Page 6 of Date with A D*ck

He leans slightly closer, his gaze steady, unreadable. “I said, have a good night.” The corners of his mouth twitch in what might have been a smirk. “You’ve been uneasy ever since I caught you poking around in my office.”

“I wasn’tgoing throughyour office!” The protest tumbles out, mortified and defensive all at once.

“Oh?” He arches a brow, tilting his head. “Then what would you call it?”

“I was just... observing. You know, looking at the things that were out in the open. Going through implies opening drawers, rummaging around—I wasn’t doing any of that!” My voice wavers as I scramble to justify myself, the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck.

He grunts, a low, throaty sound that vibrates in the air between us, and for a beat, we just stand there. His eyes—sharp, penetrating—never leave mine, and the weight of his scrutiny presses down on me. My pulse quickens, but I force myself to remember who I am.I don’t chase. I don’t beg.

Snapping out of the moment, I spin on my heels with purpose, fishing my fob from my purse. The quiet chirp of the car unlocking feels like a small victory. I reach for the handle, determined to leave with my pride intact.

But before my fingers touch the cool metal, his hand engulfs mine. Warm, strong, and undeniably commanding.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, his voice low, edged with something I can’t quite name. A question? A demand?

I barely have time to register his words before he’s pulling me back, his grip firm yet gentle, his steps confident. The world narrows to the sensation of his touch and the heat radiating from his body as we retrace our path to the restaurant.

I hastily hit the lock symbol on my fob, hearing the answering chirp letting me know the doors are locked once again, seconds before the restaurant door clicks shut behind us, and with a flick of his wrist, he locks it, the sound of the bolt sliding home reverberating in the quiet space. The lights go out, plunging us into a dim, shadowy world. His presence seems larger in the darkness, and my breath catches as he guides me back to his office, each step deliberate, each moment steeped in tension.

I should say something—demand an explanation, assert control. But my lips won’t move, and my body seems to have a mind of its own, drawn along in his wake, anticipation curling low and tight in my belly.

CAUGHT

Keke

As soon as we walk into his office, all nervousness disappears. I want this. And I want it with him.

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I say, tracking his movement around the room with my eyes.

“You do,” he says simply.

“He left,” I responded, no need to waste time playing stupid.

“How long has it been?”

“A few months,”

“And you are already on the hunt? Someone to scratch your itch?”

“I am,” I tell him, resting my hip against the heavy chair facing his desk.

“He deserves no loyalty from you I guess,” he says, taking his chef jacket off, revealing a t-shirt that hugs every sinewy muscle. His chef pants are hanging low on his hips and I can just imagine the V hiding under his clothes. “Tell me–” he says, pulling my mind out of his pants, “how do you like it? Hmm? Fast and hard? Slow and soft, or nasty and dirty?” He continues to disrobe making my mouth water with each inch of flesh hereveals. I blink when he disappears through a door I didn’t even notice, but his voice reaches me over the distance.

“You may be ready to fuck yourself back to life but I need a shower. You can join me or you can stay here and prepare yourself, trust me you are going to need to be ready. I too haven’t fucked in a couple of months and I am eager to make up for lost time.”

Is he serious? He talks like it is a barter system situation going on.“I am used to above average,” I assure him. His laughter grazes my ears, and my jaw seizes tight, teeth pressing together until they ache. “Is there something I am not aware of that is funny?”

“Come here,” he demands and my feet are in motion before my mind registers that I am moving. As soon as he is in my sights my jaw drops, there he stands in all his naked glory looking like he came off an X-rated magazine. He is a work of art, he could be sculpted, painted and photographed and it would not be enough. He is wasted as a chef: he should definitely be a stripper or gigolo or something. I don’t miss an inch of his body but my eyes come to a screeching halt on the long, thick and heavy dick swinging between his thighs. My god!

“Give me your eyes,” he commands but it takes herculean strength to tear my eyes away from his dick to look at his smirking face. And just like that I am annoyed again. “Take a shower with me.”Another command,I think as he turns and walks his naked ass in the shower. How can a back be that sexy and the knife that covers his back has my tongue itching to trace the blade. A few seconds later the sound of water snaps me out of my daydream and I begin getting undressed. Thank god I went to get waxed or I would be looking like an Ewok. It only takes seconds to get naked, and before I know it, I’m walking into the stall with him.In for a penny in for a pound.Too late to turn back now,I think when he grabs me, pulling me deeper intothe shower but he angles me to not wet my hair. “I hope you don’t mind smelling like a man, at least until you can get home,” he says, squeezing a generous dollop of his body wash on a net sponge and washing me with it. I have taken a shower with my estranged husband before and have even been washed by him but this is one of the most intimate experiences I have ever had.

He somehow managed to dim the lights and turn on some music and how the hell did I miss the candles. Avant’s Grown Man plays in the background as he strokes me, washing me.

“This is a beautiful body, lush and full. I am going to enjoy pushing you to the limit tonight kitten.” He pushes me against the glass shower wall as he rubs the cloth across my back. “Hands up and keep them there.” He is everywhere and I am holding on by a thread. He’s washed my back, legs, ass, and moved to my front, and by the time he reached my breasts the cloth is nowhere to be found. His hands lift my tits, rubbing them, squeezing them and I squeeze my thighs to try to get some relief from the ache spreading throughout my body.

But it’s when his hands start their downward ascent that I give up any semblance of pride, as the first “please,” spills from my lips.

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