Page 495 of S is for SEX

KELLI. Any woman with half of a heart would fall in lust with Erik Ead in a matter of minutes of being exposed to him. Initially, I fell in lust. Now, I sat in the kitchen as madly in love with him as any woman could be in love with anyone. No one could know Erik, actually know him, and not love him. Underneath that hard outer shell, he was as caring of a human being as has ever graced this earth.

People who don’t know of our relationship and our sexual preferences say Erik is cruel because of the sex that we practice. Erik is giving me what I want because he loves me. If I didn’t want it, he wouldn’t do it. He guides me, protects me, provides me with assurance, and explains things to me that I do not understand. He never mistreats me, or abuses me morally, mentally, or physically. He never harms me, or forces me to do anything I do not want to do.

Exclude the sex from our relationship, and Erik Ead is an angel.

An angel covered in muscles and tattoos.

He stood in front of the stove and made breakfast while I sipped coffee. He was wearing sweats, slippers, and no shirt. As he reached for the batter his bicep flexed and his back muscles twitched.

Squuueeeeeeee.

“Put on a shirt,” I said as I sipped my coffee.

Paul Thorn, Ain’t Love Strange played on the Ipod.

He looked over his right shoulder and squinted.

“Please?”

“You know I hate wearing shirts in the house, especially in the morning before I shower,” he responded.

“I can’t take it anymore. New house rule in my half of the house. Wear a shirt, or…” I tapped my finger on my lip and thought.

“Or fuck me if it’s off,” I said.

He laughed out loud.

“You said the first time we were in here, the night we broke in – that I could never wear a shirt again, ever,” he said over his shoulder.

He held up his arm and flexed his bicep.

Sweet baby Jesus.

“Things change. Rules change,” I responded.

“You’re adorable,” he said as he flipped the pancakes.

A small saucepan warmed up fresh maple syrup that Shakey brought back from a trip. I was excited to eat Erik’s special wheat pancakes and fresh syrup, but right now his biceps flexing, his back muscles twitching, and every available inch of his biker persona being covered in tattoos was just too much.

“I designate the kitchen mine,” I said as I stood from the chair.

“Yours?” he giggled.

“Yep. Mine. Prepare for the wrath of me,” I said as I walked his direction.

“You see me shaking?” he asked as he set the pancakes onto a plate with the others.

He covered the plate in aluminum foil.

“You’ll be shaking soon enough,” I laughed as I approached him.

He held the bowl of batter over the stove and reached for the spoon. I wedged myself between his waist and the stove. As he opened his arms to allow me room, I stood on my tip toes and kissed him.

“I love you, baby girl. Now scoot,” he said as he waved his hand that held the spoon.

Batter dripped onto my arm. I looked at the batter droplets and back at him. As he watched intently, I wiped the batter with my fingertip. I licked the batter from the tip of my finger with as much eroticism as I could. It tasted unnaturally sweet.

Leaning backward, still allowing me room to be between him and the stove, he stood and stared with his mouth open. He held the bowl in his left hand, and the wooden batter covered spoon in his other.

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