End Of Someone's Working Week

Steve was standing in my doorway looking as cute as cute can be.

“Hi honey, you're home,” I said. I kissed his lips.

“What have you been doing all week?” His tone was accusational.

“Um?” I kissed him instead.

“It’s not a hard…” I kissed him again.

“You must have something…” I kiss him again.

I kept kissing him each time he tried to speak.

He told me I was cheating, so I asked him what the rules were?

He stopped, thought, and laughed because he knew I had him. Then decided, wisely, that kissing me was a much better tact.

I had to agree.

He'd bought Nandos. He tried to make out that not only had he been to work, but he'd got dinner as well.

“I earn the money, and I provide the meal,” he said.

I agreed he was now the alpha male in the relationship. He said he didn't want to be.

"Oh baby, does it feel strange?"

He slapped me, tenderly. “It’s you job to look after me,” he said.

I touched his face with my fingers. He has the softest skin. He has the most beautiful eyes. He has the softest lips.

I took him in my arms, held him tight, and kissed him long and slow. “Do you feel better?”

“More.”

I kissed him long and slow again. He closed his eyes and purred.

“I’ll make it up to you, later.”

“Hmm, now you are talking.”

And I did. Twice.