Page 19 of Not My Problem

“How was your day?” I asked.

“Pretty good. Yours?”

“Good. I cooked dinner. I hope that was okay?”

She looked surprised. “I thought I smelled food. I didn’t know you could cook.”

Probably because this weekend she’d had to show me how to peel a potato.

“I’m using YouTube for more than dyslexia videos,” I said lightly. “Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Great, I’ll go change into something more comfortable.”

She came out a few minutes later wearing yoga pants and a baggy tee shirt, her hair pulled back into one of those stubby little ponytails she liked.

“Can I help?”

“Nope. I’ll give you a holler when dinner is ready.”

I’d purposely not chosen anything too ambitious, and I was pleased that dinner turned out better than I expected. I set the table, then transferred the food into serving dishes.

“Everything’s ready,” I called.

As she sat down I gave her the run-down on the meal.

“I found this salmon in the freezer,” I said, sliding the dish towards her. “I baked it in the oven with lemon and dill. We also have rice and a salad.”

“Wow, this is so fancy.”

At first I thought maybe she was making fun of me, but her expression was completely guileless.

“Everything looks great. It’s a nice surprise to have dinner waiting for me. Half the time I can’t summon the energy to do much with dinner. That’s why I try to cook up a few things on the weekend and freeze it for later.”

I felt a strange kind of warmth in my chest knowing that I’d pleased her. I’d never taken care of anyone besides my mother before.

“No problem.”

I’d already sampled everything to make sure it tasted okay, but I still held my breath until Gretchen tried the food. Then we tucked into our dinners, chatting easily like some old couple. It was nice.

When we were finished we packaged up the leftovers then worked together to rinse the dishes and load them in the dishwasher. I was cleaning the sink when Gretchen closed the dishwasher, grabbed my arm, and turned me to face her. I came willingly, my eyes dropping to meet hers.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly. “Everything was delicious.”

Then she pushed me up against the counter and gave me a kiss.

I remained still for about ten seconds, not because I didn’t welcome the kiss but because I was surprised by it. The other two times I’d been the instigator, and I’d half convinced myself that she’d kissed me back out of politeness or something. But this kiss confirmed that she was as attracted to me as I was to her.

There was nothing polite about this kiss. Gretchen bit down on my lower lip and when I gasped she slid her tongue inside my mouth and slid it along mine. Her tight body pressed against mine, taking control, and I loved it. My arms slid around her waist, stroking her back as she plundered my mouth.

Just like the other times we kissed, my body went from zero to horny in about five seconds. Her claim that my inability to orgasm more than once was because I’d been with the wrong people was playing on a loop in the back of my mind and I had the thought she quite possibly could make me come just with a kiss.

Gretchen finally pulled back and I whined in protest, sure she was going to let me go, but instead she shoved my shirt up to my armpits and lowered her mouth to my breast. I was wearing a bra but that didn’t stop her from clasping her mouth around one nipple, drawing on me through the fabric while her hands gripped my waist tightly. I arched my back, desperate to get closer, and she bit down hard enough to send a jolt of some combination of pain and pleasure right down to my core.

Once my nipple was swollen and aching she shifted, returning to my mouth with another kiss that was rough and claiming. I met her in a clash of teeth and lips, kissing her back until the edges of my vision started to turn fuzzy from lack of oxygen.

This time when Gretchen broke the kiss she took a step back, putting space between us. I swear my pussy cried out in frustration.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I know I’m the one that said we shouldn’t do that but I… I just couldn’t resist.”