“That’s it? ‘Because?’” I ask, exasperated. “You know, Aspen, life isn’t about doing everything by yourself. Don’t you want someone to share things with? Bounce ideas off of? Do things together?” I say and bump her hip again, hoping to make her smile. “Like this!” I say and gesture to the counter full of unfinished pies. “This is fun!”
Ignoring me, she walks over to the stove where her cherry filling is cooling, and she stirs it. She grabs a tasting spoon, dips it into the sauce, and brings it up to her mouth to taste. My blood simmers as I watch her put the spoon between her delicious, full lips. She closes her eyes like she’s tasting something wonderful, and I fantasize that she’s licking my semen off that spoon. Damn. I should’ve turned the air conditioning even cooler.
She comes back over to me, and I shake my head to clear the mental image.
“Apart from turning down your investment,” she continues, “your flirting is over the top. And so, there’s already a conflict. And it’s distracting.”
I smile. I like where this might be going. She might see the distraction as a bad thing, but that just means she likes me. “But I’m going to marry you someday, so there’s that,” I slip into the conversation, in case she had forgotten.
“Ha! I have zero time for any man, let alone a husband,” she says, not giving it a second thought. No matter. I’ll keep watering the seed I’ve planted.
She continues, “This restaurant with my mom, and now the bed-and-breakfast… getting it set up, I’ll be busier than ever.”
“What about your longer-term plan, Aspen? Where do you see yourself in a few years? This isn’t living… what you’re doing, always running so ragged… it’s not sustainable. It’s not good business. It’s not even healthy.”
She whips her head in my direction, “First, you’re in no position to talk, Mr. I Do Nothing. You know nothing about me or my life. And not that it’s any of your business,” she spits, gaining speed, “but, in a couple years, when everything’s up and running, and successful, I’ll still be too busy. I don’t need a man to be happy!”
She returns to working on her pies, her movements rushed and fiery from the momentum of our conversation, but still controlled, like the expert she is. She drapes the crusts over the pie plates, and then growls and huffs, “Ryker, I don’t plan on being alone forever. Once I’m financially independent, I’ll consider letting a man into my life. Maybe. The point is that, if he and I ever end up divorced, I’ll be secure.”
“That’s not the right attitude going into a marriage, Aspen,” I say, disappointed.
“Oh, and you’re an expert? As though you wouldn’t protect your billions, with a prenup.”
“No way. If I need a prenup, it’s not true love. I’m marrying for life. Marrying you, remember?”
She ignores me, like totally, and I don’t even know if she heard me.
“Anyway, Aspen,” I say, getting her attention again. “That’s a long time to go without enjoying a companion of the opposite sex.” This makes her look up at me.
She barks a laugh, and then sighs. “What’s another couple of years added to the last two?”
Well, that answers that question. I’d been wondering, and I’m pleased, knowing she hasn’t been with anyone in a long time. I have no right to care… she’s not even mine—yet—but the thought of her with another man makes me sick. Though, I also have to wonder about her years-long abstinence. Women have needs. Does she not get horny? I begin to wonder when the last time was she had an orgasm, and I involuntarily visualize her masturbating. Quit it, dude, this isn’t helping. I snap out of it and refocus my attention on what she’s saying.
“I just don’t have time, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I have so many things to do,” she says.
It’s time to lighten things up. “Will you add me to that list of things to do?” I say and turn to face her, smiling, but she keeps her face forward. I expect her to laugh or shove me away, but she swallows hard, instead. Then she turns to face me, determination in her eyes, but I also see fire behind them. And then… a flirtatious twinkle lights them up…
She reaches over and grabs the commercial-size box of cherries. She tilts it to the side and a few straggler cherries roll to the middle. She grabs two of them, their stems still intact. She holds one up in front of me and says, “OK, Ryker. Here’s the deal.” She plucks the stems out of each of them and hands one stem to me, keeping one for herself.
“If you can tie this cherry stem into a knot, using only your mouth, before I do, you can kiss me.”
Whaaaat?
My cock jumps to life. I have no idea what she’s up to.
“Seriously? All I have to do is tie this cherry stem into a knot with my tongue before you do?” I narrow my eyes at her. “Wait, I have a feeling you’re good at this.” And that makes me think about her tongue working a stem into a knot. Fuck me.
15
Ryker
“Go!” I say to her, not giving it a second thought, and I throw the cherry stem into my mouth. Aspen does the same, and I work at my stem, not taking my eyes off her. But she meets my eyes, hers filled with determination, and I’m trying not to smile because it makes it harder to use my mouth. I want to laugh, but I need to win! I try to distract myself by looking around the bistro’s kitchen instead of her sensuous mouth working its magic, but I can’t help it. My eyes dig back into hers.
Fuck, this is hard! I think I tried it in a bar once, in college, but can’t remember how it ended.
