“Did you have a good shower?” I ask dumbly since I don’t know what else to say.
“Yeah, your home is beautiful.”
“Thanks. You hungry? I was about to make myself a snack. I get hungry after a show.”
“Sure. I’m always hungry.” She laughs softly.
I walk into the kitchen, with her following behind, and open the fridge to see what’s in here. Mrs. Burdette, the housekeeper, went shopping for the weekend for me before she left earlier.
I find some strawberry jam and brie cream cheese, and snag a package of water crackers from the pantry. I set them down on the counter and go about making them up. Sophia comes over and glances around me to see what I’m doing. When she reaches for one, I playfully smack her hand. “Not yet.”
She huffs, and I chuckle. When she tries again, I set the knife down and lift her gently, setting her on top of the counter. “Wait until I’m done. I still need to add the jam.”
I open the jar and scoop some out. “This is the best jam you’ll ever find. I get it from the farmer’s market, and nothing compares.”
“Can I try?” she asks, hitting me with her sexy puppy dog eyes I have zero hope of saying no to.
“Fine.” I go to scoop some more out, but before I do, she snags the jar and dips her finger into it. She brings her jam-covered finger up to her mouth and sucks, and my dick swells in my pants. She’s doing that shit on purpose. She has to be…
“Mmm…” She moans. “Delicious.” She dips her finger back in and scoops a bit more out. “Want some?” she asks, sticking her finger out for me.
I swallow thickly and drop the knife, stepping between her already parted legs. My plan was to keep my distance until we talk, but she’s fucking that up.
She pushes her finger past my lips, and I suck the jam off her flesh. Her hooded eyes meet mine and I wonder what’s going through her head. And then she grabs my shirt, pulls me toward her, and her mouth connects with mine. Her tongue pushes through the seam of my lips, and she tastes like strawberry jam. Her lips are soft, and her tongue moves in perfect sync with my own. It would be so easy to get lost in this woman, but then I remember we still haven’t talked…
I back up slightly, but Sophia wraps her legs around me, holding me close to her. “Dash…” I groan.
She drags her fingers through my hair and pulls me back toward her for another kiss. For several minutes, we kiss, until her hands move from my hair and find their way under my shirt. Then I’m snapped out of my Sophia-induced fog.
“Wait,” I rasp. “As much as I want to kiss you, we need to talk.”
She sighs but nods, unraveling her legs from around me. “Okay.”
I go back to making our food, and once I’m done, I grab one and bring it up to her mouth. “My mom always made us these as an after-school snack growing up. They are the best thing you’ll ever eat.” Her lips tilt into a smile and then she opens her mouth, but I don’t give it to her yet. “But be careful, because they’re addicting as fuck.”
“Gimme!” She leans forward and opens her mouth again, and this time, I give her the snack. The cracker is small, so I pop the entire thing into her mouth. She chews for a few seconds and then moans. “Oh my God, this is so good.”
“Told ya.” I shove one into my own mouth and eat it. “The key is to buy the creamy brie. That, mixed with the jam, is the perfect combination.”
“I’m going to steal some to bring home,” she says, grabbing another cracker, while I get us a couple bottles of water. When she pushes it into her mouth, some of it gets on the side. Her tongue darts out to lick it off, and my dick, which is already half-hard from our kiss, stands at attention.
We eat and drink in silence until the plate is empty. Then I put it all away and throw the plate and knife in the dishwasher. When I turn around, Sophia is off the counter and leaning against the wall, watching me.
“What?”
She smiles softly. “Nothing. You’re just so domestic. You have all this money, yet here you are, making your own food and doing your own dishes.”
“I have a housekeeper who’s here during the week, but while I’m gone, she only stops in once a week to clean. I had her pick me up some groceries since I knew I would be home this weekend. But growing up, even though my parents had money, they wouldn’t let us get too spoiled. They would have the house cleaned but not our rooms. They had someone who cooked, but they would make us clean the table and do the dishes.”