Sweetest Mistress (Fem Dom 1)

Chapter One

She was out of my league. That was my first thought as the door swung open. A black dress clung to her curves, backlit by the foyer light. I got the impression of glossy dark hair, ruby lips, and wide eyes before my mind glossed the whole image with a haze of lust.

Not for the likes of me. If she were a nine, I was a paltry four. Men like me were lucky if a woman like her came into the office to get her taxes done. I’d talk to her about deductibles and investments during the day, and then jerk off to the curve of breast bared by her blouse or the hint of thigh that sloped steep into her skirt.

The whole thing was pointless, hopeless, but I’d give it my best try. When Justin Verlander threw you a pitch, the least you could do was swing.

I hadn’t spoken, which was stupid. “Hi,” I said, even more stupidly. “I’m Wyle. You know that, sorry. Who else would show up at eight o’clock on Saturday night?”

Ugh, why had I said that? I’d only meant that we had a date, but what you didn’t do was ask a hot girl about what other guys came to her apartment.

She laughed, a tinkle of a sound. “Hey. I’m Melissa. You probably know that, too.”

“I’d hoped so.” I tried to laugh, too. “Should we go?”

“Of course.” She turned back to grab her coat and purse, showing me even more curvy backside before following me out to my car.

The low sound of her voice, the way she glanced down as she spoke, her whole soft, curvy pose turned me on, which was even more inappropriate when I thought about what she must be thinking. Her stance probably wasn’t shyness, but revulsion. Or it could have been annoyance, more charitably. Nothing approaching the instant lust I felt for her.

She was probably thinking up all the things she’d tell Joanna about never setting her up on blind dates again. I was thinking Joanna would get a dozen roses tomorrow regardless of how this date turned out, just for the kindness of thinking I had a shot with her. But then, mothers could be blind that way, even step-mothers.

I drove her to the restaurant, trying to ignore the slim lines of her thighs on my seat. I dated enough. Maybe even more than I should. But I liked sex, and hookups didn’t come easily to me for multiple reasons, so I dated. But the thighs that sat on that seat were never so slim or as long as those.

I put my hand on the small of her back as we entered the restaurant. Just that small touch and I wanted to drive her back home right now. But what was I thinking? If I drove her home – when I drove her home – nothing would happen. Assuming she would ever put out for me, which I doubted, she’d make me work for it with multiple dates, at least. I wouldn’t mind. That was standard operating procedure, so I had to get my mind out of the gutter.

We sat down and looked through the menus.

I set mine down. “Have you decided?”

“I’m thinking of the porterhouse.”

Damn. It had been ages since a woman had ordered something other than a salad or maybe fish. Definitely not steak. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it was kind of a turn on.

Her lips curled slightly. “You’re surprised I’m not ordering a salad?”

“Of course not,” I lied.

“Oh, I’ve heard it all before. But I say if you’re going to eat, you might as well eat.”

“I agree completely. You don’t have to worry about that with me.” That was for damn sure. If she could eat like that and maintain those curves…well, ruining them in any way would be a crime. “Joanna said you’d just moved to the area.”

“Yes.” She paused. “Well, I lived here before, but moved away for college.”

I gulped. Exactly how young was she? And how could I ask that without getting kicked in the balls? “Why did you decide to move back?”

“Oh, I worked out there for a few years after I graduated, but Detroit is my hometown.”

“I like it here, too,” I said, sparing her a wry smile. Detroit wasn’t the kind of city that you loved, really, but it was home. “Lived here all my life.”

“I know.”