When we arrive down into the kitchen he picks up a remote and presses a button that fills the apartment with music.  He lowers the volume until the folky mellow sounds swim comfortably around the space.  It's a far cry from the loud rock music that was blaring in the car the other night.  So I can add eclectic music tastes to the growing list of things I know about him.   He points at the breakfast bar and I take a seat on a high white lacquer barstool with a low back and watch as he moves to turn on the oven.

"Wine?" he asks over his shoulder.

"Yes please, red if you have it," I nod. 

I could check my emails while he cooks I suppose, having been out of the surgery all afternoon it makes me worried about what I might be walking in to in the morning.  I slip back off the stool to go get my laptop from my work bag which Jake had set by the wall in the living room.  I take out my MacBook and come back to sit just as he's placing the glass of red on the counter in front of me. 

"Thank you," I smile before taking a long welcome sip.  It's good.  Rich and dark and maybe even French but I can't see the bottle to confirm.  He must have gone to some effort to pick it for me since he doesn't drink wine.  An image of him asking the woman in Waitrose which wine he should get for me is adorable. 

"You have work to do?" he asks, nodding towards the computer.

I shake my head " Not really, I just need to check my emails,"

"Cool. Well this wont take too long; bout half an hour, forty minutes. Did most of the prep earlier," He tells me.  

I relax on the stool and watch him as he goes about the kitchen removing things from various places: green vegetables and an oven dish from the fridge, large silver pot from a cupboard beneath the sink, utensils from hanging places above the cooker.  I've opened my laptop and switched it on but I haven't even looked at the screen.  I'm absorbed watching him doing domestic things like filling the kettle and turning on the oven.  He has a gracefulness of movement that I've never noticed before; his body is strong and powerful and everything he does with it he seems to do with assuredness and confidence - even rinse potatoes and chop asparagus apparently.   I'm certain I could watch him do menial domestic things all day long and never get bored. 

I sigh girlishly and log into my emails. There's one from Tash that I open immediately.  My sister fills me in on her and Greig, including the fact that they're house hunting again in Malibu. Apparently Greig has been offered a new job meaning they can afford to buy the crash pad by the sea they'd talked about.  She wants to Skype me on Sunday night for a catch up.  I think maybe I'll go over for Christmas this year.  I miss her so bloody much.  I'll speak to her about it on Sunday and make some arrangements; maybe Nick would like to go too.  Though I'll see her in August for the family holiday the idea of spending Christmas in California has taken hold of me.  I email her back saying that everything is good here and that I have some news of my own to share.  I think it's time to tell her about Jake.  Now that Rob knows and we're an us and I'm spending the night at his flat.  I'll tell her and she'll squeal and want to know everything.  She wont say anything to mum or dad if I ask her not to - they're a step too far right now - they'd want to grill him over roast lamb and potatoes and ascertain through a variety of personal questions whether he's good enough for me.  Suddenly I remember about Robyn's dinner party on Friday and a little nervous shudder runs over me.  As I look up I see him put a pot steamer on the hob, and as though he senses my stare looks up and smiles a sharp toothed smile at me making my insides stir.  Edible.

"You're so fucking impressed right now aren't you?  I can tell." He sounds confident.

"I've never wanted you more," I smile as I sip my wine. "You slaving over a hot stove for me - definitely one of my fantasies." 

"One of?"  His grin turns into a heated stare. "So then later I'll get you to tell me the rest and I'll see what I can do about them." He holds my eyes a moment before moving to pour water into the pot from the kettle.

Telling Jake my other fantasies would be an awkward yet erotic conversation since they all involve him.  You against that window in your office, you in an upstairs room of a party whilst everyone else is downstairs, you in a slightly public place, you on my Steinway.  I feel my cheeks flush and I look away from him and back down to my emails.

There doesn't seem to be anything else urgent that I missed today so I close the laptop and take another sip of my wine, resting my head on my hand to watch him work. He really is ridiculously gorgeous. That fierce dangerous gorgeous that excited me from the start.  Even here, cooking me dinner he looks fierce and powerful, and it makes me feel as though I too have power because I've been able to domesticate him in this way. I just manage to stop myself doing another pathetic dreamy sigh, before sitting up.

"So you never said what you got up to today?" I ask.  "Apart from prep and scrub this place from top to bottom?  I'm so impressed.  It's the world's cleanest bachelor pad." I look around. 

When I look back at him he's smiling at me. "Yeah well, I'd love to take credit for it but I have a cleaner who comes in twice a week.  She was here this morning. I'll tell her you like her work." he takes a swig from a bottle of beer. It's a green bottle with a blue label and looks familiar.

"You have a cleaner? How very... middle class of you,. I jest.

"Guy's gotta try." He shrugs, grinning. 

"So you just sat here and watched some woman clean your apartment?  God that must have been tiring?" I giggle.  He laughs and raises an eyebrow at me.

"Nah, I didn't watch her.  I went down to the gym for a couple of hours while she cleaned - and then had some stuff to do at the club. After that I did a spot of shopping," He comes around the breakfast bar to stand next to me.  A few hours in the gym?  Well that explains a lot.  I wonder how many days a week he spends a 'few hours' in the gym. An image of him working out floats through my mind and I get all hot again and have to swallow hard. I've run once this week, which really isn't that shocking since I find any excuse not to and any distraction is an excuse not to. I just happen to have found the biggest most distracting excuse ever not to.

"Oh a spot of shopping?" I stifle a laugh.

His brow furrows playfully. "You taking the piss out of me Doctor?" a wicked smile curls the side of his mouth. Christ I want to kiss him.  I need that mouth on me - I always need that mouth on me.

"Me?  Absolutely not." I give him my serious face and shake my head.  He dips his head to mine and kisses me very slowly, keeping his eyes wide open as he groans against me.   It feels like a statement.

He stops the kiss but keeps his mouth close to mine to speak in a low whisper. "You're distracting me even with your fucking clothes on Alex.  I wont be held responsible for what comes out of that oven if you keep this up," He reaches his hand up and brushes my hair back behind my shoulder, skimming his fingers down the side of my neck.  His touch is soft and gentle but couple with the look in his eyes it promises so much more.  

As he leans in towards my mouth again I manage to gather my senses and I duck out from under him, lifting my wine off the counter as I do. "Well I want your best culinary effort Lawrence, so perhaps I'll sit in here then shall I?" I throw a glance back at him over my shoulder.

He groans as I walk away. "Yeah, probably a good idea." He nods. 

I pick my handbag up on the way past and fish out my phone as I flop down on his soft large corner sofa.  I have a missed call from Mum and Nick, and a text rom Robyn asking if Jake can make dinner on Friday so she knows how many places to set.    If I call mum back now I'll have to explain where I am and I'm not ready to do that.  I do wonder what Nick wants though so I press his number to return his call.

"Hey Sis, how's it going?" he sounds chirpy. 

"Great, you? You called?  Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, everything's fine this end.  You spoke to mum tonight yet?"

"She called but I missed it.  Why?" I ask ominously.   When Nick laughs down the phone I know that everyone must be ok at home.

"Where are you just now?" he asks casually. 

I look over at Jake who is busy setting the cutlery on the wooden dining table by the window.  Again, as though he senses me looking at him he looks up, and gives me a boyish wink and a small smile.  He has dishtowel draped over his shoulder and looks every inch the domestic god.

"Um a friends, in town, why?" I say lowering my voice and turning my back on Jake.  "Do you know why mum called?

"Oh, just mum being mum," He sighs.   "She called saying that Harrie rang, apparently Ben saw you today at some work thing and that you left with some guy.  I swear I sound like an old housewife....  Anyway, apparently the shit was worried about you, didn't like the look of the guy or something.  I think she worried when she couldn't get hold of you. But you're ok, obviously.  Which I told her you would be. So it's all-good," he finishes. 

I feel my whole body clench and my teeth grit.  Bloody Ben.  Still managing to get my back up, even from a distance.  So now due to his interfering and whether I'm ready to or not I will have to have to have a conversation with mum about Jake.  Saying he was worried about me is just bloody typical of him.  Vintage Ben.  Planting some negative seed about Jake with my parents to further his own cause - and using his own parents to do it.  Well he's nothing if not Machiavellian.  He's also a wanker.

"Yes, I'm Ok. He is bloody unbelievable," I say through gritted teeth, shaking my head.

"Yep.  He's still a total prick then?" Nick asks.

"Apparently some things in life are constant." I mutter.

"So who was this guy then?  Someone new?" Nick asks, curious.  "Clearly got Ben's knickers in a twist seeing you with him?"  He sounds pleased by this.  When I turn to look over at Jake again he's bent over staring through the glass door of the oven.

"I'll tell you when I see you next. New, yes," I tell him.  "Listen can you do me a favor though?  Call mum back and tell her I'm fine.  I can't go into this with her tonight.  It'll end up about Ben and I don't want to go there. Not right now," not ever again.

"Sure, no probs," He says.  "Oh before I forget, are you free Saturday?  To come through?  There's someone I want you to meet," He sounds almost shy and my attention shifts immediately from Jake and Ben drama to Nick.  My brother surely hasn't met someone.  No way. 

"Oh my god, not a girl?" I gasp.

He sighs. "Are you busy or not?" I can actually see him squirming on the other end of the phone.

"What's her name Nick?" I poke.

"Oh for Christ sake Al," He groans impatiently.  Sensitive.  It's not normally a tone I hear from him with regard to females.  Yes, it was serious.

"Yes, I'm free. What time?"

"Come over about 4?  I'll book a table somewhere for the 3 of us?  We can meet up with Seb later.  Cleo and Tom from are up from Brighton too who you've met before.

"At least tell me her name Nicholas," I'm grinning like an idiot. 

"Her name's Isabelle," He sighs but his voice is warm when he says the name.

"Awww Isabelle!  Nicholas and Isabelle does have a nice ring to it." I giggle childishly.  I really shouldn't take anything away from the significance of this though, my man whore brother finally mentioning a girl to me was huge.  Nick introducing a girl to any of us is akin to taking an announcement out in The Times.  He hasn't had a serious relationship since he was fifteen.

"Ok, I'm going now Alex," Nick groans. "See you Saturday."

"Can't wait."

"Goodbye..." He mutters.

"Bye, and Nick remember and call mum for me!" I squeeze in before he hangs up.  I turn round to find Jake staring at me from a few feet away.

"Nick, your brother?" he asks curiously.

I nod.  "Yes.  He's met someone apparently.  This is big.  I'm meeting her on Saturday." I say excitedly.  He smiles warmly, nodding.

"This is almost done if you wanna sit down?"

"Oh, I do want to sit down.  I'm utterly famished," I pick up my wine glass and go over to take a seat at the circular dining table which he's set with black fabric place mats, water and expensive looking contemporary cutlery.  Jake brings the bottle over and tops my glass up, before sitting the bottle in the centre.  "Have I mentioned that I'm so impressed?" I say looking up at him.

"Lets wait until you've tasted it yeah?" He smiles. 

I smile, watching as he goes back over to the oven and opens it, pulling out a white oven dish holding something that smells absolutely heavenly.  He spoons the contents carefully onto two plates before draining the veg from the steamer and plating them up too.  I'm in awe of how totally relaxed and not at all stressed he looks.  I know if I were cooking for him at home I'd be stressed.  I'd be worried about burning it or it being too cold, or not cooked enough and it being the worst thing he'd ever eaten.  I suddenly don't care about any of that though and I decide I want to cook for him.  I want to slave over a hot stove for him.  I want to be anti-feminist for him.  I want to be 1950's housewife who does his washing and has his dinner ready and waiting for him on the table when he comes home.  Jesus Christ what is wrong with me?  As he puts the plate down in front of me my stomach growls at the site of his creation. 

"It's Parmesan and red pesto chicken with steamed potatoes and asparagus," he announces.  "Hope you like it." 

It looks and smells divine and I pick up my knife and fork eagerly, cutting into it barely as he's sat down to my right.  On the first mouthful I know he can cook. It's heavenly; succulent, juicy and cooked to utter perfection.  Another surprise.  I give him a wide eyed stare.

"Wow, this is amazing...." I say with my mouth half full.  He smiles and nods, looking pleased before picking up his cutlery to tuck into his own.  We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes because I'm absolutely starving and want to eat this delicious plate of food rather than talk anyway.   I can tell he's watching me though and as I look up I momentarily worry that I look more like a caveman than the well mannered lady my parents raised.  I'm too hungry to care to be honest.  He though eats in that neat tidy way of his, putting me completely to shame.

"So, are you still okay for Robyn's dinner on Friday?  I'm not promising the food will be quite as good as this but she normally does something edible." I smile.

He chews his food, swallows and nods once. "If you still want me to come, I'll come."

"I do.  I want you to come.  I'd like you to meet her." 

He nods again. "So Robyn was with you at the club that night?"  He asks before putting another forkful in his mouth.

I nod as I swallow. "Yes, both Robyn and Leigh were there.  Rob's the gorgeous blonde one.  Leigh is the gorgeous brunette one.  I think she's coming on Friday too." I say taking another large mouthful, enjoying every chew as though it's my first.

Jake shrugs. "I don't really remember what the girls you were with that night looked like. Was sort of focused on someone else." He stares at me intensely and I feel myself heat up.   To try and cool down I take another sip of my wine, which doesn't cool me down in fact. It just makes me feel warmer and fuzzier and makes my mind drift.  It drifts back to that night in his office when I laid eyes on him for the second time.  How completely certain I was that I'd never see him again and how relieved I was that I was wrong. The night he kissed me for the first time.  The night I knew my life had changed for good. 

I stretch my feet out under the table grazing my bare feet graze his bare feet.  He smiles and strokes mine back as he continues to eat.  As I look back down at my plate I see that I'm only a few more mouthfuls away from finishing the entire thing - I'm also enjoying it too much to do my usual, habitual act of leaving a small amount on the plate to appear more ladylike.

"Well that was totally delicious," I tell him as I set down my knife and fork.  "You'll have to make it again for me sometime." I wash down my last mouthful with the rich wine and glance at the bottle.  It's Bordeaux.   So he did buy me French wine. How the hell did he know to do that?

"I definitely will." he nods, still chewing. 

I can't believe I finished my entire plate before he finished his - it's almost mortifying.  I push the plate away and sit back in my chair and observe him.  Then I remember that watching someone eat isn't polite, and so I look around his stunning apartment instead.  I think about him living here, doing normal day-to-day activities; lounging on the sofa, watching TV, eating cereal.  Not cleaning though because he has a cleaner for that. I'm not sure if I would like that.  I don't particularly like the idea of someone coming in and roaming around my house and through my things.  I'm sure Ben mentioned getting a cleaner at one time shortly after I moved in with him. He said we were both too busy for housework.  What I really thought he was saying was that he wasn't happy with my housewifery skills and I needed help with them.

Ugh. Now I'm thinking about Ben and it's the last thing I want to be thinking about.  He's still going to want to talk about us at some point.  Ben is the sort of person who thinks he has a god given right to the things he wants, meaning he'll still want to talk about us despite seeing me with Jake today.  What is there to talk about?  But maybe he did have a point about one thing; how almost eight years get reduced to nothing?  Then I remember - when someone stops paying attention and the other person fucks a medical rep for months. That's how.

"What are you thinking about?" Jake says nudging into my thoughts.

"Just things; work, that I should go visit my sister," I lie.  He nods.  "Oh and you." I add.  Not really a lie.  Somewhere in the back of my mind under all of the organised clutter and unwelcome thoughts I'm always thinking about him.

He smiles. "Do you think about me a lot?"  He lifts his beer and sips, keeping his eyes on mine.

"Often." I admit, staring at him over the rim of my glass.  Under the table he strokes his bare feet against my leg, and above the table his gaze intensifies and heats up.  Those eyes... the heat in them when he looks at me makes my womb tighten.

"What sort of thing do you think about?" He asks.  

Oh, you know just becoming a housewife for you, which drawers you would have in my tallboy, making love to you in the morning before we have breakfast in bed and read the papers.  I finger my glass thoughtfully as I try and think of something that won't terrify him or make him think I'm insane.

"Just about how you keep surprising me," I say in a measured tone.  "Who knew you could cook?  Or that you had a cleaner or that you wanted to be a fireman when you grew up." I take a sip of my wine and he laughs softly.   "I think about other things too." I blush and look down.

"Yeah?  Like what?" His voice is very low as he continues to stroke my foot with his.  I don't lift my head.  I just stare at my wineglass, circling my index finger around the rim.  I can feel the heat of his eyes on me. 

"I think about.... your mouth, and your hands, and your," don't say smell, don't say smell, he'll think you're insane if you say smell.  I need to stop talking entirely now. Right bloody now.  The 1950's housewife thing is less scary than this.

I chance a look up to him and my heart stops.  He doesn't look freaked out at all.  He looks aroused.  His mouth is slightly open and his eyes are dark with heat and the stare is making something happen to my breathing, and the space between my legs.  He shifts in the chair and runs his hand over his mouth.

"Finish what you were saying.  My what?"  He's smirking now.

Oh god.  He thinks I was talking about his cock.   Oh god.... I should just have said smell.  Now he thinks I spend time thinking about his cock.  Which of course I do but I just told him that I do when it wasn't actually what I meant.  I look down utterly mortified, cheeks blooming.

"I don't think anymore detail is necessary," I mutter, flicking a look back up at him from under my eyelashes.  "Not at the dinner table anyway."

He chuckles. "Well if it makes you feel less embarrassed, I think about you a lot too. I don't have an issue with telling you what those thoughts area about but yeah, we did ban that sort of talk from the dinner table." his voice is low as he smiles sexily at me just for a change. 

We stare at each other like that for a few moments before he shakes his head as though to clear it and stands up.   He is aroused.  Clearly, physically aroused. He leans across the table towards me and I hold my breath. I have images of jumping him, of tearing off his clothes, and of him carrying me upstairs and throwing me onto the bed - or just taking me on the breakfast bar.  But he doesn't do any of that.  He just reaches over and picks up my plate, keeping his eyes on mine as he does. My brain kicks in a second later and I stand up too, lifting my own plate too so that we both have a handle on it.

"Let me help clear.  You cooked." I say. My voice sounds a little breathless. He shakes his head and nods towards the sofa.

"Loading the dishwasher is another of my skills.  It's the hands," he says with a smirk. I'm about to insist but his eyes go serious. "Go.  You're distracting me again," he says and pulls the plate out of my hold and wanders into the kitchen with it. 

I sigh and refill my wine glass before padding across to the sofa.  I'm still tingling, hot waves of excitement moving through my body from the erotically charged dinner.  He really is able to reduce me to a quivering wreck just from a look, a bite of his lip, the sight of his tongue.  He's completely ruined me.   Flopping down on his comfy sofa, I pick up my phone to text Rob and tell her that Jake will be there on Friday.   There's a text from a number I don't recognise.

//We need to talk Alex. Call me please, Love Ben xx//

My body goes from soft and warm to hard and cold in an instant.  Un.bloody.believable. Love Ben? I roll my eyes and tap out the text to Rob before throwing my phone back in my bag, fuming.  A moment later Jake is behind me, strong warm hands kneading into the back of my neck and shoulders.  I moan and drop my head to the side, trying desperately to relax into him.  Jake stops massaging me and comes around the sofa, sitting down next to me and switching the TV on with the remote. I tuck my legs up under myself and lean into him and he settles his arm around me. It feels warm and comforting being this close, and the smell of him as I lean my head on his chest is intense.  He kisses the top of my head and I hear and feel him take a deep inhale.

"There's probably nothing on," he says as he starts flicking through the channels.   He lingers briefly on a football match and then swears an apology and turns it over.

"I don't mind.  Watch it if you like. I'm enjoying just lying here," I feel full and warm, partially from the wine but mainly from his arms.  I'm also enjoying the closeness of him and the normality of being curled up next to him watching TV.  It feels like a novelty.  I rarely watch TV.  I do films and the news and that's it.  I could make an exception with him though, even with football, which I loathe.  Tennis is the only sport I actually enjoy watching.  Yes, I'd happily watch football with him.

"You hate football don't you?" he says lightly.

"It's one of the few things I hate," I smile with my eyes closed.  Dr Ben Cooke being one of the others.  In fact no, I don't even hate him.  I just really really wish he would evaporate from my life completely.   "I'm happy if you're happy," I add.  He leans down and kisses the top of my head again, then begins to stroke my arm, soft gentle strokes which tickle but tease at the same time.

"I'm happy," he says and promptly turns the TV off.   "So tell me about your sister in America. Natalie is it? D'you miss her a lot?" he asks, still stroking my hair.  My eyes close over.

"Natasha. I do miss her.  She loves it there though so I don't think she'll ever come back.  I'd move there too, in a heartbeat.  Nick and I have both spoken about going but my parents would be devastated if we all left." His hand stops stroking and he's quiet for a few moments.

"You'd leave here? Seriously?" he asks, a strange lilt to his voice.

I shift, twist my body so I'm lying back in his arms. "It's just another world over there.  The weather, the lifestyle - California is an amazing place.  It makes everything here seem very small and boxed in.  I'd rather bring up a family there, grow old there," I tell him.   He's silent again before his fingers begin to stroke once more, circles then lines across my skin as though he's writing on it.

"I get it." He says, then. "So you want children then?" his voice is soft and warm but my eyes fly open.  God. I just mentioned having children, on a second date, which I suppose implies that I'm talking about having children with him.  Nevermind the comment about his hands, or him thinking I spend my days daydreaming about his cock - this is what will convince him I'm a bunny-boiling nutcase.

I try and keep my voice distinctly non nutcase-like as I answer. "I just mean that if I do, when I do, I'd like to raise them in the states, preferably California." I'm hoping for nonchalant.  Please let me have sounded nonchalant.  

"You sound so sure your life would be better there. Your life here seems pretty perfect to me.  Great education, good respectable job, a family who love you." he sounds genuinely confused and so I sit up and turn to look at him.  Of course considering his shitty start I've had the perfect life here. Of course to him it makes no sense to move it thousands of miles away.

"I do have a good life. I have all of those things, I just feel constrained sometimes - as though something's missing you know?  I've always felt like I should be living a different life somewhere else.  Like I'm missing out on something here." I look away from him because I'm struggling to properly explain what I mean and I feel like I'm just rambling nonsense.  I'm afraid I just sound spoilt and ungrateful and slightly immature. 

When I look back at him his expression is soft.

"I know exactly what you mean," he nods, nibbling on the inside of his lip.  "I've always felt like I was missing something too, like I'm living someone else's life.  Guess I'm just surprised at you feeling that way too. Sounds like you had the perfect life," his hand comes up to pinch my chin.   "But then, you're pretty fucking perfect though." he says. I smile as I wait for him to laugh but he doesn't. He stays looking utterly and completely serious.

My heart constricts and I frown slightly at him before shaking my head.   "I'm not perfect Jake, far from it."

"Yeah well, to me you are." He says almost dismissively.  He's completely sincere. He's completely wrong but he's sincere.  I just stare openmouthed at him for a few moments while he stares at me.   Then he leans over to kiss my open mouth, a kiss that is chaste but deep at the same time. He finishes by sucking gently on my bottom lip, then pressing his lips to the tip of my nose. 

As he pulls back and I take in his face a weird nihilistic thought enters my brain - how on earth had I ever managed to exist before him?  It's as though I was only half awake, maybe three quarters awake, before I met him.  Only when he looks at me do I feel this completely alive. It's a ridiculous and completely female thought and I feel a little ashamed by it, but it doesn't change the fact that it's true. 

"I know it's early but I'd like for you to take me to bed now," I whisper.  His eyes blaze and he takes a deep breath and stands up, pulling me up from the sofa and against his body.

"I'd love to take you to bed now," he smiles. 

He kisses me softly on my forehead in a tender way that melts my insides further and pulls at something in my chest. I love when he does that; it feels so intimate and makes me feel so safe and protected.  It fights against all the other parts that warn me he's going to hurt me.  Parts that seem to be getting quieter by the day. 

I put my hands on his hips and push him across the apartment to the spiral staircase.   As we go he flicks a switch and the living room lights go out and the bedroom lights upstairs spring lighting our way.  

"What time do you have to get up tomorrow?" He asks as we climb the stairs.  I groan aloud at the thought.

"I need to be in work by 8, so 6:30 maybe.  Sorry it's so early," I say squeezing his waist tenderly.  The muscles of his back and stomach are tight and hard under my fingers. 

"I'm fine with early.  I'm not a big sleeper normally anyway.  I'll drive you in," He says.  As we get to the top of the stairs he turns to face me "If you're lucky I may even sort you out with some breakfast," he grins wickedly.  Oh.  That kind of breakfast.

"Trying to impress me again?" I smile.

"Always baby, always," he whispers, stepping forward to kiss me.  I lose myself in the feel of his arms and his mouth for a moment before he pulls away and turns me around.  He unzips my dress slowly; kissing my neck in soft hot kisses which contrast with the cold air hitting my naked back.  He slides my dress down my body and brings his hands around to my bare breasts, caressing them, running his palms then his fingers across the hardening nipples.  I'm so glad I didn't put the stupid bra back on.  

When he slides a hand down and between my legs from behind my breath catches in my throat, and the need roars inside.  I feel behind for the front of his jeans, unbuttoning them quickly, before inserting my hands into the front and clasping my hand around his glorious smooth hardness.  I'm always surprised by the size of him, so generous and well proportioned, and how hard he is whenever I touch him.  He moans into my ear as his breathing speeds up into short sharp breaths against my skin.  I try and fail to get his jeans down with one hand - it's too awkward.

"Fuck this," he swears.  He stops touching me and hastily removes his t-shirt before pushing out of his jeans so that he's standing completely and gloriously naked.  I'm also always surprised at his body, each time feeling as though I'm seeing it for the first time.  His sculptured tattooed chest is breathing short shallow breaths as my eyes dip lower to the sight of his large, primed erection.  I need it inside me.  I need him inside me.

"Didn't I feed you enough?" he says.

"What?"

"You just licked your lips.  See something you want?" He smirks. 

"Maybe," I smile. 

"Take them off,"  He says nodding to my knickers.  "Slowly." 

I smile wider, my entire body blooming with something hot and desperate.  He's turned the tables.  Naked and smiling darkly and sexily I know I'm not going to disobey him here.  In his house he's in charge.  Though I'd do pretty much anything he wanted me to do anywhere, he need only ask.    I lock eyes with him and lick my lips, sliding my hands into the waistband of my black silk knickers before very slowly sliding them down my body.   Bending down, I unhook them from my legs and stand back up, holding them out to the side before dropping them to the floor.

I feel no absolutely no embarrassment or shyness in front of him.  Instead I feel desired and sexy and alive. Very alive.  He smiles and runs his hand over his mouth as he takes a step toward me.

"You are fucking perfect you know. Don't ever argue with me on that again," He says with a hard stare, defying me to doubt him.  I think he may be tempting me to accuse him of feeding me another line "You're so fucking beautiful Alex," His voice is softer as he steps closer.  I bite my tongue and slide my hands up his chest tracing my hands across the dark markings across his body. 

"Thank you... so are you," is what I whisper back.   I draw my hands down his body, over the lettering that reads 'CW' on his hard muscled stomach. He touches his hand to the side of my face and brings my head up to meet his eyes. 

"Why is it so fucking hard for you to take my compliments Alexandra?" He says.  He's only ever used my full name once before, that night in his office, when he didn't know that I don't really like it.  When he didn't know me. I like the sound of it him saying it now though.  I like how it sounds on his tongue, which means that apparently I like everything his tongue does.

I smile sweetly.  "It isn't.  You're very charming.  It's getting easier," I keep my tone light and playful as I bring my hand down between his legs.   He gasps and then lets out a low groan as I wrap my fingers around him.  He's smooth and hard and so perfect in my hand.  

"Well I'm only charming with you Alex.  Trust me on that," he says through shallow breaths.  I think briefly about the page three girl from the lift, Gemma and the doe-eyed waitress from our date and the desperate for attention looks they all threw in his direction and decide maybe he's selling himself a little short. I'm sure he can be very charming with many women on many levels.

"Ok, then you have a very talented mouth..." I smile. 

He smirks. "Yeah, ok, I'll take that one.  But from what I remember so do you,"

"Oh from what you remember?  Was it not that memorable?" I pout as I climb onto the bed, straddling his body before taking him in my hand again.  

He lies back and closes his eyes. "Yes it was very fucking memorable, and you need to stop doing that right now baby or I'm going to come," His forehead looks damp and he's straining against himself so I slow my hand down, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss and lick on the end of his cock.   He curses loudly and I feel his hand in my hair.  I slide the tip into my mouth and swirl my tongue around him a few times, moaning against his hardness.

"Right, enough," he moves quick, flipping me over so that I'm beneath him and he's pressing me into the bed.  He draws a finger from my mouth down from my chin, then to my throat and between my breasts before sweeping his hand over my nipple. He repeats the process on the other before trailing his hand down my stomach, spreading his fingers across my body. "You're skin is so soft and so pale," his voice sounds deeper than normal. 

Pale.  I wonder if he thinks pale is bad.  I used to think pale was bad.  He doesn't sound like he's talking in the negative though so I decide he isn't.  He must like that I'm pale.  He leans down to kiss my breast, trailing his tongue across the nipple.  I moan softly.  "I could do this all fucking day," he breathes against my breast

"I think my patients might be a little disturbed," I giggle, but he bites down softly making me cry out instead.

"Hmm.  Point.  Plus I wouldn't stand for anyone else seeing you naked so it's definitely a non-starter," he says moving his mouth down my body.     I feel his mouth between my legs and his tongue slips inside me, slowly, teasingly until he finds my spot, which he begins to suck on, hard.  I gasp loud.  God, he is so good at this.  I never want him to stop. 

"I've thought about your cunt in my mouth all fucking day Alex," he growls, sliding his tongue inside me.  My hips buckle and I begin grinding brazenly against his mouth. 

"Jake.." I half pant half giggle, his coarse language touching me somewhere deep inside.  "You... are so... good.... at that,".

I grab onto his hair and pull him against me to get more traction on his mouth.  When I look down to see him stroking himself while he pleasures me it's utterly my undoing.  I feel my insides begin to contract, and I grip the sheets hard and bring my other hand to my mouth to stop from screaming too loud. 

"That's it baby.  I feel it.   Come for me..." He tells me from somewhere far away.  At his command all self-control vacates my body, and the huge tightening grips from the inside as my mind turns to fuzzy white and I orgasm against his mouth.   He continues to lick and suck at me as my body comes down from somewhere high above.   When I slow to a stop, he kisses me softly on the spot he so lovingly caressed with his mouth, and then moves up the bed to lay next to me.   At the sight of his glistening lips another stab of desire shoots through me, and I reach forward to welcome the taste of them warm and moist on my mouth.

"Mmmmm thank you..." I say as I settle myself next to him.

"Yeah you don't ever have to thank me for doing that," he grins. 

I'm sure he knows how good he is at that. I'm sure women have told him before.  I push THAT thought from my head immediately.  Not going there again tonight.  I need to stop this. 

Suddenly he moves, sitting up at the top of the bed against the low wooden headboard.  He reaches across and into the bedside drawer to retrieve a small silver packet.  I turn onto my stomach and watch his hands work the condom over himself, enjoying the image of him touching himself, readying himself. 

When he's ready he gestures for me to come to him with his a tilt of his head.  I sit up and crawl on my knees towards him so that I'm straddling him again, my knees on either side of his thighs.

"I want you like this, on top." his voice is level yet commanding.  He's always so comfortable with sex.  How he wants it and needs it, almost as though he has it all planned out in advance.  As I sit up and move toward him on my knees my breathing starts to speed up with the thought of sitting on him and without breaking eye contact with my he takes my hand and pulls me closer, over his cock.  My legs almost buckle when I feel his hardness graze me underneath as I position myself, and I feel myself grow wet again from the anticipation of how good I know this is going to feel.  I want and need him inside me like this.

"Slowly baby, that's it," He says settling a hand on my waist, the other cupping my bum, as he lowers me down onto him. 

We both gasp as he enters me.  The feeling of him is immense as always but different, even more of a tight secure fit.  The urge to sit down quickly overtakes me but I manage to resist it.  It's impatience and I can wait.  I know it will feel better if I wait. 

"Fucking hell," he pants as he presses his head back, the strain on his face increasing with every dip of my body.  I bite my lip hard as I lower myself down, filling myself with him, and my breaths get shorter and sharper, my cheeks warming as I begin to feel him throbbing inside.  It seems to be in unison with my heartbeat.  One of his hands slides up my body and cups my neck and he pulls my head down to his so that our foreheads are touching. 

"Fuck, I love being inside you Alex," he whispers.  That term of his.  The one he shocked me with at the start, the one I said was crude and insulting.  The one that now has me groaning and panting with need on top of him.  I'm so fickle. 

"I love having you inside me," I say kissing him, biting his lip hard.  He moans and lowers me all the way.  "Oh...my god."

It's truly exquisite.  He feels so warm and so hard and so necessary inside me.  When he begins to move his hips upwards I'm truly gone; a mindless body filled with need.  Desperate ridiculous need.   The sensation of him this deep, stroking at the most intimate part of me is utter bliss and I moan and pant loudly as I move myself on him. Jake kisses my moans away with slow sensual bites on my mouth.  

"Yes like this.... Alex ....fuck me...yes.... So good baby.." A litany of curses escape his mouth but none of them sound vulgar, not anymore.  They sound erotic and exactly what I want and need to hear.  I hear each of his words as though he's inside my own head, or under my skin, and just then the most intense orgasm overtakes me. 

It doesn't come from below where our bodies meet, but seems to come from every single nerve of my body, making me throw my head back and grip his legs behind me.   His hands and then his mouth grab my and pull at my breasts as he begins to orgasm inside me.  He thrusts almost violently off the bed as he comes, all the while whispering cursers mixed with words like 'perfect' and 'beautiful' and 'mine'. 

It's then that I know, that from this point on, every other lover will be measured against him and every other lover will pale in comparison.   What am I even talking about?  I don't want any other lovers.  I want him.  I'll always want him.  I'm certain of it now.

After, Jake moves our bodies so that I am lying with my head on his chest as we look out on the London skyline as he strokes his hand softly up and down my spine.  I knew it would be an amazing view at night.  The night is clear and dark, and the reflection of the stars and the city lights across the water is very picturesque.  The feel of his steady vital heartbeat through his hard chest makes me feel very comfortable and utterly content.  So content in fact that it makes a chill of fear spread through me, the fear of never feeling this content ever again.

"What are you like when you're not with me?" I ask softly, sleepily.  His stroking across my spine doesn't waver or stop.

"Hmm?" he also sounds sleepy.

"You said before that you're very different with me.  I keep wondering what you meant by that."

I think I feel his body tense slightly. "Did you come to any conclusions?"

"Not really.  I have one context for you and it involves you being naked and inside me." I giggle and run my hand across his chest.  From the waist down he is covered with his light grey sheet but I can see the faint outline of his growing erection.

"Well that's me at my best baby.  You don't really need to see me in any other context," he growls playfully against the top of my head making me smile. 

"At some point I'll need to.  We can't just stay in bed forever,"

"Fuck,"  

I smile again and run my hand over his hard stomach and across the lettering that makes me want to eradicate all of his exes from his memory.  No, not them all; just the one he cared about enough to go get a permanent reminder of.   I turn my head to stare up at him.  Breathtaking.  He looks up down at me, his long eyelashes framing his dark eyes as the side of his mouth tilts into a half smile.. 

"Seriously, what did you mean by it?" I ask.   He takes a long deep breath before he speaks. 

"I guess I meant....  Well, that you make me want to be different.  Better than who I normally am.  I'm not good enough for you - I'm aware of that," He says with the same sincere tone he used to tell me I was perfect.  I move to speak, to tell him not to be ridiculous, but he puts his finger to my lips gently, hushing me.  "So when I'm with you.  I try to be better because I want to be good enough for you.  That's pretty much what I meant."

It's a beautiful sentiment but it makes me annoyed.  I frown.  "What makes you think you're not good enough for me?" I try not to let my voice do that high accusatory thing it does sometimes.  He cups my chin with his hand.

"I told you I wasn't a nice guy.  I think if you knew the extent of that you'd run a fucking mile Alex." He states, his face serious now. 

"I thought we'd already established that I don't want a nice guy Jake." I state. 

"I don't think you know what you're saying baby," he shakes his head.

"I always know what I'm saying." I kiss his stomach gently, holding his gaze. He watches for a few moments, thinking hard about something before pulling me up his body so that I'm lying directly on top of him, my face close to his. 

"Ok.  But theres a lot you still don't know about me.  A lot that if it was up to me, you would never know.  I'm not the person you think I am." His voice has an edge to it and his eyes look fierce. 

I frown. "Then who are you? Is this you?  Now?  Here?" I sit up. 

He smiles softly.  "Yes. This is me.  When I'm with you, I feel like I actually am someone.  This is me, how I want to be." He says in a low voice which cracks around the edges.

It's all a bit vague.  But clearly sincere.  It's a head fuck if I'm honest.

I chew my lip. "I'm going to want to know more Jake.  I'm going to need to know more if this is going to work.  You know that don't you?" I say, though honestly I don't really even know what that means.

"I know," he says, looking sad again, distant, scared even.  He moves quickly and flips me over, maneuvering me under him and nestling between my thighs.   "But not tonight yeah?  Tonight I want to get you to put those little red scratches on my back again.  I liked having your sex scars on me." He nuzzles the crook of my neck, biting me as he pushes his hardness on the apex of my thighs.  Distracted by his mouth again I close my eyes and spread myself open to him. 

I know that one day I'll know all of Jakes secrets; I have no doubt about it.  I just have no bloody idea what it means for us when I do.