Love Expectations (Season 1 of Nata and Phillip's Romance) ✔️

27. 'Will it help?'

Phillip

"Tea? Water? Something stronger?" I pour a glass of water for myself as the chauffeur brings our suitcases in and closes the door.

"No, thank you. I don't really drink alcohol. Yesterday was a mistake." She peels off her jacket and removes her shoes as quickly as I drain my glass.

"Juice?"

"No time." She makes it up the first step up my stairs.

"Don't you want to relax before we begin?"

"I didn't find a flight on a private jet and being chauffeured in a limo particularly tiring." She disappears from view. "Come on," she shouts.

"This isn't a race, you know," I shout back as I follow her up.

"Tell that to my eggs. I can practically feel them disappear every second."

I enter my bedroom to the sight of Nata wearing a plain cotton bra and panties. No lingerie that made my mouth dry in San Fransisco. My mouth still goes dry. Her short stature would imply short legs, but hers are well proportioned and toned.

Runner's legs.

I move my gaze to her eyes. "I thought we agreed there won't be any running. The speed you move with feels like running."

"I agreed to no running away. I won't ever agree not to run to what I want." She climbs into the middle of the bed and sits in a lotus pose, her cross-crossed legs a sight that gets me harder.

I tug off my shirt and watch her watch me. Her breathing picks up. I'm not an athlete and never had a real six-pack, but I'm fit, and I know most people find me good-looking enough. Nata seems to fall in that category because color rises to her cheeks and the kind of electrical charge that screams attraction. I hum a mock-sexy tune as I remove my belt slower and with more pizazz than needed.

"Are you trying for a striptease?" Nata rolls her eyes, but I see her nipples getting tighter.

The room is plenty warm. Cold isn't the cause. I am. I fucking hope I am. The air between us pressurizes. I unzip my pants and let go of them. Without any training in this particular part of the seduction process, my pants flop onto the floor in a sad pile.

"You've got me." She smiles. Tension between us eases. She motions to the spot I'm standing in. "That was the move I've been waiting for. My heart is yours for the taking," she says in a dramatic voice.

"I didn't say anything about your heart." I mean it in a sexy, teasing way, but as her smile crumples, I know she didn't take it that way.

"Then let's get to business." Her tone is cold.

I fucked something up but I don't even know what. I step out of my pants and hop onto the bed next to her.

"You can leave your underwear on," she says, "but you have to take your socks off."

I notice my socks. I am off my game. "Any other instructions?" I ask as I remove them.

"On your back. No kissing. No touching, apart from the necessary parts."

"I thought we were past that nonsense." I lie down, my chest unsettled at her request.

She rolls on her back and takes her underwear off, than straddles me before I get mine off. "Boundaries aren't nonsense."

She rocks on top of me, and the friction the underwear creates between us gets me into the state that professional porn-stars would be proud of.

"Let's begin." She pulls the band on my boxer-briefs down and takes the matter into her hands, guiding me inside her.