21. Ethan
CHAPTER 21
Ethan
When I enter the apartment, I can hear Bridget speaking. She must still be in work meetings. It takes me a few minutes to put away the leftovers I brought over from the restaurant, and I’m desperate to get a shower after a small incident in the kitchen left me feeling rank.
Knocking quietly, I gingerly poke my head around the door and make eye contact with Bridget as she waves me in, keeping her arm off camera. She’s sitting on the bed wearing a blazer on top and her silky sleep shorts on bottom. Her hair is pinned up in a neat bun, and she speaks about finances with stoic professionalism. This has been her work-from-home wardrobe since she started back a few weeks ago, and it makes me grin every time I see her in it. She’s so fucking beautiful, and sometimes she has no idea how she affects me.
“Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll get those projections to you by the end of day, but I think this will be a fruitful partnership.”
Fuck, work boss Bridget is hot. She closes her laptop and flashes me a small smile. “I take it everything went well?” I ask as she pats the spot on the bed next to her.
I’m beside the bed in a few strides before her nose wrinkles. “Why do you smell like that?”
“Sorry, I wanted to hop in the shower first, but I didn’t want to interrupt your meeting. Nyomi thought it would be funny to fill my water bottle with pickle juice, but she must have been in a hurry not to get caught because she didn’t screw the lid on all the way, and when I threw my head back to rehydrate, I got a pickle juice shower. It was right before rush hit, and I couldn’t change.”
“Oh fuck, that’s hilarious.”
“Glad you find my misfortune so amusing.” I roll my eyes. “Do you have more meetings? Cool if I take a quick shower?”
“I’m good. I was going to grab some water before I send over those projections and then log off for the day.”
“I can grab it for you,” I offer.
She shoots me a look, and I can’t help but stare at her bottom lip. When she’s annoyed, her bottom lip juts out a little more than normal, and it looks so fucking kissable.
“It’s been like five weeks since I had surgery. I’m completely fine at this point. You don’t need to keep waiting on me hand and foot.”
My chest tightens whenever she reminds me that our living situation is temporary. What happens after my time here is up? What will I do if I can’t see her every day, or if she starts pulling back or pushing me away?
Sensing my mood, she shifts tactics. “Water would be great, thanks.”
Leaning down, I kiss her head before making my way to the kitchen. After grabbing her water, I rifle through the pantry, deciding what to make for dinner. When I complete the mental checklist of everything I need, I return to her bedroom, cup in hand.
I set it down with a flourish as I say, “Your water, m’lady,” before bowing to the side of the bed.
The laughter that follows warms a place in me nothing else has touched. I live to make this woman laugh, to see her happy.
“Get up,” she giggles at my antics.
“Yes, my queen,” I tease as I stand. “Now, if you don’t require anything else, I shall retire to the washing closet to scrub the smell of brine from my skin.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“But you like it.”
The sound of her laughter follows me as I walk to the bathroom and disrobe. Once the water temperature is perfect, I step into the shower, letting the cascading warmth ease the tension from my muscles as I wash my hair and body. As I scrub away the stench of my day, my hand wanders lower, fisting my cock that’s been hard since the sound of Bridget’s laugh awakened it.
I brace a hand against the tile as I pump my hand up and down in hard strokes. Gathering the pre-cum at the tip, I rub it over the head of my cock as I lean my forehead against the shower wall and let out a small groan.
“Mind if I join you?”
I’m startled at the sound of Bridget’s voice and the rush of cool air that hits me as she enters the shower, closing the glass door behind her.
Her naked body is a fucking masterpiece, and I reach out to run my hand over the curves of her waist and breasts.
“What is happening right now?” I grit out as her hand closes around my length and squeezes in long, twisting strokes.
She drops to her knees, but my hand catches her arm, pulling her up before she can continue. “We can’t… not cleared… six weeks…” I rasp as her hand continues pumping my length.
“My hospital paperwork didn’t mention anything about not sucking dick,” she retorts. “And besides, how else am I supposed to repay my loyal subject?”
I’m going to worship this woman the minute I’m allowed.
She steps closer, walking me back until my calves hit the tiled bench, then pushes my chest, forcing me to sit before dropping to her knees between my open thighs.
Taking my dick in her hand, she palms my length, licking from the root to the tip while cradling my balls in her other hand.
My head falls back and a growly “Fuck” escapes my throat as she places the tip of my cock against her lips and licks around the crown in a circular motion. A second later, her mouth is filled with my cock, taking me in as far as she can before my length hits the back of her throat.
I grab her hair, fisting it as her mouth works up and down, sucking me in hard as her cheeks hollow. She tries to take all of me, and when it’s clear she can’t, her hand pumps the base of my shaft, twisting and pulling as her saliva drips down, coating me.
“That’s it, you can take it,” I encourage, holding her head in place as I thrust my hips up into her mouth, her gagging noises echoing off the shower walls. She moans, and the vibrations feel like heaven on my dick, tickling the nerve endings until I’m about to explode.
“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna come. Be a good girl and swallow every drop.” I’m barely able to bark out my command before I’m spilling into her mouth. She laps it up like a kitten starved for milk.
Her finger swipes around her mouth, then dips between her lips as she sucks it clean, before releasing it with a gentle pop. My dick likes that a whole fucking lot as it starts to harden again, thinking there’s going to be a round two.
“I’m going to go finish the projections I was working on. Are we on for dinner?”
“Going out tonight?” I excitedly ask.
I deflate a little when she says, “I thought we’d stay in. Didn’t you say you wanted to teach me?” The thought of her in nothing but an apron briefly flashes in my mind, and I’m excited all over again.
“Embarrassed to be seen out with me, hellcat?” I joke, but a pained look crosses her face briefly. Fuck, maybe she’s ashamed of me.
“I’d rather not deal with the stares and judgment,” she counters quietly, toweling off as she puts her robe on and exits the bathroom, leaving me to deal with the aftermath of the small emotional bomb she just detonated.
____________
I decide on chicken parmigiana and gather the ingredients when she emerges from her room.
“First, I’m going to show you how to make the chicken,” I explain, pulling the package out of the fridge and placing it on the counter.
“What about the sauce? Can I use the premade stuff from the jar at the store?”
“I mean, you could, but it’d be shit. True marinara sauce needs all day to marinate and soak up the flavors. I make it in large batches and can it so I always have it on hand. We’ll use the jar I brought. But one day, I’ll teach you how to make gravy the right way. Now, are you ready to get dirty?”
“Yes, chef,” she replies with a wink.
And now my cock is hard, pressing against the seam of my pants as I pause my movements, setting down the ingredients I was gathering.
“That got you hard already, pup? I just sucked your cock in the shower.”
“That’s not helping,” I warn, blowing out a breath as I continue organizing my cooking space.
I spend the next several minutes teaching Bridget how to butterfly and bread the chicken, dipping it in the dry mixture, then the egg wash, and the dry mixture again.
Her chicken is butterflied unevenly in spots, and I show her how to use the knife to perfect the cut as we repeat the process with more breasts. We make enough for our meal, leftovers, and sandwiches. I want to make sure she has something to eat when I’m at the restaurant and can’t cook for her.
Feeding people is my passion, but feeding Bridget is my calling. That this woman allows me to take care of something so sacred, fills me with a joy nothing else ever has. My one hope is that she’ll still need me once these six weeks are over.