Quick Study by Gretchen Galway

again.
    “Take off my panties,” she said, frowning at the washing machine. “You might like them, but they're uncomfortable.”
    With his hands never leaving her, he fell to his knees and slipped them off, licking her stomach. Big, wet licks that lapped and tickled while his hot breath set her nerves on fire. Her fingernails dug into his broad shoulders under his jacket.
    He was still wearing his jacket, which was entirely unacceptable. As was being in the laundry room again.
    She shoved him away and crossed her arms under her breasts. “Take off your clothes. I'm going to explore.” With a saucy tilt of her head, she walked away from him down the hall like a supermodel and listened with a mixture of satisfaction and impatience to the sound of him tearing off his clothes. As much as she wanted him right now, it would be better for him to wait. Better for his humility.
    Defying the laws of time and space, he caught up to her in seconds and hooked an arm around her waist. He was naked. She glanced down, furtive at first, then remembered her role and stopped to openly inspect him. Hands propped on hips, she raked her gaze over him and hid her awe. Her memories hadn't idealized him after all. He was built like a minor god.
    His cock came to attention and he cleared his throat. 
    She corrected herself. A major god.
    “May I show you my favorite room?” he asked.
    “You may.”
    He pulled her tighter against his hip and smiled down at her. “Great. Follow me.”
    She let him tug her up a flight of carpeted stairs past empty bedrooms and bare walls and stacks of moving boxes to a bright and wide sunroom at the back of the house. It was painted yellow and filled with couches, tables, a TV, treadmill, beanbag chair, oversized floor pillows, framed photographs of California wilderness, and him.
    “Nice,” she said. “So this is where you really live.”
    “Mmm.” He turned and faced her, back to the room, and dipped his head to her neck. “Like it?” 
    To hell with the decorating. He had his hand over her breast and was gently rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She shuddered. “I'm ready for you.” She intended for it to sound dismissive and commanding, like she was talking to a waiter—not desperate.
    His tongue traced the curve of her ear, maddening her with sensation. “Tell me.” His breath tickled over the damp skin. “I aim to serve.”
    “What's on the menu—” 
    He nibbled on her earlobe at the same time his fingers pinched her nipple into a hard, sensitive point. She pulled away to recapture the reins.
    Reins.
    He was watching her with an arrogant curve on his lips, knowing she would have been happy to let him tie her up and fuck her and take what he wanted like last time. Men always thought they knew everything.
    She gave him a dismissive snort and turned away from him to walk around the room, looking for just the right place and finding it in the far corner under the window—an antique daybed, with a wrought iron frame around it on three sides, overloaded with pillows and blankets. 
    She pointed down at it. “Lie down here.”
    His smile fell a fraction, but he came over and sat.
    “All the way,” she said. “On your back.”
    He wasn't smiling anymore. “If you tie me up I won't be able to touch you.”
    “Oh, honey.” She put a palm on his big, muscular chest and pushed him down. “Yes you will.”
    He collapsed onto his back, his hard cock arching up to his stomach. She traced his abs with a fingernail and watched a shudder ripple across his skin. 
    “Use the spare power cords under the bed,” he said. “Make me pleasure you.”
    The words slipped down her spine and pooled hot and seething in her belly. “If you're lucky maybe I'll do just that.”
    He lifted his arms above his head, one hand to each corner, then stretched his feet out at the bottom. Big and perfect, he was giving himself to her.
    She found the extension cords in a moving box, but didn't like