Page 55 of Spinning Out Of Control

“I figured there’s no point in screwing around. I want to be with you, so I’m going to be with you everywhere. Is that okay? Should I not have kissed you?” I feel confident, but my voice pitches up at the end of my question anyway–a nervous tick I’ve never been able to tame.

“Kira, I have been following you around like a lost puppy for weeks, just hoping that you’d throw me a scrap of attention. It is absolutely okay that you kissed me. Honestly, I hate it when you’renotkissing me. Ijust didn’t think you would want to tell people right away.”

He runs a hand over my cheek and I lean into his touch, feeling a bit like a needy cat with the way I nuzzle against him.

“I’m in this, Ren. I’m all in.” I say, turning my face to press a kiss against his palm.

“I’m all in too, darling,” he murmurs sweetly. And then, with the hand not holding my cheek, he spanks my ass,hard.

“That’s for bringing up the size of my cock in front of everyone. That’s something I only ever want to discuss with you, my precious little pest.”

He smooths his hand over the sore spot as a wave of arousal courses through me. I love the way he can be so sweet and so dirty all in the same breath.

“Then you might want to stay away from James. Apparently, he’s had some homoerotic thoughts about the piercings.”

Warren laughs as he leads me off the elevator and to his office.

“Trust me, I know. I think he and Amir were one bourbon away from asking me for a threesome the day they saw it in the steam room at the club.”

“Who asked for a threesome?” James asks, popping out of his office at the perfect time, and Ren and I barely make it into my office before bursting into a fit of giggles.

“It’s staringat me again, Kira.”

“He is a he, and he has a name, Warren.”

“I’m not calling it that ridiculous name.”

“Maybe if you show him some respect, he’ll stop staring at you.”

Ren glares at me from over his bowl of Pho Ga, slurping menacingly in my direction. But I won’t back down. We’ve had this same argument every night for a week and every night it ends the same way. I feel for his fish aversion. I really do. The more I’ve gotten to know Ren and his not-so-stellar upbringing since New York, the more I’ve wanted to buy a Ouija board just so I could summon his father and slap his ghost face. But I love my son, and I won’t put a blanket over his tank to placate anyone.

Not even the man I’ve been quickly falling head over heels for.

“Pancakes,” Ren says through gritted teeth. “Could you please not stare at me while I’m eating my dinner?”

I glance over to the tank on its stand below the mounted TV, smiling when my smart little fishy blows a bubble and swims away to the back of his tank. He settles between the stems of his water wisteria, and I cock my head at Ren.

“See, babe? A little respect goes a long way. And you know, you have a house, too. Why do you insist on spending every night here if you’re just going to bitch about Pancakes the whole time?”

I lift my own bowl of pho to my mouth, sipping the last of my soup before placing the bowl on the coffee table.

Ren has a beautiful penthouse in Cow Hollow. I've been there a few times, keeping him company while he picks up clothes and checks his mail. And while we haven’t spent a night there yet, he did bend me over his couch and fuck me in front of the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bay one night.

Watching lights twinkle on the water while Ren pounded into me was certainly a ten out of ten experience.

“Kira, darling, look around you. Look at this place. How could I want to be anywhere else? All the light and color and the way everything smells like lemons. Even that damned fish…my house is just that–a house. But this, you brilliant woman, this is a home.”

I take in his words, looking around at the living room at the sherbet colored walls lined with photographs, the plants hanging from the ceiling and the prism film on the windows that makes the whole place feel like the inside of a disco ball when the light of the afternoon sun reflects off of them.

He’s right, this place is a home. It’s my home, just like it had once been Meadow’s home. And when I lookat the man curled up across from me on the couch with his legs tucked under a rainbow crocheted blanket, I realize that I desperately want it to beourhome someday.

“And besides, I know you. If we were to stay the night at my place, you’d insist on bringing the damn fish with you. I’d say no, absolutely not, and you’d pout and stomp your foot and say something bratty and rude. That would cause me to become insatiably horny and unable to think because you know how much it turns me on when you’re mean to me. I’d have to lay on top of you and fuck you until we both scream, and before I know it, Pancakes has his own room at my penthouse.

“Now,” he says, kicking off the blanket and setting his bowl on the table next to mine. “Come here and help me hide from the scary betta fish, yeah?” He lays back, resting his head on the arm of the couch and pats his chest. Just like I thought, our little argument is going to end the same way it always does–with me sitting on Ren’s face until he’s had his fill of me.

Spoiler alert: He never gets his fill of me, and I always wind up tapping out first.

I shimmy out of my panties and crawl across the couch, positioning myself over his awaiting mouth. Ren grips my thighs, pulling me down and getting right to work. There’s no teasing, no build-up. His tongue finds its target immediately, flicking my clit in rapid succession and working me into a desperate frenzy. I grindmyself down on his mouth and fuck his face, wanting this first orgasm fast and rough. Since this has become our nightly routine, I’ve gotten over any worry that I might accidentally suffocate him.

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