“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”
“Caramel.”
She put her hand on his knee. It was a backbeat in his chest. “Favorite food?”
“All the Asian ones.” She trailed that hand up his thigh to rest on his hip and she shifted closer, placing a kiss on his shoulder.
“Favorite color?”
“Black.” She climbed across his lap, the T-shirt hitching so he got to see her thighs and a flash of the white silky stuff of her undies.
“Do you have any pets?”
She put both hands to his chest, thumbs rubbing across his nipples. “No. I work long hours. It wouldn’t be fair.”
The moves she was putting on him now—more than fair. “If you didn’t, what would you have?”
“A dog.” She bent forward and flickered her tongue over his right nipple. “A cat.” And his left one.
He put his hand to the back of her head, tangled his fingers in her hair. It was getting harder to think because she was pressed against his dick and she was kissing her way up his chest and neck and along his jaw to his ear. A thousand sensitive places that sent out flares to the rest of his body that good things were going down.
“Mena, honey.”
She stilled. “That’s not a question.”
“Did you have an imaginary friend growing up?” Shit, where did that come from? Desperation sure dug deep.
She laughed and took his earlobe between her teeth. It hit him like an electric shock, making his whole body jerk, while he rocked her hips in a slow dry-hump.
She stilled again, though she couldn’t stop her tremble. “I didn’t have an imaginary friend but I’m guessing you did.”
“Yeah. Big Dave. He was cooler than me. Not afraid of food.” He urged her on with hands on her arse. “Please don’t stop, Mena, please don’t fucking stop.”
“I need a question.” She rolled her hips, arched her back.
More of her weight was directly on him and his knees widened, his hips lifted. “Ever been married?”
“No.” She took the T-shirt off.
He got his hands all over her skin and her bra undone. “Engaged?” The bra was gone and he palmed her breasts, thumbed her nipples.
She pushed into his hands, rode his cock and groaned. “No.”
“How long ago was your last serious relationship.”
“Ages. It ended badly. He was a tool.”
He pulled her forward and put his face between her breasts, breathed the pretty scent of her skin, remembered an earlier question he hadn’t asked in sequence like it was divine intervention. “If you weren’t an investment advisor, what would you be?”
She pushed against him to separate and stand between his legs. “I don’t know.”
She was flushed and tousled and so fucking hot and not touching him. “That’s not a satisfactory answer.”
She leaned over and undid his pants. Fuck the question. She pulled him out and went to her knees and then stopped.
“Christ.” Her hands weren’t anywhere on him. “When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
“I read a lot about music and art. I wanted to be a muse. I thought that was a real job.”
She pulled him out and wrapped her hand around him and his skull hit the back of the sofa. “It could be a real job.”
“You can’t look up the salary range for muse and there’s no union.”
He wanted to flex into her hand, he wanted her mouth. He was leaking over her fingers. She was his financial muse. She could easy be his sexual one. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”
“Lied to someone who deserved the truth.” She put her lips around his Albert and tugged lightly while she rolled his balls in her hand.
“Oh fuck.”
Then she swallowed his cockhead. It was an enormously satisfactory answer, until she stopped and took her mouth away.
“Have you ever been crazy about anyone?” Had he already asked that? Any question would do.
“Yes.” She licked him, waggled the Albert, ran her open lips over his rigid shaft.
“Who?”
“Pass.”
Didn’t expect that. Didn’t give a fuck, because he was close and she was sucking on him, her cheeks working, saliva making everything wetter, her pupils blown out, eyes up on his, her hand in her own pants.
“You love giving head.” Not a question but she made a sound in agreement and it trickled all the way up his spine and over his head, a shower of sparkles and he lost control, jetting into the perfect soft warmth of her mouth, his hands in her hair and legs clamping around her kneeling form.
He was the one who was crazy about someone.
He used the T-shirt to clean them both up. Pouring her water from the pitcher on the coffee table and bringing her back to the sofa where she curled at his side.
“I’d almost completely lost interest in sex for sex’s sake,” she said, “now I’m thinking it is a defining characteristic, because I am sex obsessed about you.”
Maybe the most satisfactory answer of all. He kissed her slightly sweaty forehead as she laid it on his shoulder. In fairness the game was over, had reached an explosive conclusion but he still had questions. He might always have questions for her.
“What made you kiss me like that?”
There’d been hundreds of kisses she might not know what he meant, and he wasn’t sure he could explain it.
“Because you’re important to me.” She traced the lines of the vines on his arm. “Because I’m glad I’m with you. Because when I came here this was meant to be goodbye. I wasn’t going to see you again after this weekend, but I took one look at you and knew I couldn’t do that. Because I wonder if we might
