“That works. I will text you my address then. Oh and Blake? Make it a really, really good dessert.” She said in the sexiest voice she could find.
Chapter Eleven
Blake took his task of finding a “really, really good dessert” seriously. What did she like? What was her favorite? What would make her get in the mood to come? Oh, how he wanted to make her come. He was a guy. He thought about that a lot.
Lately, that was all he could think of doing with her. The way she smiled and laughed, the way she tossed her hair to the side when it was in the way – he had a hard time focusing on his life without her. He sure as hell wanted to make her come though. He didn’t even care if his cock was inside of her. He was dying to see the look on her face when he made her orgasm, the way her body reacted to his fingers while he teased her and played with her, prolonging her need to come all so he could enjoy her reaction. He got hard just thinking about how she would drive him wild. He finally decided on a dessert and texted her that he was on his way.
Marilyn was giddy. She was actually giddy. Blake was coming to her house and she was cooking dinner for him. She had made enchiladas, so she really hoped he liked Mexican food.
If not, well, they would have to just go straight to dessert. She liked that idea. She stuck the pan of enchiladas into the oven and went to her sink to wash her hands. She already had the plates and utensils out as well as a salad. He obviously liked beer, duh, but she wasn’t exactly sure if he would drink any kind of beer or if he stuck to what he made. Somehow the thought of her drinking a beer that he actually made, (really made!) with his own hands made her stomach flutter. She hadn’t thought of it that way the night at the brewery, but thinking about it now was quite sexy.
She decided she better look in the mirror and make sure she looked decent before he arrived, which could be at any moment now. She hurried into her bathroom, checked her hair, down and curly, her eye makeup and smoothed out her clothes – a white v-neck top and jeans with a belt. She thought that was simple enough. She didn’t want to be too dressed up in her own home but neither did she want to wear sweatpants.
At that moment the doorbell rang and the second it did, her heart sped up. This is crazy, Marilyn thought to herself. It’s not like I haven’t seen him before tonight, or that we haven’t talked and texted back and forth to each other. Admittedly, it had been a while since Marilyn had been on an actual ‘date’ date, but this man had already kissed her, for crying out loud, she should be feeling a little more comfortable than what she was feeling right then.
She did one last look-over, tried to calm her beating heart and walked to the front door. Before she had second thoughts about how she looked or what he might think of her house, she swung the door open.
There Blake stood with his fist up as if he were getting ready to knock again. Marilyn didn’t think she would ever get over the sight of him. The way his denim jeans hung loose on his hips but not baggy enough to look like one of those punk kids. He was wearing a blue flannel buttoned long-sleeved shirt with traces of yellow lines throughout it. Even though it was buttoned, she could see the edges of a white shirt peeking out from his neck. She could see the contours of his muscles straining against the fabric. She had an instant urge to place her fingertips right in that little spot where the bones came to an end and made that little indentation. She looked up into his eyes. Eyes that were positively gleaming with a smile. Oh boy, here she was again ogling him, checking out his body and his clothes and he was standing on her porch holding a plastic bag of what she presumed was dessert, staring at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Hi. Come on in,” she was nervous. “It’s good to see you. Is this dessert?” She stepped back away from the door opening to let him in and went to reach for the dessert, but he held it back from her.
“Uh-uh Marilyn, dessert is for later,” he teased. “You’re not one of those women who has to see what the dessert is before you eat the main meal so you can determine how much you’re going to eat, are you?”
Where in the world did that come from? She wished she were that kind of woman actually. “No, sadly I will eat you out of house and home and expect dessert as well.”
He stepped inside her house. Wow. When he stepped inside, the room actually got smaller. Was that possible? He towered over her, looking into her eyes. He was so large, his presence overwhelming, she thought.
“This way,” she turned toward the kitchen with him trailing behind her. “You can put the dessert in the fridge, or does it need to be prepared?”
“No, just a little bit of dicing once we’re ready but otherwise, not much else. It smells really good in here, what are you making?” It gave her a thrill that he sounded genuinely interested where that smell was coming from.
“It’s chicken enchiladas. They’re in the oven, so I hope you like Mexican food.”
“How did you know that was my favorite?” he smiled, “Come here.”
He reached out to her, pulling her to him as he leaned up against her counter. “I’ve had an extremely long day dealing with this robbery stuff and I didn’t realize how wound up I’ve been until I walked through your door. It’s so good to see you Marilyn...What's your middle name?”
Marilyn cringed, "I hate when people ask me that. My parents are crazy nostalgic. They still live in the fifties and sixties era. It's Monroe. And I may as well warn you, my brother's name is James Dean Jacobs."
He smiled, “It suites you. As I was saying, it's so good to see you Marilyn Monroe Jacobs." He bent down and tentatively kissed her lips, pulled back, looked at her in amazement and bent down and kissed her again. His tongue slipped into her mouth and she could taste the mint from his gum.
For a second she pondered what he was thinking about when he pulled back. Was it the same as her? Did he enjoy kissing her as much as she enjoyed it? Did he want more than a kiss? Was she willing to give him more? Even if her body was willing, was her mind? How well did she know this man to even be thinking these things?
As they stood there kissing, she reveled in the feel of his strong arms around her body, his hands resting on her lower back. God, she could get used to this. His lips were extremely soft. It felt so good to be kissed by a strong and utterly handsome man. She realized, it felt good to be wanted by this man, who was patient with her and gentle. Can he be rough when I want that too? Her mind questioned. And he liked Mexican food? That was a huge bonus. She could eat Mexican food every single day until it killed her. Literally.
Blake loved the way Marilyn felt. It was as if her body was made for his arms. She was so tiny yet curvy in all the places he cared about and fit perfectly in his arms, perfect up against his body. And she liked Mexican food too? The Gods were listening. He could eat Mexican food every single day for the rest of his life and have no problem with it. Lost in Marilyn, he groaned as he heard a buzzer sound and pulled away.
Marilyn looked slightly flushed, “Ah, dinner is ready.”
She tried to look unaffected by him as he looked so calm and cool like kissing her senseless right in her kitchen was a casual occurrence. Maybe it is for him, she thought and quickly dismissed the thought. She did not want to think about him with other women, period. She simply wanted to enjoy his company and see what, this, was.
They got settled at the table and began to eat. Each of them drank a beer, Blake not minding that it wasn’t his. She was glad about that. She glanced up at him as he started to speak.
“You know, if we continue to see each other you’re going to have to switch brands.”
Oh-no, he doesn’t like her beer. He is only drinking it to be polite. Her face flushed, for some inexplicable reason, she didn’t want to disappoint this fine creature. She reached over to grab his bottle and offer him something else.
“Whoa,” he yanked it from her reach, “Hey, lighten up, I am only teasing you. I like this beer. In fact, next to my beer, any Colorado brewed beer is fine by me. I just wish I had come up with the whole “it’s not cold enough,
if the mountains aren’t blue” gimmick.”
She was such a sucker! How could she not tell he was teasing her? It would’ve taken just a second to register the twinkle in his eyes and she would have known immediately that he was teasing her. But instead, she let her initial reaction get in the way, which she did more often than not, before thinking things through. Marilyn could feel the heat on her cheeks, “I didn’t know if you would drink other beer so I was a little worried about it. I can take a joke, I promise. So tell me, anything new with the case?”
Regrettably, that took the twinkle out of his eyes. “Nothing. The sheriff’s office is convinced it was a one-time, random happenstance. You know, right place, right time kind of thing. The guys got lucky that they didn’t get caught. I don’t think that though. Honestly, coming from a guy who loads this stuff into a truck every week – they needed the right equipment, the right vehicle to load it all up and take it. I’m not completely convinced it won’t happen again, frankly.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” Marilyn did not like where this conversation was headed. What could he do? Take matters into his own hands? How?
“I’ve had a few thoughts, but nothing worth repeating.” With that being said, he effectively closed off any further discussion about the incident.
“Would you like dessert now? I have a bottle of wine that I am sure will go great with whatever it is you brought.” Her comment was laced with lighthearted sarcasm.
“Are you getting smart with me, Ms. Jacobs? I would hate to eat this dessert without you.” His eyes were twinkling as he said this and Marilyn couldn’t help but smile.
“I would never do such a thing! Come with me, let’s get dessert ready.” She held out her hand for his, all the while looking into his eyes. He reached for her hand and gently brushed his thumb along her knuckles – oh, that felt good, she thought. He brought her hand up to his Made-in-Heaven mouth and kissed her so slowly and gently that if she wasn’t staring right at him, she couldn’t be sure that he actually kissed her. She liked that. She really liked that. How could this amazingly handsome man be inside her home, making her feel weak in the knees after only a short amount of time? And with just a kiss on the fingers no less! She was so in for it if they actually did ever have sex. She couldn’t begin to fathom what he might do to her in bed. The one place where I would stick my fingers and feel you shudder around them. Okay, she did have a small hint as to what he would do.
Realizing that she was thinking about this with him gazing down at her really made her blush. She looked up at him, at his mouth, into his green, green eyes – “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked in a whisper.
Oh no! She could not tell him she was just thinking about his comments from the other day because that would surely give him the idea that she was okay having sex with him tonight and while she desperately wanted to, she knew she wouldn’t – she hoped. So she blurted out the first thing she could think of, “Do you like Prosecco? It’s chilling in the fridge. I’ll pour while you prepare dessert.”
Blake wasn’t born yesterday. He took note how Marilyn oh-so casually disregarded his question and if he wasn’t mistaken, he also noticed how her eyes were dancing with passion only moments ago.
What was with this woman? He wanted her badly and he could tell she wanted him, why wouldn’t she just let that be? She was a fraction away from admitting it to him but something kept holding her back. He was determined to figure out what that was. Blake would get his way. Maybe not tonight but at some point he would figure out why she was holding back even though all her body signals were pushing forward.
They enjoyed a nice dessert of strawberry shortcake and Marilyn’s favorite whipped cream out of the pressurized can. Apparently Blake liked it just as much, as they ate half the contents straight from the can. They had drunk the entire bottle of Prosecco and were now sitting on Marilyn’s couch discussing the merits of a brewery.
Chapter Twelve
According to Blake, the most important aspect of microbreweries was freshness. “You cannot have craft beer without having it fresh. For people who truly enjoy a great beer, having it fresh is just as important as the way it tastes – if not more.”
She couldn’t help but admire the way Blake talked about his job. You could tell it was one of his greatest passions. All of his knowledge rolled off his tongue like honey, his eyes shone bright, and he didn’t hold anything back. Marilyn liked that. His excitement about the brewery made her excited for him. She realized she could sit and listen to him all night long. He definitely had a way with words. She blushed, thinking, yes, he definitely had a way with words.
“The nice thing about making your own beer is that there are endless combinations of flavor. You can make a winter brew, summer ale, whatever your heart desires. And the best part is you’re constantly serving it to patrons. While I experiment, they drink it.”
Blake stopped and took a drink of his water, he couldn’t remember the last time he talked this much about the brewery. Oh right, probably to the sheriff when he was being questioned about the robbery. While that subject put a downer on the topic, talking like this with Marilyn was nice, liberating. She seemed genuinely interested in everything he had to say about his work. She was a great listener. He watched her over the top of his glass. Her eyes glistened as she watched him drink his water.
“You really enjoy what you do. You don’t meet people every day who can say they actually love their job. But you do. I like that about you. I absolutely love my job and I feel bad for people who go to work every day and hate what they’re doing. I know sometimes you just do it for so long and get burnt out but I hope that never happens to me. I pray that I will always enjoy whatever it is in life that I do. I feel like that is the one power I have, the one thing I can control in my life – is what I do with myself. Who I want to be, what I can do to make that happen and how to actually do it. So, I admire that you appreciate your position.”
They were sitting on the couch, Blake’s legs splayed out in front of him. Marilyn had hers tucked underneath her bottom facing him. They sat close but not close enough, Blake thought.
“Come closer,” Blake said as he patted the cushion next to him. “I promise I won’t bite you too hard,” he grinned.
“Well at least I get a warning that you DO bite. That’s always good to know.”
She scooted closer and now their legs were slightly touching. Blake moved his hand to her leg and rested it there. Marilyn could feel the electricity between their touches. Was that possible? How can this man do this to her? Every time they looked into each other’s eyes, she could see his excitement, his passion, his flirtiness. She hoped it was meant for her but she wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to ask. But she knew her eyes shined and glistened when she looked at him and she hoped he knew.
“I had a great time tonight, thank you for dinner. It was really great.”
"I had a great time too. I'm glad you came." He had that same look in his eyes he had only moments ago. Flirtiness. Eyes that said I want you. Flirty eyes. They glistened and shined as he continued to stare at her. Her heart skipped beats. What was this man doing to her?
In a split second Blake's lips were practically touching her lips; she held her breath. She could feel the warmth emanating from him as he studied her face. She could drown in his eyes. The green depth of them made her think of the ocean. He was so mesmerizing, and when he was this close, about to kiss her, she couldn't stand it.
She moved into him so quickly it made him groan. Suddenly, she was in his lap, her hands were grabbing his head pulling him to her. His hands were on her back, along her sides, finding a place to rest. They came to a stop right near her bottom along her thighs. He held her firmly as he swept his tongue into her mouth, nibbling on her bottom lip as if this might be the last chance he had.
Blake couldn't make heads nor tails of how she continuously surprised him. One minute she was acting like a timid mouse, the next she was in his lap acting like a
wild cat. He loved it. He loved how he could bring this out of her. Almost as if her doing things like this were only reserved for special occasions and only he knew how to get in the door. He was okay with that - as long as it was with him, he had no problem whatsoever with her getting wild and crazy in his lap.
She was dying inside. She was absolutely wet between her legs. Her stomach clenched as if she couldn't control herself any longer. She had to have this man. She could feel his hardness protruding from his jeans. Her legs were spread around his, with her knees pushing into the couch on either side of him. She couldn't help her hands. They had a mind of their own roaming through the ends of his hair, along the back of his neck, over his broad shoulders. His lips were soft; he faintly tasted of wine and mint. Oh, Marilyn thought, he was such a great kisser.
Blake broke away from her, "If we don't stop soon, I'm not sure I will be able to. You’re amazing and you’re driving me crazy. This is your out," he paused, "if you want it." His eyes crinkled and there came that lopsided grin she had looked forward to seeing.
Marilyn already knew if she spent too much time dwelling on what her mind was telling her, it would win out over her heart. In this moment, for once in her life, she wanted to live and be in the moment, she wanted Blake, right now. She was not sure what happened to her adamant stance about not sleeping with him that she had only moments ago, but she didn’t care.
Instead of answering, she leaned into him and kissed him again. He grabbed her hands and held them with one of his hands, "Tell me Marilyn, I have to hear you say it. Tell me what you want."
He was being demanding, he knew, but her eyes were alight with fire and he could almost see a shimmer of doubt. He would love to take her to bed, to taste her, oh God, did he want to taste her, but he needed to hear it from her that she was okay doing this.
"Yes. I want you. Please, have me." Marilyn almost felt as if she were begging, almost felt foolish but when she looked up into his smoldering green gaze, she knew he needed to hear her as much as she needed this look between them. In that instant, the temperature in the room changed. Again was the electricity she felt every time she was in this man's presence. Marilyn could feel heat, tension, release of something, what, she didn't know, all pouring out of her body into this charming man. Was he feeling this way at all? When she looked into his eyes, she was certain that he was. The way he was caressing her body, using his strong hands to gently massage her neck, pausing at her shoulders before moving down to her waist, she was almost positive he had this toxicity in him too.
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