Love You Always

He told me that story when we had the whole Wear a condom conversation. His other advice was Don’t shit where you eat and Maybe don’t bang every woman that throws herself at you.

I quickly get dressed, wanting to get back to Kimmy. I don’t give a shit if I have to do it with Max there. I have to see her again. I think back to everything I’ve heard Max say about his sister before. Suddenly, every detail seems as if it’s the most important thing.

I know she can be a brat, she’s obsessed with fashion, and has been a bit sheltered. If you had listed off those things before about a woman and told me they were going to snag my attention, I would have told you to fuck off. But after meeting Kimmy, I’m singing a whole different tune.

I don’t know shit about fashion. I grew up on a farm, working the land until I took off for college on a scholarship. Max and I had ended up being roommates that first year. The man had an eye for investments and stocks. I’m really fucking good with numbers. They claim I’m a mathematical genius. That’s how I got into the fancy Ivy League college to begin with.

Numbers have always come easily to me. There is no changing the numbers. They are what they are. Sometimes they can be a puzzle that needs some work, but there is only one final destination. Between Max and me, we started making a killing.

When we weren't in class we were working our asses off on other projects. Projects that made us rich rather quickly. We’d basically set ourselves up for life before we even walked across that graduation stage.

“I’m not cooking. You cook.”

“I’m letting you stay here. Can’t I at least get a home-cooked meal?”

“And they call me the brat.” Kimmy lets out a huff.

“I’ll cook,” I say when I enter the kitchen. Kimmy’s eyes go wide as if she doesn’t believe that I can prepare a meal.

“You can cook?” Max gives me a skeptical look.

“Yeah, I can. I can do my own laundry and clean too.” I level him with a stare. “Brat.”

Kimmy bursts into laughter. The sound goes straight to my dick. Even her laugh is fucking sexy as hell. “I like your friend.” She wipes at her eyes as I start to cook. It’s not long before curiosity gets to my girl. She starts asking me all kinds of questions wanting to know my life story. Since I’m planning to be her husband very soon, I think it’s only fair I tell her whatever she wants to know.

As I cook I answer every question she asks. Max tosses in a few embarrassing stories, so I return the favor and toss in a few about him. Kimmy howls with laughter, saying she is going to tell their mom.

“Call me when dinner is done,” Max says as his phone starts to ring.

“Thank you for not saying anything to my brother.” She slips off the chair, coming over to inspect what I’m making. “Did your mom teach you how to cook? She sounds like a sweet Southern belle by the way you described her.”

“Yeah, she did. Said my future wife would thank her and maybe give her a few grandkids,” I tease, but as the words leave my mouth they sound fucking good for the first time. Now that I’ve met her.

“Right.” She bites her lip, turning away from me. I pull her back into me, nipping at her neck. These last few hours have been torture being unable to touch or taste her.

“Don’t lock your door tonight.” My hand slips up under her shirt.

“We’ll see how dinner turns out. That’ll determine whether I lock the door or not,” she tries to sass me. These little games might work with the preppy boys from her school but not with me. I give her bra a tug, making one of her tits fall out. I grab it, running my thumb across her nipple. She lets out a gasp as she presses her ass into my cock.

“You’ll leave the door unlocked. I’m going to be hungry for dessert, and I’m craving something in particular.” She doesn't respond, but her breathing is growing heavy. I pinch her nipple.

“Yes,” she says with a whimper.

“Good girl.” I fix her bra before I give her neck one more kiss. Unable to help myself, I give her ass a smack. She jumps, running back to her chair and glaring at me the whole way.

Fuck. I think I’m already in love.

3

Kimmy

I lie in my bed, unable to get comfortable. My eyes keep drifting to the door every few seconds like a crazy person. Has he changed his mind? Maybe once he got to know me a bit more this evening, he decided I’m not his type.