Page 53 of The Sweet Spot

“How do you know that Jill put me up to this?”

“Because you don’t know Wolseley that well, and I sure as hell know you don’t care how things are going between us.”

“Fair enough. I do appreciate the answers. I’m expected to report back.”

If Tangi had asked Ethan to gather intel, he certainly didn’tmake an effort, which in the grand scheme of things, really didn’t matter. We were all set to have our Thanksgiving dinner the next day, so Wolseley’s friends could see it all live. I couldn’t wait to tell Wolseley all about the grilling when I got home, but she wasn’t there. Instead, she’d left me a note to say she’d see me later and that she had to pick up groceries for her dinner party. Lunch was in the fridge.

I ate and took a nap because I rarely slept on planes. When I got up a few hours later, I could hear the distant sound of kitchen noises. Chopping of some kind. Low murmurs. Delia must have been with her. My stomach grumbled, and I checked my watch. I’d missed lunch. I heaved myself out of bed and found Wolseley and Delia in the kitchen. Today, Wolseley was explaining how to make the perfect loaf of bread.

“It’s all about the sweet spot,” she said. She detailed the perfect balance to make the yeast sing or something like that. She then moved on to sourdough and how that process went, although neither seemed overly interested in tackling that. I made a quick protein shake, and that was when Wolseley left Delia to knead the dough and threw together my power bowl. It looked packed with brown rice, avocado, yams, and a whole slew of vegetables. She topped it with my favorite teriyaki tofu.

She returned her attention to Delia and decided that the dough now needed to proof. They placed it in the warm oven and moved on to cranberry sauce. Only then did I realize they were prepping for tomorrow.

“Have you ever made pumpkin pie?” she asked Delia.

“No, but I’ve eaten a lot of them.”

“Well, we are going to cheat and use regular pumpkin in a can, not the pie filling, just regular pumpkin because good luck finding a pumpkin that will be good enough. But we are making the crust and some enhancements to the pumpkin puree.”

“Can I help?” I asked.

Delia and Wolseley looked at me as if I’d asked them if I could piss in the pie. They then looked at each other, and Wolseley gave a nod.

“Yes, but you can’t slow us down. I only have Delia for another hour.”

I’d been on my own a long time, so I’d picked up a few skills in the kitchen. Nothing that would make me chef quality, but I could mix, chop, sear, and sauté with the best of them. So Wolseley put me to work. She didn’t trust me enough with any Thanksgiving prep, but I was chopping mushrooms, carrots, and broccoli for some kind of vegetable side dish she had planned for me and Ryan. She moved me on to the dreaded onions and garlic next. Delia left for her afternoon deliveries and would be back to pick up Ryan’s meals.

“I thought she’d never leave,” I said overdramatically. “Can we screw around now?”

Wolseley looked faux-offended. “I’m working. What kind of person slacks off on the job?”

I moved in closer to her, pushing some of the longer platinum blonde bangs from her face. “What if I talk to your boss? Tell him you deserve a break?”

“I don’t know. He’s pretty mean. He makes me work long hours on my feet all day.”

“He’s such an asshole. Tell you what, if he gives you any trouble, he’ll have to answer to me.”

She looked around the kitchen. “All right, but maybe I should?—”

I swept her up into my arms, and she shrieked. I brought her to my bedroom and kicked open the door. I had her out of her clothes in seconds and focused my attention on worshiping her perfect breasts. Her hands were furiously working on my jeans, and we were all tied up in each other. I had to fix this. Reluctantly, I left her breasts for just a moment to struggleout of my jeans and shirt. My boxers were last, and when I got back onto the bed with her, her hands found my semi-erect cock. She pushed me down on my back and straddled me, reaching for my nightstand and a condom. I played with her coveted breasts again, as she rubbed her wetness across my now-throbbing cock.

“When I was in India, I bought a copy of theKama Sutra,” she said. “I didn’t think to bring it to Vancouver, but I’m sure I can find a copy around here. Would you be interested in exploring the contents of that book with me?” she asked, lining her entrance to my cock.

“I think I can be persuaded,” I said, catching my breath as she took my cock in her hand and guided it inside her tight pussy. Wolseley was a glorious vise.

“I know a few from memory,” she said, her voice trailing off to a moan. “But I think we’ll start with this one.”

She tortured me as she slowly took all of me in. I had no idea how long I’d be able to keep this up. I think she liked the control, and I loved giving it up to her. I just didn’t want to come too soon.

She picked up the pace a little, but after a few minutes, it was too much for me. I sat up, and she giggled as I kissed her, then had her on her back. I pushed her knees up to her chest and fucked her like it would be the last time.

“Don’t stop,” she said.

I kept going for as long as I could, and when I came, I let out a grunt that was matched with Wolseley’s shriek. Fuck, we were good in bed together. We were good everywhere together.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get Wolseley to stay the night. She said she had so much to do the next day, and something about a turkey stressing her out. So I slept alone, told her Icould manage my own breakfast and lunch—she still sent Delia over with food—and then went to practice, another strength-training day. We didn’t have another game until Saturday night, so Coach Anthony was kind enough to have an optional skate Friday. He made a joke that we could all spend the day Black Friday shopping.

I got home and tried to nap, but Thanksgiving had me thinking about Christmas, and that meant I had to tell Wolseley about my parents, and my parents about Wolseley. I hated the idea of both things.

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