Kitchen Boss

I reach down just an inch above where our bodies are connected and find her nub. I stroke it with my thumb and her lips purse. Her eyelids fall shut. Her features twist in rapture.

Beautiful.

My cock quivers inside her but I make it wait as I focus on Cathy’s pleasure. With each swipe of my thumb, she seems to be inching closer and closer to its peak. Finally, her back arches. I stop stroking her and watch in fascination as Cathy unravels beneath me. She lets out a loud cry as she grips my shoulders. Her nails dig into my skin through cotton and she tightens around me.

Fuck.

My muscle clenches as I wait for some of the tightness to fade. As soon as I can, I start moving again. I’m close as well. Hell, I’ve been close from the beginning.

I manage a few thrusts before I feel a burning heat in my balls.

“Coming!”

I bury myself inside her as it bursts. My cock jerks wildly in its sheath as all my pent up desire and frustration spill out. Grunts escape my lips.

After a few moments of catching my breath, I pull my spent cock out. Cathy’s arms fall to her side. She can barely keep her eyes open as she looks at me.

I bend over to plant a kiss on her forehead. After I move away, I find her eyes shut. Her lips curve into a smile. Seconds later, I hear her even breathing.

Seems like now that she’s gotten what she wanted, she’s finally given in to the alcohol and fallen asleep. Or maybe it’s just the exhaustion of sex.

Whatever the reason, I have to get her home. I fix my clothes and then hers. Then I carry her in my arms like a bride. As I bring her to the car, I hear her snore softly.

I sigh.

Really, what am I going to do with you?

Chapter 11

Cathy

What did I do?

I try to recall the answer to the question as I sit on my bed with my head between my hands. I feel like if I take my hands off, my head might split apart. And that’s not the only discomfort I’ve been feeling since I woke up to bright sunlight seeping through the curtains.

My stomach feels uneasy. My back hurts. My panties feel weird, and when I look, I find them reversed – the wider part facing the front and the thinner part giving me a wedgie – as well as wet and sticky. I feel sore between my legs as well, like I’ve been riding a horse for hours.

What the hell happened?

I draw a deep breath and try to dispel the fog of panic in my brain so I can think through the pain.

Think, Cathy. What were you doing yesterday?

I remember Ken calling about the wines. I remember going to the restaurant and finding Jackson there. Right, he was there. Then I remember trying to make my inventory of the wines and then confessing that I’d never drunk any, after which Jackson suggested a wine tasting party. And I remember the party, or at least some of it. I don’t remember the names of the wines I tried, or which was best with what – I’ll have to ask Jackson again – but I do remember slowly starting to feel fuzzy. I remember talking, though I can’t recall exactly what I said. And I remember Jackson telling me we had to go home to Maisie.

I touch my chin. What happened after that?

Let’s see. I don’t remember walking to the car, but I do remember Jackson helping me walk and I remember lying down on the floor. What the hell was I doing on the floor? Did I fall? Then I remember Jackson above me.

On top of me.

I peek beneath my pants. Wait a second. Does that mean we…?

I hold the thought as my stomach churns. I rush to the bathroom, making it to the toilet before I spew out most of the wine I drank.

I grimace. Why did I let Jackson convince me to drink wine? It’s disgusting. And the smell is just…

Ugh. I’m never drinking wine again.

When my stomach has finally settled, I wash my face, change my clothes and go back to bed. I rest my head against the pillow and stare at the ceiling.

Did I really have sex with Jackson?

I can’t remember the details, but just imagining it makes me blush. I place another pillow on top of my face.

How on earth could I have been so careless and stupid?

I’m still trying to get rid of my embarrassment when I hear the door open. I lift the pillow off my face and see Jackson enter the room carrying a tray.

“Oh, you’re awake. That’s good. I’ve brought you a bowl of meatball soup, which is supposedly good for hangovers, a pain reliever and a glass of apple juice. It’s better if you take them.”