Part 12: Hungered Desire
“Let me top you off.”
Katrina watched Keir intently as he grabbed the chilled bottle from the coffee table and then tipped it over her wine glass giving her more pomegranate juice. The cream polo shirt complimented his honey skin and decadent cologne lingering on his dermis called to her like a siren song. She wanted to run her hand over his smooth beard and the lush curls that framed his face. She yearned to taste his plump lips to determine if they were as addictive as the words he orated.
“Is that good?” He asked, pulling the bottle upright.
She nodded. “Wonderful.”
“Good.” He firmly said as if it was his mission to make sure was taken care of. A gentle smile formed on his mouth as he placed the bottle back on the coffee table. He leaned back on the couch eyeing her inquisitively. “You know you can ask me.”
She lowered the glass from her lips. “Ask you what?”
“That question you’ve been wanting to ask me since you stepped in the front door.”
“Oh.” She glanced over at the door where her yellow pumps sat, eyeing the picture of him and an older man that shared his features standing on a plot of land in front of a lake, the same lake that was a part of his backyard. She turned her attention back to him. “How do you know?”
He shrugged. “Because everyone always wonders the same thing. “
“Okay.” She took a sip of juice and then placed the glass on the table. “Did you build this house?” She glanced at his hands and they didn’t give off years of manual labor rough.
He chuckled. “No, but I didn’t create the plans.”
“You’re an architect.”
“Aspiring.” He added.
Her eyes widened as she gestured around them at the quaint lake house. Nothing about it gave off aspiring. Rustic yet modern. Reclaimed wood, a black metal fireplace lit with a crackling fire as texture wood floated above in the rafters. The combination of wood and steel with touches of crimson carnations in beautiful glass vases scattered about on the mantle, entryway table, and dining room gave the environment the pop of color it needed. It was masculine and romantic, earthy and whimsical. She loved it.
“My man, you’re a damn architect.” She affirmed.
He grinned as if she said something profound then he peered over at his arm resting atop the couch. “That’s probably why my dad was upset when I handed him resignation papers.”
Her head tilted to the side and he elaborated. “I worked for my dad’s architecture firm in L.A straight out of college. I was there for a year and then one day I just felt like I was in the wrong place.” He sighed letting his sight travel past her. “I loved creating new dwellings but destroying neighborhoods for my creations and the plans of my fellow partners didn’t sit right with me.”
“So…” She started, toying with the dainty ‘k’ hanging off the gold chain calling his attention to her cleavage hidden behind the emerald translucent satin button-down. “Gentrification.”
“They called it ‘Beautification Initiative’ but yes.”
“Hmm.” She hummed to herself realizing her assumptions about him had been wrong. It was something she was starting to learn before dinner was set on the table.
He was an excellent cook. She wouldn’t have believed it if she wasn’t there while he mashed potatoes and seared lamb to craft a delicious shepherd’s pie. As they ate he shared that he was the middle child of five. He had an older brother and sister and two younger brothers; one in college and the other a senior in high school. He had three nieces and two nephews; his older sister was the giver of only two to the children. His parents were both Egyptian but his mom was reared in Ireland and his dad was from London they both met at NYU. They got married and moved to California where he was born. He didn’t need to be a TA but he had a lust for learning and an interest in teaching.
“What does that mean?” He asked with knitted eyebrows. “I’m not an expert in interpreting the language of Katrina just yet.”
She smirked then shrugged. “You’re not what I expected.”
“I know.” He reached over and tucked a strand of curls behind her ear giving him a pleasant view of the pearl earring attached to her lobe and her neckline. “That’s why I invited you.”
“Is this how you romance all your interests?” She claimed his hand in hers after it lingered near her ear for a beat. “Invite them to your adobe, cook them dinner, and have a deep conversation.”
He watched her trace the veins in his hand, “I DoorDash for interest. I only cook for people I want.”
“And you want me.” Her finger stilled.
“Want. Crave. Need.”
“Keir. Keir. Keir.” She raised her eyes back to his. “You’re a dangerous man.”
“Me?” He coyly gestured to himself with his other hand. “No.”
“You.” She laced her fingers with his. “Yes.”
“How?” He questioned with a grin that told her he already knew the answer.”
“But…” He leaned towards her prompting her breath to hitch. “I want you to tell me.”
The warmth of his breath sent a tingle in her ear and a shiver down her spine.
He leaned back against the couch. “Tell me how I’m dangerous.”
“Well…” She started. “I’m thinking about the message I gave you a while back about needing something to ride.”
“I mean.” He gestured to himself. “My lap is vacant.”
She thought for a second and remembered she was still married. But that was only in the eyes of the law. In her spirit that union was dissolved. So she rose to her feet, hiked up her emerald leather mini skirt, and climbed on her lap. As she rested on his thighs the skirt on her shifted up more.
“How does that feel?” He asked with his arms still stretched over the top of the couch.
“Good.” She whispered, getting damper as he grew beneath her. “When are you going to touch me?”
“When you tell me to.” His languid voice prompted her to grind her hips against him instinctively. His heated gaze dipped from her lips to the cleavage and pushed up a yellow bra. “
Noticing where his eyes lingered, she slowly undid the buttons of her top. The movements of his chest quickened as she shimmed out of the top then reached behind her back and undid her bra then paused to drink in the attraction flooding his sight before letting the bra fall.
His Adam’s apple rose and fell slowly as he licked his lips.
She grinned, holding up her curls as the cool air brushed over her pebbled nipples then said. “Feel me. Touch me. Taste me.”
Her words were the invitation he needed. Her eyelids dropped as his hands slid up her thick thighs. His fingertips teased the hem of her skirt as his lips adorned her collarbone with light kisses causing her head to dip back. His hand wrapped around her neck bringing her attention back to him.
“I need those pretty brown eyes open…” He smoothed his thumb over her lips.”…while I get you wet.”
She smirked. “Too late.” She woke up aroused. Her hormones were raging and he was adding more fuel to a fire that had been blazing all day.
He hummed. “Good.” His eyes went to her lips and she leaned down to finally taste what she had been craving since stepping foot in the lake house. Decadent. Delicious. Delightful. The words streamed through her mind as their tongues danced together. She rolled her hips in a rhythm that he matched. His hand gilded under her skirt as her hand grabbed onto his curls as they fought the urge to untangle their mouth for the gift of breath.
Her lips unglued from his to let out a moan as his fingertips slipped past her damp thong to coast over her clit. Her reaction entranced him so he did it again and again until she grabbed his shoulders and serenaded him in soft moans.
“Keir…” She sang his name as he dipped two fingers inside her dripping entrance. “Keir.“
“What is it, sweetheart?” He inquired, as the thumb of his other hand made revolutions around her nipple watching her come undone in front of him. “What do you need?”
“I need…” She paused to let out a moan as he plunged another finger inside her. “I need…” She tried to string words together as she rode his hand as warmth swelled in her and a need for release overtook her. “I need…ah…” Her movements became more erratic.
Just as she was about to reach her peak Megan the Stallion’s Plan B sounded and she froze.
“Fuck.” She blurted out glancing back at her phone on the coffee table. She read the text and said the four-letter word again shifting off his lap.
“What is it?” Keir asked with genuine concern.
“He lost Clive?”
“Who?” He asked with confusion, painting his features.
“My…our dog.” She snapped on her bra and grabbed her shirt. “I have to…” She stopped taking in the way he combed his hand through his curls. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His hand fell at his side. “Your dog is missing.”
She put on her shirt. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to.” He said, picking up their stemmed glasses.
“I want to.” She touched his arm, calling his attention back to her. “The only reason I’m leaving is to find the baby I raised from a pup and no other reason.”
He nodded then gave her a delicate kiss on the forehead and her eyes briefly closed. “Let me know when you find him.”
Those were the last words they shared that evening before she rushed out of his house to find her dog and when she found him she knew she was taking him with her.
How do you think Terrence lost the dog?
Do you think she had the wrong assumption about Keir?
Since you know more about Keir what do you think about him? Is he good for Katrina?