Chapter 2: Sunday

When I woke up, I knew instantly that I was in Walker’s bed. He had let me sleep in on a Sunday morning. I wonder how long he’d been up. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I felt terrific — refreshed and ready for the day.

In his bathroom, I noticed that he’d moved my toothbrush in — cheeky in a way, but thoughtful too. And his way of telling me he was keeping me for the duration — the week that Vanessa would be gone.

Shower-fresh, I pulled on one of his dress shirts — my own way of sending a message. I often wore one of my ex’s Turnbull & Asser shirts, but if Walker was planning to keep me...

In the kitchen, I smelled espresso and country ham and hash browns. And, moments later, the faint scent of his cologne as I put my arms around his waist and held him tightly. He grasped me gently, understanding on some level that I needed the hug.

Later, as he poached eggs for us, he didn’t smirk about the previous night, didn’t gloat, didn’t even mention it. I didn’t know how long he’d devoured me, how many rippling little orgasms he’d given me. I didn’t even remembering him tucking me in, holding me as I drifted off to sleep.

I was sure of one thing though — he had dedicated the night, the loving, to me. He hadn’t, as announced, cum in my mouth. I gazed across the table at him — so good-looking, so composed, almost serene.

“Did you even cum, honey?”

He smiled kindly, “This morning, in the shower.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

Another smile, “No you’re not.”

I laughed, “Got me. I loved last night — it was just right, just what I needed. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Walker?” I could feel my cheeks coloring.

“Winter.”

“Did you fuck me?” I was 99.9% sure he hadn’t.

“No. No, I didn’t.”

My voice dropped to a whisper, “Why not?” Genuinely curious.

“I wasn’t ready.”

Whew.

I tried for a lighter tone, “Were you assuming that you could have? Mr. Studly?”

He just gazed at me steadily. I felt my cheeks burning. He knew, I knew, we both knew, that he could have done whatever he wanted to me last night.

I smiled brightly, “Well, I guess I do owe you a blowjob. That’s the least I could do for ... for ... you know.” Why the fuck was I the one bumbling about? He’s the fucking teenager in the family.

Sunday night. Vanessa still down in Oaxaca. Lina Paloma at the dinner table with Walk and me. She’d be running Euforia in Vanessa’s absence. Hell, she ran it a lot of the time anyway.

And, Lina had become an integral part of Walker’s life — his sex life. Since her daughter, Pilar, had dumped Walk, had moved back with Lina, she was now his occasional bedmate — had volunteered for that duty, in fact.

He was on stove patrol, frying a variety of vegetable empanadas. Since Euforia was dark on Mondays, Lina would be spending the night.

It was an easy, breezy conversation — a lot of laughter and cross-teasing. I took care of the cleaning up, while Walk poured brandies and broke out a new package of 5-milligram Gummy Bears. Flavor of the night? Black Cherry Cola — Walk’s fave. We each took two, which would be plenty for us light users.