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Chapter 17
Chapter 17We were having breakfast, Tad and I. Toast, bacon, black coffee. We were both naked. He had told me to serve him, then sit and wait. My apartment had a dining area, off the kitchen. The day was incredibly bright, eliciting spring, though in truth it was bitterly cold. He ate and I watched him. He was insanely beautiful. The olive skin, flecks of scars scattered on one shoulder, the flop of hair, wildly muscled thighs. I could not think what to say. He had stayed overnight for the first time. “Get on your knees,” he said. I was immediately aroused, embarrassed by that fact, but there was no hiding it in the wide breadth of sunlight. I got on my knees. “Come,” he said. My kitchen table was a marble square atop saw-horse iron legs. It sat four. He was across from me. I crawled
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