Page 39 of Hawk

“Hush, I’m cleaning my pussy,” he whispers, nipping my earlobe. His fingers work my pussy, then he begins finger fucking me. My body moves in rhythm with his hand until I shudder and moan out my second orgasm. “Fuck me, baby. I could do this all night just to hear you come,” he murmurs. I’m too exhausted to do anything but let him rinse me off.

Slowly, he slides open the shower stall door and helps me out, wrapping a towel around me. “Check on dinner, Ginger. I’ll be out in a minute.”

I gasp. I completely forgot I had food in the oven! I hightail it out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I wrestle on a robe and rush out to the kitchen. I don’t smell anything burning. I open the oven door, silently praying that our dinner is edible. Although, even if it weren’t, it would still have been totally worth it.

The chicken smells heavenly, and the potatoes are perfect. I take both trays out of the oven and set them aside. As I’m about to go put on some clothes, Hawk comes out of the bedroom wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He looks just as good with clothes on as he does with them off.

“I’ll get changed, then we can eat,” I say as I try to brush past him, only to have him reach out and grab me by the wrist to stop me from moving away.

“I like you looking just like that.” He hauls me up close so that we’re pressed together.

That’s so sweet, considering my hair is dripping wet and a tangled mess. I’m barefoot and wearing nothing but an old terry-cloth robe cinched at the waist. Who am I to deny him? I decide. And instead, I kiss his jaw.

“Okay. Let me get our dinner on the table,” I respond.

He drops a kiss on my lips and releases me. “What can I do?”

“There’s wine and beer in the fridge. Could you get the drinks?” We work together in the kitchen. Hawk reaches above me to grab the glasses as I plate the chicken and potatoes. He takes the plates from my hands and sets them on the table as I take out the salad and dress it with my homemade dressing.

Hawk is waiting for me, but he’s made some minor adjustments to my table setting. He’s moved my place setting so now I’m sitting right next to him. He holds out my chair, and as he tucks me in, his lips find a sensitive spot on my neck.

He sits down and says, “This looks fantastic, Etain.” My chest swells with pride, and when he takes the first bite and moans his approval, I feel like I’m walking on a cloud. “This is great, babe. Thanks for making me dinner. I can’t remember the last time someone made me a proper dinner.”

“I like to cook. I forgot how much until tonight,” I admit. “My mother’s a great cook. My sister and I learned from her. Does your mom like to cook?”

“I’m not sure if my mother knows how to use a stove,” he jokes. I giggle. “But she sure as hell knows how to complain if it isn’t to her liking.”

“I want you to meet my parents. They’re awesome, and Dad will take you out to his favorite fishing hole and talk your ear off.”

“Fishing, huh? Never been.”

“Dad says the only thing better than fishing is being with Mom,” I say. “When I see them together, it reminds me of how love should be. They may not have a whole lot of money, but they have each other.”

“Money comes and goes, baby. Means nothing to have it if you don’t have someone to share it with.”

Once we finish dinner, Hawk insists on doing the dishes while I laze on the couch, still in my robe. I twist to rest my chin on the back of the couch, watching as Hawk rinses the last dish. When he’s done, he comes over to sit beside me. He pulls my legs up on his lap and begins to rub my feet.

It dawns on me, Robert never took the time to take care of me. It was always me trying to make Robert’s life easier.

“What’s that look on your face?” he asks.

“You’re taking care of me.”

He gives me a quizzical expression. “Go on.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something.”

“Not really.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“The last time my feet got this kind of attention, I had to pay a masseuse,” I kid. But Hawk isn’t laughing.

“He never took the time to care for you,” he states. Hawk has it all figured out. He knows Robert never gave me the attention I craved. “He took all the goodness and never gave. He’s a selfish prick.”

“He’s gone, honey,” I murmur.

---