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I perched on one of Dean’s kitchen chairs, dressed only in one of his giant T-shirts, while he cooked French toast and crispy bacon. The perfect post-sex supper. I shifted in my seat, my ass a little tender, and he glanced over his shoulder at me.
I never had a lover who spanked me before. Dean had set me on my hands and knees and slapped my butt, hard, twice on each cheek. Easy tears sprang to my eyes, but I loved it at the same time. Loved the way it diverted my focus away from my messed-up life. Loved the encouragement he gave me before each slap, and the slow kisses that followed.
I also loved the way he delivered on his promise and fucked me until my legs trembled and my voice was hoarse from crying his name.
Could I love Dean or just what he did to me? Or were the two intertwined? It was too soon. I was tumbling headfirst into my old pattern of equating sex with love, and I had to break the connection. Before it broke me.
“Come back to me, Steph.”
The low command in his voice snagged my attention, and I met his gaze. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“You okay? Or do I need to kiss it better?”
My cheeks burned at his smirk. “Maybe?”
He adjusted the heat under the frying pan, and then covered the distance to my side. “On your feet, gorgeous. I want you to bend over and hold onto the chair seat. Let me look at your ass.”
I felt exposed and naughty, with my bare behind in the air, but when Dean crouched behind me and pressed a series of gentle kisses across the tender skin, I melted.
“Seeing my handprints on your pale skin makes me so hot for you, little sandy girl. And I know how wet it made you.” He trailed his fingers across my pussy.
He was right, and I felt my cheeks blushing some more. My face must be the same colour as my ass right now.
Dean laid another series of kisses across my butt, and then stood. “If I don’t stop now, the food will be ruined. Sit yourself back down.”
It was surprisingly easy to follow his every order, and even though my ass tingled, it wasn’t painful. I could ignore the mild discomfort.
The French toast was crispy and complemented the bacon perfectly. I tucked in, starving now. “This is delicious,” I said. “Thank you. You’re good in the kitchen.”
“Eh, my mum insisted we all learn how to cook the basics before we left home. I don’t mind takeaways, but I don’t want to live off them, so it suited me.”
“How many siblings do you have?” I asked.
“Three. Two older brothers and a younger sister. Mum jokes that it took four goes to get a girl.”
“What are they like?”
“Jack is the oldest. Responsible and takes no shit from anyone. He’s in the army and loves it. Then there’s Will. He’s a doctor in the Emergency Department in Starship. You know, the children’s hospital in Auckland. Then you’ve got me.” He paused to take a drink of coffee. “And lastly, there’s Fliss. Felicity. She still lives at home, on account of having a little kid. Rhianna is three, but everyone calls her Sweet Pea.”
“Is Fliss not married?”
“Nah. She only found she was pregnant after she split up with her boyfriend. He pays her support, but Mum and Dad are happy for her to stay home until she’s ready to move out. She’s just graduated from Uni with a Masters Degree in Engineering, so it might take a while.”
He was relaxed and comfortable talking about his family, and proud of them. How would that feel?
“What about you?” he asked. “You said you’ve got a brother and a sister. Do you get on, or are they thorns in your side?”
“Thorns, definitely.” I wanted a change of subject. “Rhianna would be the niece you read to?”
“Yep. Well remembered.” He nudged at my plate. “Eat up, sandy girl. We haven’t finished in the bedroom yet.”
After another intense fuck, we showered together, and then Dean tugged me under the covers next to him. “It’s late, and you’re staying,” he said.
I didn’t argue. He promised me one night, and so far I’d dragged that into three, but this had to be the last time. I’d enjoy it while it lasted. Tomorrow I’d start weaning myself off him.
*
My phone alarm dragged me from sleep at stupid-o-clock in the morning, and I groaned. It was tempting to call in sick, but I wouldn’t. I was trying very hard to be responsible, and bailing on my job wasn’t acceptable.
Dean stirred beside me, and I turned to look at him. Enough early-morning light sneaked through the blinds for me to be able to see him and admire his profile again.
I had to leave. Get back to my place, take a shower, and gulp down my meds. King needed to go out. But I stayed a moment longer.
“Why are you staring at me?” Dean’s voice was rough with sleep, and I hid my smile.
“I’ve turned into a psycho bunny boiler.”
“Yeah... no. Try again, gorgeous.”
I leaned over and brushed a kiss across his lips. “I need to go to work. Sorry.”
He yawned. “I’ll drive you back.”
No. This was Step One of separating myself from him. “No. I want to walk. King needs to run on the sand. Stay here.”
Dean sat up. His short hair was delightfully rumpled, and his scruff called to me to run my fingers across it, but I resisted. “I’ll walk with you,” he said.
If I said yes, I’d have him a little longer.
“No. Really. I need some space.”
The look he gave me was puzzled, but he scrubbed his hands across his face and wiped the expression away. Now he was back to cocky and casual. “Enjoy your day, sandy girl.”