THE KINK APP

    My body rears back with a hiccup that lodges itself at the back of my throat. Of all the things I envisioned the whole day. Nothing compares to this.

I mean, I spent hours picking out my clothes and then debating with myself if I needed a haircut. And the second he opened the door, I was sure I died and some magical, unreal person was opening the door for me.

The man is all hard angles and very beautiful, steel eyes. In the night they were dark, in the daytime they’re the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.

Still, I never imagined he’d… say that.

"What did you think the kink app was for?” he asks, the incredulousness rolling off his voice is impossible to miss.

Another hiccup slips past my lips as I look around us. I rub my sweaty palms against my pants– one of the newer ones Sophia helped me pick out.

“A kink app?” My voice has been reduced to a high pitched squeal. I can’t look him in the face. Mine is flaming, and I’m scared he’d know that I tried to touch myself to the picture of his back and his chest last night. The only reason I didn’t go all the way was because I felt like a pervert.

“I thought it was..” another hiccup, “cooking app, for you know,” another hiccup, they’re coming faster now.

“Cooking recipes.”

My entire body bounces with another hiccup. I watch his socked feet walk away from me, but I’m still unable to lift my head up. Too ashamed to do so. I’m not this dense usually. But now that I think about it, there were a lot of signs I missed from before. They kept asking my age for crying out loud.

His socked feet returns to my line of sight.

“Look at me.” his voice is firm and commanding, it runs down my spine and my body reacts without my permission. My head lifts, I find a bottle of water in his hand. I take it from him gingerly. Our hands brush, sending shivers down my back and straight to my dick.

He doesn’t pull away immediately, I don’t either.

“For your hiccups.” he says finally,

I uncap the water and take a more than a few gulps. My throat needs it, but it’s useless against the hiccups.

“I get them when I’m extremely nervous.” I supply with a sheepish smile, still avoiding looking him in the face.

“What’s making you nervous right now, Dimples?”

The nick name sends a fresh round of excitement round my body. I’m not sure what about it that’s getting my blood all hot and bothered.

How do I answer his question now?  

“I downloaded the app because a doctor asked me to, after ending up in the hospital for food poisoning. I had no idea that–”

“A woman? The doctor who asked you to d******d this app.”

I nod quickly, the movement gives me a small glimpse of him and his folded arms across his chest. His inked, bulging arms, and it triggers another round of hiccups.

“Jesus Christ, mother.” he mutters.

That forces me to look up at him. He’s scrubbing his forehead, the effort is flexing his muscles. The memory of what his back looks like falls into my mind, and I shift in my seat to hide the boner I’m spotting.

“That was my mother. She saw the app one time on my phone, and I told her it was an app for food recipe.”

“So it’s your fault then.”

He pauses.

I squeak again, “I mean, it’s easy to make the mistake when you’re out  of options and don’t want to die a virgin.”

I slap my hand over my mouth to trap any remaining words that will strip away the last of my dignity. It’s too late, he’s heard them.

From on top my hand, I watch his brows fly into his hair. My entire face feels warm, the heat seeps into my shirt. My eyes dart away, quickly finding the floors again.

“All your answers… including what you told me,” he sounds like he’s having trouble bringing the words out. I think about the questions the app asked, the ones he asked, and my answers to them. There’s no way to turn a shade redder than what I turn into.

“I thought it was about cooking, I answered with that in mind.”

He lets out a breath. I watch as his feet takes a step back. Disappointment seizes my insides, I want him to come back. I scramble for what to say to bring him back to me.

I find nothing.

“We were having two separate conversations then.”

The disappointment in my guts swishes around, turns to something heavier than I expected. Two different conversations means we won’t get what we wanted. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to go back to not knowing this man exists.

And my reasons have nothing to do with cooking.

“I can teach you how to make something simple if you want, since you’ve come all this way.” he says, his tone tight.

I swallow.

When I came, he’d been very flirty  and now he’s reverting. I don’t want that. But what can I do?

“That would be a lifesaver.” I tell him honestly.

I get to my feet awkwardly, and my bag with all the pots and pans falls to the floor with loud clangs. I cringe, hurriedly bending to pick them.

From above me, he groans and the sound heads right for my dick.

I breathe through it when he leads me to his kitchen. My jaw drops. It’s a state of the art kitchen and he definitely did not need my pots or pans.

“Let’s make pasta and sauce. It’s easy to whip up, and not time consuming. Fit for a student.” he tells me. I notice he’s keeping a distance from me.

I try not to feel hurt by it.

We start by washing our hands by the sink. I do that without any problems.

“Your mom said to wash all the ingredients thoroughly.” I mutter. It’s weird that I met the mother first and then touched myself to a picture of her son’s back. Oh god.

He mutters something under his breath, I don’t bother asking what he’s said.

I wash the vegetables thoroughly, all the while being acutely aware of his body heat radiating from by side.

“Now, to chop the vegetables–” he says, handing me a knife, and I commit a sin of holding it wrong and he dives towards me.

“Good lord, when you said you were a total novice, you meant it.”  he mutters, forgetting to keep his distance as he takes my hand.

Dear God.

If I was half mast before, I’m pitching a tent now. His hand easily covers mine, he pries my fingers open, and if I was being delusional, I’d say he rolls his fingers along mine. The handle of the knife and the weight is weird in my hand and I slice the most outrageous looking stripe of carrot.

And my hot, sex god steps in.

He covers my back with his, hard chest pressing against my back. The material of his tank is so thin, I feel the buds of his nipples. It’s a struggle to breathe after.

His breath is warm against my ear when he leans forward, I shiver against him.

In silence, he holds my hand and slices the carrot, slowly but surely. The most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen. But I could never replicate it on my own, seeing as I was struggling not to come in my pants.

Now that I know what he was thinking when he asked all his questions, I have an inkling to what he was talking about last night.

“Hey,” I start, my voice small, I lick my lips.

“I uh.. last night. I didn’t… I didn’t disobey you.”

The only sign that he’s heard me is his body stiffening behind me, and his breath slowing to nothing. I’m about to turn and check if he’s still alive when he presses against me.

Trapping me against the counter.

This time pressing his hardness against my ass. I bite back a whimper. Hell, he’s huge. He’s packing and my mouth is watering.

“Mmm?”

I aim to hum in response, but it comes out as a small moan instead.

“I should give you a reward then, for being good. Would you like that, Dimples?”