Her Gentle Gangster by Carolyn Faulkner
Chapter Eight
Cara
“That’s it?”
I look up at him as we sit on the end of Michael’s bed, with me curled up in his lap. He was so sweet with me afterward, helping me put my dress back on and smoothing out my hair, and not even laughing at me when I didn’t know what to say after sex.
“Thank you,” I’d said. He’d only smiled and kissed me on the neck. That was the third or fourth time he’d done that since he pulled me into his house. But he was not precisely kissing my neck. Kissing and inhaling and making strange, caveman noises, like he wanted to burrow inside me via my collarbone. Like I possess something in that spot that promises to blot out the world.
And now, sitting in his lap, I’m listening to him tell me what he needs from me, now that I’ve allowed him to draw me into his world. “That’s it? That’s all you need me to do?”
“Uh. Yeah, that’s it,” he says, lifting one shoulder.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I blow out a breath of relief. “I thought it was going to be hardcore. I don’t care what anybody is into, but as a sexual novice, I’m relieved,” I say.
Michael blinks at me like I’ve just given him the crown jewels. “You would be surprised at how many women have never talked to me again after learning about my kink.”
I run a hand over his face and neck and down his chest. “I don’t think it’s that weird to ask for husband/wife roleplay.”
“It’s a little too weird for a lot of people.”
Inside, I’m jumping up and down. Playing house with this man? I’ve been doing that in my head since I was twelve. Not a problem for me at all.
“It feels like the thing that you’ve always wanted manifesting in this kink, and now it’s hardwired.”
“You’re a wise old soul,” he says.
I slide off his lap and say, “Nah. I minored in psych. Let’s eat some cake.”