LINK: YouTube - She's Playing Hard to Get - Hi-Five
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LINK: YouTube - Give Me Everything - Pitbull (ft. Ne-Yo, Afrojack, Nayer)
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And we've come full circle.
Hurry home, baby. I'm…uh…what's the wine term for when a vintage is ready to drink?
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Open.
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Seriously? I regret starting this metaphor. That sounds filthy.
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Well, are you?
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Why don't you get your ass over here and find out?
***
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(LAST MANUAL REFRESH 2 HOURS AGO)
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LINK: YouTube - I Just Had Sex - The Lonely Island (feat. Akon)
Chapter Twenty
Adrian
In the end, it's those dimples that do me in.
Six months, we've been dating, and I know that's not enough time. But after five years of foreplay, I'm chomping at the bit. I have dreams about our wedding. Yes - me. Six foot four, fine Italian suits, vicious in the boardroom, drinks bourbon at lunch and looks like he's fucked his way through the Agent Provocateur catalog. I now dream in taffeta and fondant flowers.
It's absolutely disgusting.
Helpful, though, for my new job. I'm not pretending to be a woman anymore, but I find readers like me better this way. I've still got an edge, but it's that soft romantic side that keeps people coming back. I actually write a lot slower now, since I'm not trying to cram it in between "real work." I'm more thoughtful about it. I've confessed to the world that Amanda was inspired by a wonderful woman I know, the love of my life. Every day, there are teasing comments on Facebook asking when I'm going to propose.
Soon, I tell them. Soon.
There are wedding bells for Dirk and Amanda in the very near future. And after that, of course, a baby.
And for me?
God. I don't know. But I think I caught Meghan cooing over some baby Halloween costumes on Pinterest the other day. She played it off like it wasn't baby fever, and informed me that baby fever is a sexist and insulting concept anyway, scowled at me, and went back to the board of hot men in suits. I don't know why she needs to look at hot men in suits on the internet, but then she doesn't question my browsing habits, thank God. So I let it go.
It doesn't scare me, though. The baby thing. Not nearly as much as I think it should.
A few weeks after she moved in, Meg was laid off. She never particularly liked the job she took after I fired her, and now she spends most of her time down at the animal shelter she convinced me to save. There's a rumor going around that the owner will retire soon, and I think we both know where that's going.
I don't really mind that she comes home smelling like a kennel, because she's never looked happier.
Over dinner, I ask her when she can get a few weeks off from her work there. She's going for another bottle of wine and she stops by my chair, kissing me on the cheek.
"What's that for?"
She smiles as she jams in the corkscrew. "Thank you for talking about it like it matters."
"Of course it matters." I set my fork down. "What, do you expect me to make fun of you for not having a real job? You're not my employee anymore, you're my girlfriend. A certain level of common courtesy is required."
She's laughing. "Oh yeah, did you learn that from Miss Manners? That's sweet."
"You know, when you thank me for acting like a human being, it makes me wonder how low the bar really is."
"It's just positive reinforcement, dear." She offers me some of the wine, but I shake my head.
"So if I get a kiss on the cheek for not making fun of your charity work, what do I get for taking you to Hawaii for our anniversary?" I grab her hand before she has a chance to react, pulling her close enough to surround her waist and pull her into my lap. She was self-conscious the first few times, but now, she settles in like a house cat.
Her eyes light up, but she's in one of those bratty moods. I can tell already. "And what anniversary would that be?"
"Six months." I know where this is going, and my palm is already itching to swat her.
Later. Soon.
But it's so blatantly obvious that she wants it. God damn it, I'm trying to be tender for once.
"You know what the word anniversary means, right?" She rests her forehead against mine, wiggling in my lap. I've been thinking about this all day, and I was half-hard as soon as I touched her. Now, there's nothing half about it. "I'll give you a hint, it's the same root as annual. As in, yearly. Not six-months-ly."
"You know, a good girlfriend would already be on her knees by now." I pull her in tighter, nibbling on the side of her neck. She shrieks a little, trying to shimmy out of my grasp. She's got a terribly sensitive spot just under her ear, and I love to take advantage of it.
"Oh, but you like me so much better when I'm bad." Meg smooths my tie absently, glancing up at me from under her lashes. "Better than a kiss on the cheek, isn't it?"
My dick twitches in agreement.
I chuckle softly, as her hands roam across my chest and try to work their way under my belt without undoing it. "So that's what I get, for being a thoughtful, wonderful boyfriend? A spoiled little brat?"
"An excuse to turn me over your knee." She licks her lips. "You're welcome."
"I don't need an excuse," I growl. She won't stop squirming, and I can't wait any more. "Get on your knees and finish what you started. If I feel you're properly grateful, I'll devour you until you scream. If I'm not convinced, you get a spanking and nothing else."