Page 50 of Mistaken Intention

She’s near enough that I could easily reach out and pull her into my arms. I want to, so badly. Not just because she’s doing crazy things to my body, but because I need to feel something real… something true. My cock still hasn’t recovered from that first moment I saw her come out of her room in her tight t-shirt, and having her this close is driving me insane. It’s painful, too… but it’s a pain I could learn to live with, and I inch closer.

The coffee machine beeps, and she looks away, breaking the moment.Dammit.

“Oh, look. It worked.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m a man… it’s a machine…”

“Yeah, and that’s usually a recipe for disaster,” she says, and I laugh. She joins in, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a sip. “Oh… oh, that’s very good.”

“I guess I’d better make myself one, then.”

“Yeah, you had.” She cradles the cup. “This one’s mine… all mine.”

“Okay, but remember, I’m the one who knows how to use the machine, so if you want more coffee, be nice to me.”

“I’ll always be nice to you.”

I really hope she means that, as does my aching cock.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, looking over at Josie.

We’re sitting in the living room, both of us on our second cup of coffee, but my stomach keeps rumbling.

“I am a little. Would you like me to make something?”

“Do we have food?”

She nods her head. “Hunter’s had the kitchen stocked up, and before he left to go back to the main house, he said I should just let him know when we need anything.”

I nod my head, and she gets up, walking into the kitchen. I follow and between us, we establish that there’s enough food here to feed an army.

“I don’t know what I like,” I say, turning to face her.

“Why don’t I just make us something simple for today, and we’ll worry about likes and dislikes tomorrow?”

“Okay, but can I help at all? I mean… I don’t know whether I can cook, but I seem to have a nice enough kitchen, and I can’t imagine it was put in purely as a home for the coffee machine.”

She smiles. “I’m sure you can cook, but it’s been a tiring day for you. You need to rest.”

She’s not wrong. I feel exhausted, but rather than returning to the living room, I sit at the kitchen table and watch her work.

“Do you have a family?” I ask, as she gathers ingredients… an onion, some garlic, spices, tomatoes, broccoli. Her hands are full, and she looks up at me, frowning.

“No, but why do you ask?”

“Because I’m wondering how you’re able to just drop everything and come live with me.”

Her frown fades, a smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, I see.”

“We’re two of a kind, really.”

“Are we?”

“Yeah. You don’t have any family… and even if I do, I don’t know who they are.”

She sets down all the ingredients on the countertop, turning to face me again, her smile widening. “I guess…”

She stands for a moment, just staring at me… and I stare back. Within seconds, she comes to her senses, like she’s scolding herself for daydreaming, and turns around to prepare our meal. I don’t take my eyes from her, though. I stare at the back of her head, at the way her hair is held up in a loose arrangement, a few strands hanging down her neck, which in itself is a thing of beauty. Pale and slender, I want to brushthose stray hairs aside and kiss her at that point where her neck meets her shoulder. I want to let my hands roam over her body, discovering every curve, my lips following close behind. She’ll taste sweet. I know she will and I groan at the thought of unlocking her innermost secrets… with my tongue.

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