Chapter 12
TWELVE
His hands slid up my dress and onto my boobs, cupping them with a gentle squeeze. I squirmed under his touch.
“They’re perfect, sweet baby.”
“Your hair won’t be if you don’t hold still.”
“How can I with you standing in front of me? Teasing me,” he groaned, lowering his hands to my butt.
He brought me closer, massaging both of my cheeks simultaneously. Fohr buried his head between my breasts and inhaled my skin. His obsession was growing and so was mine. It was almost pathetic seeing our addictions form right before our eyes. In real time.
I powered off the clippers and allowed him the moment. Secretly, I was enjoying it as much as he was.
“Baby–”
“Hm?”
Fohr was in a daze. He was hearing me, but he wasn’t hearing me at the same time.
“Do you want a decent haircut or not?”
I’d perfected my skill in three sittings. It had all begun with Fohr asking me to line his beard. The line was so pristine that he told me to continue to his hairline. It, too, was crisp.
Within four days, he was back in the chair with a towel protecting him from the mounds of hair that fell from his head because I’d moved on to lowering the bush that was growing on top of his head.
Together we watched footage that demonstrated different methods of obtaining the tapered Caesar he kept.
Pretty confident in my skills only two days after his second cut, Fohr allowed me to finish his hair entirely.
It had turned out much better than either of us had expected.
This time, I was determined to give him the perfect cut but he was making it difficult.
Standing between his legs wasn’t helping much either.
“I do, but I want to squeeze you until your filling bursts out of you, too. I’m not sure which one I want most right now.”
“Being as though you extracted all the filling I have this morning, I think you should choose yourself this time.”
“There’s more, Kit. There’s always more. And, by choosing you, I am choosing myself.”
“I don’t think that’s the truth, Mr. McClarren.”
“It is, though.”
“Fohr, can I finish your hair or not?”
He sighed, hesitant to set me free. I wasn’t in a rush to flee, either. In his arms, I felt safer. Calmer. Softer. Happier.
“Shit, I guess.”
“Thank you,” I sniggered, knowing how hard it was for him to agree.
The silence led me to power up the clippers. The vibration was jarring and took some getting used to.
“I was thinking– we bump dinner up an hour.”
“I’m fine with that. Is there a reason why?”
“Nah. Not really. We just have too much time on our hands between then and now.”
“I agree.”
“So, six, then?”
“Six sounds perfect, Fohr.”
“Plus, I was thinking we have a quick little fashion show after.”
“A fashion show?” I tittered.
“Yes. I be checking you out, Kit. You got some heat in those suitcases.”
“My things are all unpacked. I don’t have anything in my suitcases,” I joked.
“You know what I mean. It was enough of them motherfuckers. Now I see why.”
“Yes, I love my things.”
“Me, too, and I want to see you put that shit on for me.”
“Only if you do the same.”
“I don’t have too much here.”
“Which will make it even more interesting. My wardrobe is limited as well. A few suitcases. I’ll have to get creative. I’ve learned from being here that, that is not a problem for you.”
“Nah. It’s not.”
“So, you’re participating. Right?”
“How about we up the score a little and choose a winner at the end? The loser cleans the dishes for the next week straight.”
“Fohr, we both do the dishes with pleasure,” I reminded him.
“Then, the loser makes dinner for the next week.”
“Then, I have to win, because I can’t imagine you in the kitchen for a full week.”
“See, that’s your motivation right there. And, don’t act like I’m not getting better. I’ve been holding it down in the kitchen.”
“You’ve been better, baby, but not good enough to be responsible for dinner for a week.”
“Maybe.” He laughed with a shrug.
“Wait, who will judge?”
“Both of us.”
“How?”
“You’ll see, baby. You’ll see.”
I took that as my sign to quiet down. In silence, I finished Fohr’s haircut. When I was finally able to cut the clippers off, I studied my work closely. Satisfied with what I’d done, I stepped back and marveled at the masterpiece sitting before me.
“You fucked my shit up or what?” Fohr asked, running a hand down his head.
His fingers were long, slim, and very useful in the bedroom. He was skilled and not only on the field. He’d helped me score a homerun each time he stepped up to bat. The way he swung his pole had me oozing at the very thought.
“I didn’t. I think it looks pretty good.”
I reached behind me to hand him the mirror. He accepted it, placing it in front of him to see for himself.
“Oh, you trying to get your shit pushed through the mattress tonight?”
My cheeks flushed a shade of mahogany. I closed my eyes and shook my head, completely and utterly obsessed with the man in the mirror. He left no stone unturned when it came to me. To us. To this thing that we were building.
“I’m pushed through the mattress every night, Fohr.”
“You’re right, sweet baby. Maybe the floorboards tonight. You deserve it.”
I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Fohr put the mirror down and replaced it with my right leg. He pulled me closer and pursed his lips. I gave his body and heart exactly what they were craving.
“I will see you at six?”
“Yes.” I nodded, separating our lips and reclaiming my tongue.
“Dinner will be delivered by 5:55. I’ll handle the plating. Just be ready to sit down with wine in hand.”
We’d ordered dinner to the door three times in total. Though it wasn’t often, it was a nice break from the kitchen stove.
“Are you trying to get me tipsy, Fohr?”
“Admittedly, you suck it better after that red juice you love to drink.”
Taken aback, I pulled in a large bubble of air. “Excuse me?”
His head fell back in laughter. “Just being honest, love.”
“Well– we–” I stuttered, at a total loss of words. “Well, whatever. And it’s not juice.”
“Yes the fuck it is.” He chuckled. “And I love that for you. Wine is cute. Modest. Classic. Sophisticated. It suits you.”
“It’s a nice buzz and that’s all I need.”
“It is. So, stop pouting and go get ready. It’s almost four. You’ll need the entire two plus hours slow poke.”
“What’s the point in rushing?”
“There is no point, baby, especially when neither of us have anywhere to be.”
I left Fohr with a final peck on the lips and headed upstairs. He was right. It would take the entire two and a half hours for me to get ready to meet him at the dinner table. Half of that time would be spent on the phone with Ko.
I unlocked the cellphone when I made it upstairs to my temporary room.
I noticed a few messages from our family group chat and a missed FaceTime call.
The messages was my first stop. The green Join button in the top right corner revealed they were still on a call.
I tapped it and was immediately connected with the entire family, including my mother and father.
“Kit!” My father exclaimed when I joined the call.
“Hey baby,” my mother greeted me. “We were just talking about you.”
“And how you’re in love with dad’s favorite baseball player,” Ko revealed.
“You think you can get him to sign a sheet of paper or something for me, baby?”
“I can do that, Dad.”
“Thanks.”
“So, does he have a brother?”
“Kitana!” My mother scolded.
“Seriously. She’s asking for a friend,” Kiori added.
“She’s asking for a sister,” Khaleesi corrected.
“I’m asking for myself,” Kitana said, setting the record straight.
“The thirst is real. Mother and Father raised you all better,” Karina sighed.
“Not me, because I’ve been wondering since she said he showed up to her door,” Ko clarified.
“He showed up to your door?” My father blurted.
“Dad–”
“Yup,” Khaleesi answered before I could.
“Well, I sure wish I’d been there.”
“To mess up her chances at making him your son-in-law? We have to think longevity, Pops. You would’ve run him off,” Kiori reasoned.
“She’s right, Dad,” Ko told him.
“Don’t worry. I promise you’ll meet him. I can hear it all in her voice. That man has her head gone.” Karina chuckled. She was stunning in cream. Her gown was beautiful.
“My head is very much on my shoulders.”
“You look happier. Vibrant. Really good, Kit. I love that, baby girl.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
For a full hour, as I separated the clothes in the closet for the impromptu fashion show, I chatted with my family. I was sad when I had to end the call to get in the shower. However, if I continued with their shenanigans, I wouldn’t make it to the table until seven, our original dinner time.
Just as the clock struck six, my fingers connected with the stem of the wine glass waiting for me on the table.
Fohr had poured a generous amount in the cup, making his intentions clear.
He wanted me on my knees. And, on my knees was where I wanted to be, inhaling him slowly and sucking him even slower.
Dinner consisted of three courses. After extended conversation, lingering touches, and yearning gazes, Fohr led me to the boardroom where he’d rearranged the furniture to mimic a runway. Chairs that were once under the table formed around the long strip that was intended for strutting.
One after the other, we changed into the clothes we’d chosen.
Large poster boards he’d written large numbers from one to five on sat beside the chair at the end of the runway and were used for scoring.
My biased competition rated everything I appeared in a perfect five, making me the winner at the end.
He’d saved our bellies and our taste buds. We concluded our night in each other's arms, but not before I spent time on my knees and then on my back where he ate from my center as if it was a buffet.