Page 49 of Operation Annulment
I slide one hand lower, and she stops me. “Wait. You said we were going to take it slow.”
I groan against her neck. “That was before I saw you doing that.” She can’t expect me to think rationally after that performance. All the blood is in my dick.
“So, ask me something.” I move my hand lower, and her voice goes shaky. “Um, get to know me.”
I nip at her earlobe. “Oh, I am getting to know you. Let’s try this—you asked me for my favorite food earlier. What’s yours?”
I slide one finger inside of her, and she moans again. “I—I like—um?—”
I slow my movements. “C’mon, Katy girl. Don’t keep me in suspense.”
She nods, and I resume. “O-okay. I like chicken parmesan—god, I like it—but only if it’s homemade.”
I press a light kiss against her temple. “Good girl. See, that was easy.” Then I press my thumb into her core, teasing her until she cries out.
Kate goes lax on me, and I have to use my right arm to keep her upright. I maneuver us out of the direct spray of the showerhead, and she looks up at me again, her voice hoarse. “What’s your least favorite food? I feel like a wife should know this.”
I smile. “See, this is more of a third-date conversation. Where were we on our third date?”
“Bent over my desk at work, I think.”
I nod. Sounds about right. “Okay, right. Um, what was the question?”
She giggles. “Least favorite food.”
“Right. I fucking hate cilantro, so anything that has cilantro in it is out. Everything else is fair game. What’s yours?”
She thinks it over, and I wait until she opens her mouth to speak before sliding my finger back inside her body. “H-hey, that’s cheating. I didn’t mess with you.”
“You could have. I wasn’t stopping you.”
I lick along her shoulder, loving the way she tastes. I hope like hell that she’ll still be mine in fifty-eight days, but if not, I want to walk away having put my mouth on every square inch of her.
She leans back into me and closes her eyes.
“Katy girl… least favorite food. Go.”
“Uh-huh. Food—okay. You can’t laugh. Promise?”
I laugh. “No promises.”
This is going to be good.
“I cannot stand mashed potatoes. I loathe them?—”
I cut her off. “That’s not funny or weird. A bit anticlimactic…”
She grabs my hand, slowing my movements. “If you just give me a second, I could tell you the rest. I hate mashed potatoes, but I love French fries. Isn’t that strange?”
The water goes cold, and I shut it off before answering her. “What a freak.”
“Jerk.” She tries to swat at my arm, but I dodge it.
“I’m kidding. That’s not all that odd. It’s a texture thing for you. How do you do with oatmeal?”
“I love it.”
I pop the door open and step out before replying, “That is fucking weird then.” I laugh as I grab a couple of towels, stopping short when her hand connects with my still painfully hard dick.
