable, and it was a great feeling. Empowering.
Yes, with him, she had power. He wasn’t some asshole with weird and possibly racist preconceived notions of who she should be. They’d known each other for a long time, but—perhaps because they hadn’t seen each other in nine years—she could be who she wanted with him and know he’d see her that way. The way she wanted to be seen.
He yanked off his shirt and crawled toward the edge of the bed. She breathed in swiftly, her attention focused on the swell of his biceps, his erection bobbing between his legs.
And the toy inside her, of course.
He came to sit in front of her on the bed, his feet planted on the ground.
“You,” he whispered, “are incredible. That toy looks so fucking pretty in your pussy.”
Her skin sparked at his words. She loved when he talked to her like this. When he was filthy, rather than the proper man the world saw.
He grasped the end of the dildo. “May I?”
Filthy, but polite.
“Please.”
Slowly, he slid it in and out of her. His gaze was riveted on hers, as though he was memorizing every quick gasp, every flutter of her eyelids.
“God, you’re so sexy.” His other hand moved over her ass, kneading and squeezing. “Naughty girl.” He gave her a light slap.
Then he let go of the toy and unbuttoned her vest, followed by her shirt. These, and her bra, were tossed on the carpet before he returned to sliding the toy inside her.
“Sebastian,” she moaned. “I can’t...I’m not going to...” Her legs started to quiver.
“Come to bed,” he murmured, scooping her ass toward him. She fell on top of him, laughing. “On your elbows and knees.”
It wasn’t a command. Well, not what she thought of as a command. His words were quiet, and not firm—but not weak, either. It wasn’t a question—and yet it was. If it will please you, this is what I want you to do.
She wasn’t in control anymore, and yet she was.
She did exactly as he said, her face toward the foot of the bed, her ass toward the pillows. She sensed him adjusting himself behind her.
“Good girl,” he said.
She was acutely aware of every inch of her bare skin; it felt overly sensitized.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
* * *
Sebastian would touch her soon, but for now, he’d simply enjoy the delectable image in front of him.
Thank God for power outages.
Amber hadn’t simply thrown a few things in a bag and come over to his well-lit home. No, she’d put on a special outfit just for him.
The toy he’d used on her the very first time. Sexy work clothes, similar to the one she’d worn for bubble tea, which he’d professed to like very much.
For him.
And for her, of course. He knew she wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t enjoy it.
There were so many things he wished to do to her.
“You’re face-down on my bed with your ass in the air,” he observed. “Is that because you need a spanking?”
He could tell from the hitch in her breath that she liked the idea, but he waited for her to speak.
“Yes,” she said.
He wouldn’t spank her hard, but God, he was desperate to see his hand hit her ass.
First, he palmed her ass gently, then raised his hand up.
He smacked her.
She trembled.
“Okay?” he asked.
Her head was pressed against the bed, but she nodded.
So he spanked her again. Twice. Three times. Four times.
“Sebastian,” she said, begging, but she didn’t say for what.
He pulled the dildo out of her and replaced it with two fingers, hissing when he discovered that she was dripping wet. The fact that she was so turned on...it turned him on even further.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “So good.”
He shed the rest of his clothes and sat behind her. Pressed his mouth to her entrance, fucked her with his tongue, then swirled his tongue over her clit. Again and again....
“Sebastian!” she cried, her hands gripping the blankets.
Over the past couple weeks, he’d learned that Amber could come a few times in close proximity—usually with clitoral stimulation.
“Another?” he said.
“Yes.”
He jacked himself off with one hand while the other thrust the dildo into her body. He loved how it looked coming out of her channel. When he pressed his finger to her swollen nub, she jumped and came immediately, sobbing against the blanket, her knees sliding back until she was lying on her stomach, unable to support herself.
He lay on top of her, pressing kisses over her neck and face. “Do you want more, love? Or are you finished?”
“Let me get you off first. You wanted to see my mouth on your cock, didn’t you?”
He could only nod.
She took a few deep breaths, recovering, before pushing him onto his back and wrapping her lips around his erection.
He ran his hand through her hair and murmured, “You’re incredible... You’re so good at taking my cock... God, yes.”
He didn’t last long. Soon, his entire body was pulsing with his orgasm, and a shout ripped from his mouth, catching him off guard.
“Amber.”
When he found his bearings again, he realized the dildo was still inside her. Her pussy had been full when she’d sucked him off.
Oh, fuck. He jammed it into her again and again as he devoured her mouth and squeezed her breasts and tried to give her all the pleasure in the world.
And when she screamed for him, he was filled with bliss.
* * *
Amber felt like she was drunk, though she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol tonight.
But she was giddy and light-headed, and she couldn’t stop smiling and laughing. She’d had plenty of satisfying sex before, but it had never made her feel quite like this.
She nestled against Sebastian. He was grinning too, looking mighty pleased with himself for what he’d done to her. She wanted to kiss him, and so she did, leisurely stroking her tongue into his mouth.
Afterward, she couldn’t help giggling again.
Her body, though, was utterly boneless with satisfaction. She’d already gotten up to go to the washroom, and she didn’t plan on standing up again for a long time.
“You wore me out,” she said.
And she drifted off in his arms.
* * *
Sebastian was a bit of a morning person, though he would have happily stayed in bed for longer today, tangled up with Amber.
However, they both had to work.
He’d showered quickly, and now she was showering while he made her breakfast.
Coffee was already brewing. Normally he’d have cold cereal during the week, but he figured he had enough time to make French toast. Thankfully, he had the ingredients for this unexpected romantic mid-week breakfast.
Romantic?
For Sunday’s dinner, he’d been very careful to make sure it wasn’t romantic, but now he was making French toast with maple syrup and strawberries and baked banana, and he was whistling.
He wiped his hands on a towel and glanced at the perfect slices of strawberries he’d cut, determined to make sure their plates looked just right. He couldn’t help wishing that it wasn’t dark out, and that he had a little glass vase of flowers. Daisies, maybe.
Sebastian wasn’t used to lying to himself, but he realized he’d been doing a little of that lately.
But no longer.
He was falling in love with Amber Wong.
He certainly hadn’t expected this to happen, just after he’d moved to Stratford, only a few months after his break-up with Lucinda.
Yet there it was.
Funny that you fucked a woman with a dildo and it made you realize you were falling in love with her.
Though, frankly, it had started when she drove him to Waterloo to have bubble tea, if not before.
He brought the coffee and mugs to the table on a tray, and he was about to plate the French toast when Amber came into the kitchen. She was wearing black pants, a white shirt—and God, the vest she’d worn yesterday. Her hair was wet, and she had a towel over her shoulders.
“You don’t have a hair dryer,” she said.
No, he kept his hair quite short and didn’t need one.
He made a mental note to buy a hair dryer this weekend.
“I might have thought of it if I’d had more time to pack, but there was the blackout, and...” She shrugged. “The power’s back on, supposedly.”
“That’s good.” Though he would have been happy to have her back here tonight.
“It smells great. What did you make?”
He held out a plate with two pieces of French toast and two long slices of baked banana. She hadn’t been impressed with his banana milk tea, but she’d said she liked cooked bananas, and he didn’t have much other fruit in the house. There were sliced strawberries scattered over the French toast, and a few more in the corner of the plate.
“Sebastian, you garnished it!” She took the plate and kissed his cheek.
He could get used to this. Waking up with Amber, having breakfast with her, seeing her dressed up before she went to work...
Oh, yes. He wanted a whole lot more than this arrangement offered.
Perhaps the fact that she was happy about breakfast was a sign that she might be interested in something more, too.
After all, it wasn’t like Amber was completely against dating. She’d just wanted to take a break after all her shitty experiences with men.
Which she’d told him about.
Perhaps that was also a sign that she wanted to be closer to him.
Or it was a sign that they were friends, and her delight over breakfast was just a sign that she was hungry.
Hmm.
He knew he was better than the boyfriends she’d told him about the other day. This had nothing to do with size, of course. He wasn’t a white boy with a creepy fetish; he believed in equal rights; he wasn’t sixteen years older and in a position of power over her.
Okay, the bar was low, but he knew he’d treat her right.
He sat down with his plate of food and put the pitcher of maple syrup on the table. Yes, he’d actually poured the maple syrup into a small pitcher rather than putting the bottle on the table. He sure was being fancy.
“This banana is good,” Amber said. “It’s so sweet and melts in your mouth. You used butter didn’t you?”
Watching her eat his food was making him a little hard, but he didn’t think they had time to do it before work.
“Do you enjoy cooking?” he asked instead, wanting to know more about her.
“I don’t mind it on occasion, but I don’t like having to think about meals every day. It’s one of the things I hate about being an adult—you always have to figure out what to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I wish someone would do it all for me for a few weeks.”
He held himself back from volunteering.
“Actually...” She had a bite of French toast before continuing. “You know what I want to get into? Cakes. I love watching baking shows. I want to make and decorate fancy cakes. There’s a class I could take in Waterloo, but...” She shrugged.
“Why not? Is it too expensive?”
“It’s more that it seems like a silly hobby, and it’s not like I’d ever do it for a living.”
“You don’t think you’d be good enough?”
“No, I just don’t have an interest in doing it professionally. I prefer my current job to working in a kitchen.”
“There’s nothing wrong with doing things for fun. If you don’t want to take the class alone, I could do it with you.”
The words had just popped out of his mouth.
And that’s how he knew he was really falling in love. Sebastian had no interest in cakes and cake decorating. He appreciated the taste of a good cake, but he’d always thought elaborate wedding cakes and such were silly.
But it sounded fun...if it was with her.
When should he broach the issue of them being a real couple?
Amber had a sip of coffee, then spontaneously burst into giggles, as she had so many times in his arms last night.
“Imagine if our parents found us eating breakfast together,” she said.
“Fortunately, my parents are unlikely to surprise me with a visit at seven in the morning.”
“But if we did this on the weekend and were, say, having brunch at ten, it wouldn’t be out of the question. My parents usually call before they visit, but occasionally they don’t. They’d ask lots of questions and would interfere so much. My family is always jumping to conclusions and getting carried away. If my grandma saw us eating breakfast together, she’d probably be planning the wedding.” Amber shuddered.
“My parents, too.”
“No, your parents hate me.”
What?
“Of course they don’t,” he said.
“Okay, maybe that was a bit strong, but they’re not my biggest fans. I work for a theater festival—that’s not respectable enough for them. They were perturbed by my so-called wild antics in high school. I’m positive they don’t think I’m good enough for you.”
“Our parents are good friends. They’d be thrilled.”
She shook her head. “Our families can’t find out. They’d get the wrong idea—mine would be happy, yours wouldn’t—and I don’t want to tell them what’s actually going on. Your parents would definitely think I was a bad influence.”
It was clear she wouldn’t be receptive to the idea of a relationship with him.
If they were in a real relationship, they’d have to tell their families eventually. He agreed that their families would be a little annoying, but it seemed like a small price to pay for being with Amber. And in a way, it was nice that their families were already friends. There would be no uncomfortable meet-the-parents-for-the-first-time dinners—because they already knew each other’s parents.
He still didn’t believe his parents would be unhappy, as she assumed.
Well. Now was not the time to ask Amber about being a couple. He would say something eventually, but not yet.