"So I suppose you're responsible for eating my cornbread?" He asked. "Alisha texted me. You're lucky my sister's here to protect you because I don't take too well to other men eating my cornbread."
He was friendly, as I said, but he made a point of sitting down with us at the kitchen table and whether Tasha picked up on it or not I don't know but the message was clear: there would be no more alone time with his sister. Not that night, anyway. At least I finally managed to get her number before leaving - and a little kiss on the cheek when her brother wasn't looking.
When I got home I had to sit in the Suburban in the driveway for about five minutes, willing my cock to stand down and forcing myself not to remember how goddamned good her curvy little body had felt pressed up against mine. I'd eaten her cornbread, though. All of it, even though she'd meant to use it to feed her family. And then I'd left without getting the whole story on her mother. I had to do something to make it up to her, to show her that the evening hadn't just been about me trying to get into her pants.
I knew what I had to do. I, Kaden Barlow, was going to have to bake. Just the thought of it made me laugh out loud at myself as I sat inside the Suburban, trying to figure out just what it was about Tasha that had me even considering stepping foot into a kitchen. When I finally cooled off enough to go into the house my parents were sitting in the living room, watching TV.
"Hi honey!" My mom said when she saw me. "Did you have a good time?"
I'd told her I was going to a friend's house for dinner. I had not told her who that friend was. "Yeah," I replied, "I did. Mom? Can I ask you a favor?"
"Sure, Kaden. What is it?"
"Can you teach me how to bake cornbread?"
Both my parents looked up at me when that sentence left my mouth. A few seconds passed before my dad told me they could just pick something up from the bakery if I needed a cake or something for school.
"No," I told them, enjoying the looks of bafflement on their faces. I think my parents were even more surprised by my sudden interest in baking than I was. "I need you to teach me. I need to make it myself."
My mom, confused, picked up her phone. "Sure, Kaden, we can do that - we can try, anyway. I'm going to need to find a recipe online but how difficult can cornbread be?"
"It has to be excellent," I told her, a little more vehemently than I'd intended to. "I mean - I just ate some really good cornbread tonight and I need to, uh, I need to make some in return."
"Just what exactly have you been up to tonight, son?" My father asked, getting up out of his chair and walking over to sniff me ostentatiously for the smell of weed.
"Calm down, dad," I told him, laughing. "I'm actually telling the truth right now - no joke. A friend made me the best cornbread I've ever tasted tonight, and I kind of made an ass of myself, so I need to make up for it."
"A friend, huh?" My mom chimed in, giving me that I-know-you're-talking-about-a-girl look.
I shrugged. "Yeah, a friend. And yes, she's a girl."
"That same girl you took to the game? What did you say her name was - Natalie?"
"Natasha," I corrected her. "Well, Tasha. And I need to go have a shower."
I left my parents to gossip with each other about my romantic life alone, partly because I just didn't enjoy talking about it with them but also because I knew that they had already sensed that something was different with Tasha. That she wasn't one of the girls I usually spent time with.
In the shower, which it took me about ten seconds flat to get into, I was hard again instantly at the memory of the way Tasha had kissed me. I looked down at my cock, standing straight up under the warm shower water. She'd felt me against her thigh, I knew she had. And the sound she'd made when she felt me...
I wrapped one hand around my cock and stroked it down to the base, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth against the urge to let go. What would she look like kneeling in front of me? Would she have that same expression in her eyes, like the only thing she needed on earth was me? Would she put her lips on the very tip of me and let me watch her eyes widen as I pushed slowly into her warm, wet mouth?
Once wasn't enough, either. Ten minutes after stroking myself to an orgasm so hard it made my ears ring I was in bed, hard again, thinking about how warm she'd felt, even through her clothes. Wondering about how wet it made her panties when I ran my fingertips over her tight little nipple. Wet panties. Tasha's wet panties. I came again, all over my belly, and barely managed to clean myself up before falling asleep. Cornbread recipes were going to have to wait until the next day.
Chapter 8: Natasha