EroticReverie

Tate

He was so lewd, and so fucking dirty, and had just whispered in my ear about being his housewife, and the thought alone was about to get me off before he stopped fingering me and touching my breasts. 

"You're a pervert." I say as he draws his finger out of the pot and sucks it clean. He smirks and I roll my eyes, and try not to let on that I was definitely about to get off to the daydream of being Kash's wife. I couldn't show that it bothered me he'd stopped, I couldnt let him have the upper hand in this. I couldnt let him know just how much I wanted him to want me like that. 

This was Kash though, business man, ice cold bastard and tough guy. Self proclaimed hard ass. He was filthy rich and he didn't need to marry me. He didnt need to marry anyone, because Kash could have whatever he wanted. If he didnt get it from me, he'd get it from someone else surely. The kind of money he had could make girls hotter than me do whatever he pleased.  I didn't want to wonder though, I didn't want to play some guessing game as to what the hell it was we were doing. But I also didnt want to ruin what we had going on. I was happy. Truly happy, for the first time in a long time. Kash was a challenge for me, and I was one for him. That's why we were so good for each other. Never a dull moment, and god, never dull sex. For a man his age, not that he was terribly old, he had a raging libido and could satisfy me better than any other guy I'd been with. Shit, he could play with my pussy better than I could myself. The man knew just how to get me every time. 

I move to grab plates and want to stop and ask him what this is. Why was he picturing me as a house wife? Is that what he wanted? Or was it just something that got him off, the idea of it, but not really wanting it. Because the idea of a dozen men jerking off on me, got me off, but it wasnt something I really wanted. Was that what I was? Just a fun little fantasy he was trying out till he got bored? Why was I getting so damn insecure? 

I set the plates down on the counter, and I hear him chuckle. Turning my head he's looking at me, arms crossed smirking. 

"What?" I ask, because he seems pretty amused by something. 

"Your face." he says. 

I lift my hand to hit, thinking maybe I have sauce on it. 

"What? What's on my face?" I ask, not feeling anything. 

"Nothing is on your face...I just like watching it when your mind is going....I dont know what you're thinking, I just know that your thinking with the way your face changes, going in and out of angry little scowls that you're trying to hide from me." he says. 

I give him a little glare. "I am not." 

"see...this is me...scowling...right at you." I say and her grins. 

"Is my girl mad?" he mocks me, pouting his lower lip. 

"Mad I teased her pussy and didnt let her cum?" he asks and I roll my eyes. 

"I could have a better orgasm humping the corner of the fucking table. so, it's no big loss." I say with a shrug, and he laughs. 

"that right?" he asks. 

"Mhm" I say, lying. But that was hardly what was on my mind. The word wife was on my mind, I needed to know what the fuck he meant by him picturing me as his wife. Was it a thought going on in his head? He doesnt even tell me he loves me. Why would he? It hasn't been that long. 

"there you go again....thinking so hard....don't hurt yourself baby" he teases and I huff. 

"Oh screw you" I say give him another full on scowl and he laughs as I use tongs to plat the spaghetti onto one plate. I grab a fork, and grab the plate and walk over to the table and sit down as he just watches. His brow cocked. 

"You're not gonna fix my plate?" he asks. 

"Too much work for my little brain to handle. Do it yourself." I say and even as I try to force myself to be angry, his playful little smirk irks me, because I want to laugh. 

"Come on. Please " he says and gives a little pout. 

"I want you to serve me. You're making my dick go soft." he says and I hold back a little laugh. 

"not my problem" I shrug and twirl my fork in my spaghetti. 

"As you wish. Just remember that later. That you were being a little brat." he says and I roll my eyes as he plates his own spaghetti and grabs a fork, carrying it over and setting it down. 

"Do you want some wine?" he asks walking back over to the kitchen. 

"I don't care." I say, being petty, being stubborn and playing the role of the brat he accused me of being. 

He laughs to himself a little, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine from the wine fridge and brings it back to the table along with a bottle opener. 

I try to avoid watching the muscles in his forearms flex as he twists the screw into the cork. I look back at my plate, licking my lip, jumping , my pussy clenching at the little pop the cork makes when he pulls it from the bottle. 

My eyes go to his and he smirks. 

He lifts the bottle pouring one glass and then pushing the bottle over to me along with the other glass.

"Since we're serving ourselves tonight." he says and I roll my eyes. 

He gives a little chuckle as I lift the bottle, I dont even pour it in the glass, I lift the bottle and bring my mouth to the lip of the bottle and lift it up, tilting my head back as I take a sip and set it down. 

"Classy." he says , teasing me. 

I cock my brow and shrug, swiping my tongue over my lips to taste the wine some more. 

"What do you expect when you bring a tiny brained stripper to your dining table?" I ask and he barks out a laugh. I bite my lips, holding back my smirk.