Page 28 of Obeying the Owner

“I’d rather smoke some weed than drink, but I’m a dad now and have to set a good example.”

“I’ve never tried it,” she says, and I know my surprise is evident. “What? I wasn’t much of a party person in college.”

“What about high school?” I ask.

“You were smoking pot in high school?” It’s her turn to be shocked.

“Yeah.”

“How did you have access to it?”

“It wasn’t hard to find. I have an older brother.”

“So do I, and he wasn’t offering me weed.”

“If I had a sister, I wouldn’t have either.”

She clicks her tongue against her teeth. “That’s sexist.”

“I get how it seems that way, but it’s really not. Women are the fairer and kinder sex. If I had a little sister, I’d want better for her, and I’d protect her.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.” She sips her drink, and I notice the wine-colored polish on her fingernails.

Two nights ago, those same nails left crescent-shaped divots in my shoulders.

My dick twitching with the memory, I take a deep pull of the mojito. I’m trying not to rush her right inside and up to my bedroom, but I haven’t stopped wanting her since the moment she left my house the first time.

I didn’t plan for our night together to turn into anything more, but my hunger for her isn’t waning. In fact, it’s only growing stronger. I’ve jerked off multiple times, and it’s not helping.

“What made you message me again?” she asks.

Is she a freaking mind reader?

I decide to be honest about my change of heart. “We had such great chemistry, and it seemed a shame to take advantage of that only once.”

She nods. “I’m glad you messaged. I wasn’t ready to swipe on anyone else on Finder.”

Fuck that. I don’t want to think about her with another man. Especially when there’s no reason for the two of us not to do this.

“To be honest, I wasn’t either.”

“So here we are,” she says, raising her glass.

“Here we are.” I tap mine against hers before we simultaneously knock back the rest of our drinks. “Can I get you a refill or something else?” I ask, setting my empty glass down.

Pressing her front teeth into her lower lip, she gnaws on the dark-pink flesh, as if she’s unsure what to say.

“What do you want?” I press for her to answer.

She places her glass on the coffee table, turns toward me, and mischievously lowers her eyebrows. “I’ll give you a clue. It’s definitely not another drink.”

I wrap a hand around the back of Mae’s head and pull our mouths together again.

She casually crawls into my lap, straddling me as our greedy tongues reunite.

I thread my fingers through her long hair. It’s soft as silk as it slides over my skin.

Cradling my head in her hands, she gently massages along my scalp, driving me mad.

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