Page 67 of Rectify

“Don’t.” I stop her, placing a finger on her lips. “I wanted to do something nice for you. Accept it.”

“Yes, sir,” she murmurs against my finger.

“Save that obedience for later,” I taunt. “I have plans.”

The elevator stops, and I shift behind her. Pulling out the blindfold from my pocket, I put it over her eyes with no warning.

Her fingers skate over the material. “Are we playing a fifty shades game?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie. I lift her dress up and smack her lace covered arse, just to add to her confusion. “Walk.”

I cup the back of her neck and guide her to our designated area. Her heels click on the tiles, slow and steady, her balance a little off centre because of the blindfold.

“Wait here.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just give me a second and do as I say.”

Pushing open the thick, steel doors, I secure them to their appropriate latches and scan the room; checking it’s all in place.

Standing behind her, I untie the blindfold and let it fall.

A client in Melbourne is venturing out into the restaurant business, and is opening one here in sydney. It’s been under renovation up until a week ago, and I managed to pull some strings to get it open for us, and us only.

We’re standing in the middle of the brand new stainless steel kitchen, with ingredients I prepped earlier to finally be able to return the favour and cook for Sasha.

“Are we the only ones in here?” she asks in awe.

I wrap my arms protectively around her waist, and place my chin on her shoulder. “Just you and me, baby.”

She twists in my arms, and peppers me with kisses of gratitude. I hoist her up in my arms and walk her to the shiny clean bench. Thanking me in all the ways that matter, Sasha rubs her centre up and down my covered erection.

“Food or Fuck?”

She glances at the bench scattered with different kinds of food and then back at me. “You’re cooking for me?”

I nod, self consciously.

“We can fuck later,” she answers.

“Do you want to watch me cook? Or would you rather I show you the view from where we’ll be eating?”

“There’s more?” The surprise on her face similar to that of a little kid.

“Of course. We’re not going to eat in the kitchen.”

She takes hold of my hand and unceremoniously jumps down. “Show me the view.”

We walk to the other end of the kitchen, and the doors automatically swing open.

“Holy shit,” she squeals the second the outlook comes into view. Having seen it before, I’m more than content to watch Sasha’s reaction.

Her eyes widen as they take in the vast expanse before us. It’s floor to ceiling glass windows that look out onto the Sydney Harbour. The Harbour Bridge looks close enough that you could just step out on to it.

“This is absolutely beautiful, Jay.”

Lost in the sight of her against this breathtaking backdrop, it’s impossible not to agree. “So fucking beautiful.”

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