Текст книги "Bite Me"
Автор книги: Cynthia Dane
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
Even so, I want him. I want to feel his mouth on my body, his arms wrapped around me and filling me with that same warmth from before. It shouldn’t be too much to ask…
Maybe…
In my drunken haze, I suggest something that I will come to regret in due time. Yet right now it sounds so sound that why the fuck wouldn’t I suggest it?
“Let’s have a friendly wager,” I say, stroking his thigh with my fingertips. He’s getting hard. I want his cock in my mouth, but only if I get to tie his hands behind his chair. “About the presentation on Friday.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. One of us will definitely lose… but if one of us wins? Then we get something from the other person.”
“Go on.”
I open my mouth and seal my fate. “The loser has to submit to the other person for one night. Whatever the other person wants. Safe word for only extreme shit.”
Ian considers me for a long time. “You would submit to me?” He sounds genuinely surprised. And intrigued. His hand is dangerously close to my slit.
“Would you submit to me if you lose?”
His smile is ridiculous. It reminds me of Lana’s when she thinks she’s already won. Not so fast, buddy. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.
Ian picks up one of his empty glasses, ice not yet melted. “Deal.”
I hold up another glass. “Deal.”
The glasses clink together.
I have no idea what I’ve done.
Chapter 16
IAN
The woman is insane. Absolutely, unequivocally insane.
Who? Oh, no, not Kathryn. She was drunk, not insane.
No, I’m talking about Lana Andrews, who has informed Kathryn and me that if we woo the council, “we’ll” be forking over $80,000,000 to buy The Grand.
Ha.
Hahahaha!
Who the fuck do she and Ken think they are? The Grand is worth half that, at best. No, it’s not a cheap piece of hot property. And I know they expect us to bargain them down, but from such an astronomical high? This whole charade gets more and more ridiculous as time goes by.
At least it’s Friday and we’re about to get this over with. As soon as Lana shares this bullshit, I turn to Valerie and have her go over everything she brought. I see Kathryn doing the same thing with her assistant. At least this time I saw for myself the nice pictures Kathryn brought. Her father is also with her this time. Probably to make sure she doesn’t fuck up.
Katie is not going to fuck up. She’s got this. I believe in her, and most of all, she believes in herself. I watched her rehearse. I critiqued her and she critiqued me. We both had good ideas for the other person that are sure to make it into our respective presentations.
It’s funny. We would probably make good business partners. We would make awful long-term lovers.
I’m still laughing. I woke up Thursday morning with a headache and a hard-on. I dreamed all night that Katie was on her stomach, on her back, bent over and sucking my cock. Doing whatever I told her to do. Lapping up whatever I offered and puffing out little “sirs” that made me feel like the biggest king in the world. What? She put those ideas in my head Wednesday night, when she made that ridiculous bet.
God, what a dumb bet. Like she would ever submit to me.
Let alone me submitting to her! The idea is so absurd. Regardless of the outcome today, I assume we forget what we promised when we were drunk. She was so blitzed off her drinks that I doubt she even remembers.
Katie – no, I should probably stop calling her that – looks at me before stepping into the council hall. I think there’s a smile on her face.
What is she thinking? I probably don’t want to know.
Just as Valerie confirms everything is in order, everyone and their grandmother enter the hall. It’s an old building that has seen a lot of use over the decades. Centuries, even. Well, maybe one century. I forgot to look at the plaque on the way in here.
Either way, it’s an old, gothic-styled building with ample seating for a small city. Because when this place was built, it was capable of holding the entire region’s population of two-thousand. Since then the city has not only grown to be the biggest in the region, but in this part of America. So to say the place is a bit packed with people who have a lot of feelings about The Grand is an understatement. From the minute we walk inside, we’re surrounded by strangers. Middle and low-income strangers. Many of whom had distant relatives who stayed in The Grand before attempting to make the American dream come true for them.
“We’re going to kick ass,” Kathryn says as we approach the front of the hall. Gray walls covered in stone carvings look down at us in between the judgmental eyes. Anyone who has a vested interest in who we are. It doesn’t help that I’m wearing one of my nicest suits and Kathryn looks like a New England senator in her tight, dark pencil skirt and peplum white blouse. She’s got her hair up, as usual. The glasses are a nice touch. I had no idea she wears them.
“Ma’am,” Anita hisses to her at our table. “One of the lenses is missing…”
“Oh!” Kathryn searches her clutch for an eyeglass lens. Really? She’s faking the eyeglasses? Whatever. They’re cute on her.
Before us is a high table where the council sits. Colleen Woodrow is already here, sitting beside her co-chair, an elderly gentleman who looks at us with disdain. Or maybe that’s how he looks. I’m unfazed either way.
I hope Kathryn feels the same. Both of the Andrews sit off to the side of our table. They’ll be opening the statements, talking about the real estate themselves since that’s what they do best. As for my father? He’s sitting in the first row behind me, giving me thumbs up. And… dear Lord, my mother is with him.
I feel like I’m back in school. This is my recital. Only this time both of my parents are here, instead of one showing up and the other fucking off to go to some conference or whatever.
What I’m saying is that they never both show up unless it’s really important.
This is really important.
Mr. Alison confers with his daughter about something before tugging on one of the tufts of her shirt. I can’t hear what he says about it, but Kathryn grimaces, as if he’s insulted her.
My fingers grip the edge of the table. Valerie has to say my name twice before I respond.
I wish I could say that today is a blur. Instead it drags on and on, partly because the weight of a community weighs on our shoulders. This goes beyond possible gentrification. This downtown area is long gentrified. Like forty years gentrified. No, the people who are here don’t necessarily live in this neighborhood. I know, because it’s people like me who live around here.
The people who are here come because they trace their ancestry here, or they have some connection to The Grand. That’s not hard to imagine because it’s such a monument in the area. Did I mention that presidents used to stay there? Lots of people who have been here for generations like to think they have some part of that history. Or they really love the building.
That’s fine. I still should be able to buy it and do what I want with it. Especially if doing what I want means restoring it to how it used to be!
This lets people feel like they have power. So when Ken Andrews gets up and starts talking about the rustic beauty of The Grand, complete with photos from its heyday, I see people in the stands raise their eyebrows and wait for the other shoe to drop.
“…One-hundred-and-thirty years ago, The Grand opened as more than a luxury hotel in the heart of what was once the downtown core,” Ken says with his regal charm. The man may not be the biggest around, but he carries himself like a big real estate tycoon. His wife looks at him adoringly, her smile supporting him as she crosses her legs and rewards his bravado with a hint of skin. These sorts of things don’t go by unnoticed with me.
Kathryn notices it too. She glances over her shoulder at me with a “Really? They’re flirting now of all times?” look. I agree. Tacky.
“The Grand is a place of history. It’s culture. It’s a building that everyone in this room can respect and want to see be great again. That’s why we are here today to propose a beautiful restoration. Not only will we….” We? Speak for yourself, Ken. You’re washing your hands of this whole situation. “…Will we restore the hotel from the ground up, but it will be more economically efficient and true to history than ever before. Not only that, but it will include an educational center so locals and tourists alike can learn more about the area’s rich history. I would like to turn the floor over to Ian Mathers, head of restoration and development.”
That’s my cue.
Valerie has set up my presentation for me. All I have to do is connect with my inner public speaker and remind these people that my family are some of the biggest hospitality masters in the business. We’re not targeting The Grand for shits and giggles or to prove to the world what big shots we are. We know how good we are. There’s a reason we have the highest collective revenue out of any other holding company in the region. We win the biggest awards in the world. Our hotels are the fucking best and we know it.
The design firm has done a remarkable job making our visions come to life. They’re blown up ten times the usual size now so most of the people around us can see the careful attention to historical accuracy and detail. We fully intend to make the hotel look like it came out of 1885. Even the uniforms we’ve picked out for the staff hark to that time.
“Staying true to the original vision of Humphrey Livingston is important to all of us at Mathers & Co.” I pause for effect, hoping it’s sinking in. The council is paying close attention, and neither of the Andrews have frowned. Even my parents look quite pleased with my ability to keep the audience placated. “Unfortunately some things must be replaced due to safety and environmental concerns, but we fully intend to replace them with better models that have the aesthetic of those faraway days. When you walk into the newly renovated Grand, you’ll be walking into the past.” Valerie unveils another photo showing a ball from 1896. She did a bang-up job dragging that out of the local archives.
It takes forty-five minutes for me to get through my spiel. You can’t tell from looking at me, but by the end I’m ready to collapse in my chair and let Kathryn take over. It’s hard business standing on your feet for that long and be charming with minimal breaths and sips of water. Still, that’s why I do this and my father doesn’t.
“Thank you for your consideration,” I say, and I receive a polite round of applause. “I would like to turn it over to our family’s partner, Kathryn Alison, head of cultural preservation.”
She stands, resolute, a far cry from the disorganized woman she was two weeks ago. Lana Andrews heaves a sigh of relief as Kathryn’s presentation starts without a hitch.
Five minutes in, I realize she’s out for blood.
This isn’t my Katie, the wolfish woman who bites her prey before howling like a lustful queen when pinned against a wall. This is Kathryn Fucking Alison, the woman who singlehandedly saved an entire library system by the grace of her own will. This is the woman who flipped off every person – in her family and outside of it – who told her that she should get married and focus on being a businessman’s wife. You think I never heard about that? It runs rampant in our world, and my mother has always ranted about it. I can see her sitting there now, beaming in pride more for Kathryn than she did for me. I don’t take it personally. It’s probably some female solidarity thing.
Wearing that peplum top, pencil skirt, hair bun, and glasses, Kathryn looks like a stately professor, like the kind who teaches at Oxford, Harvard, pick an elite university. She’s passionate enough to be one of those. Right now she’s standing in front of the council, vehemently telling them that the current state of museums is a sorry excuse for educational institutions. She’s done her homework. Even I didn’t know that the one museum in the area hasn’t had an update of any kind in the past seven years. She’ll probably try to change that too.
“This heritage museum isn’t an ego stroke for our families,” she declares, slapping her pointer against a picture on an easel. “It’s about the legacy of every family in this area, going all the way back to the first settlers in 1745. Some of those families aren’t around anymore. That’s unfortunate, but that doesn’t mean they have to be forgotten. Take, for instance, the Lovejoys, who opened the first modern post office across the street from where The Grand is now. Nobody by the name of Lovejoy exists in the area now – I know, because I checked the Census. But we all know who they were. It’s those types of people we want to immortalize in the museum that will be going in the South Wing of the newly renovated Grand.”
I’m woefully uneducated on what kind of stuff is going on in the museum part. I’ve been so consumed with the renovations and turning it back into a thriving business instead of an abandoned building. Well, with that and the fact that every time Katie looks in my direction, her pencil skirt hugging her ass and her peplum top accentuating her hips and breasts… fuck me, she’s so damned hot.
Maybe I’ve got a thing for the naughty schoolteacher. Which is funny, because I’m the kind of guy who usually doesn’t go for that. Too domineering. Then again, Kathryn is a Domme, and a damn good one from what I hear.
I suppose it’s okay to find that hot. Doesn’t mean I want her Topping me. It only means I can appreciate a woman carrying a stiff pointer and slamming it against everything around her.
Those glasses making her look so serious.
That business-like hairdo that I’ve already had the pleasure of undoing mid-coitus
Those shoes, low to the ground for comfort, but still so feminine.
That ass, begging me to hold it, squeeze it, feel it flex in my hands.
Those beautiful pink lips that kiss so good and probably give even better head.
You don’t understand. I barely understand how much I want to make her mine.
All the people around me disappear as I sit behind a table and watch the way she moves, gliding from one side of the hall to the other, her voice carrying, echoing so everyone can hear her power. Her confidence is intoxicating. I’ve seen a lot of men who were so full of themselves that you wanted to go up to them in the middle of their presentations and punch them right in the face. You don’t feel that way with Kathryn. Instead, you’re enthralled. I can now see why she steamrolled that grant and accomplished anything else she set her mind out to do.
See? I knew she had it in her.
What I didn’t see was how turned on I would be by the whole thing.
I’m not sporting anything embarrassing, but I’m getting dangerously close. Yeah, last thing I fucking need is to stand up later and have the whole community see what makes me a man sticking out and saying hello. Anyone with half a brain will know that Kathryn caused it, too. Our parents are here. I need to have some damned dignity.
If I have any left.
It’s getting harder to convince myself that I’m not insanely attracted to Kathryn Alison. I honestly thought that having sex would be like getting those emotions out of the way. All right, I did that. I now know what it’s like to feel her writhe against me. Got it out of my system. Time to move on my merry way and find the next woman I want to take for a spin.
Except both my mind and my body have other ideas.
Kathryn finishes her speech, imploring the council to consider setting up the museum first, as it can benefit the entire community. Too bad it won’t make us back our investment faster. That’s what the hotel is for. But I’m not going to say anything.
I’m too busy staring at her chest anyway.
Applause thunders in my head before I know what else is going on. I snap back to attention and see Kathryn sitting down next to me, her perfume reminding me of what it was like to bury my face in her throat. She closes her folders, trying to suppress a grin.
I should congratulate her on such a fine job. By all accounts, everyone is chatting about what the Alison museum is going to bring to the community. I feel like a philanthropist by proxy.
Well, looks like Kathryn is going to win our little bet. Too bad I’ll conveniently forget all about it and act like I don’t know what she’s talking about when she inevitably brings it up.
Nobody said that I honor my drunken promises I make without signing anything in my blood. Or even without my blood.
We shake some hands. I kiss my mother’s cheek. The Andrews commend us for a job well done. “We’ll be selling, for sure,” Lana says. “We’ll have to wait to hear about what plan to go with first.”
Who cares? Once they sell to us, they’ll be washed of it all. Then our work begins.
“You did a fine job,” Kathryn says when we have a bit of time to ourselves. The assistants are dismantling the materials and putting them away. Most of the people are filing out, but more are stopping to ask either of our fathers a few questions.
“You weren’t so bad yourself.” Her perfume is still poisoning me. The closer she gets, intending to pick up some folders off the table, the more I am tempted to look at the bend of her hips and the soft flesh poking from her skirt. I feel like Ken Andrews being taunted by his wife during his introductions. “I mean… I don’t often get to see that side of you.”
She stands, lips drawn back in a mischievous smile that starts to drive me wild. “You’ll see a lot more of it once they choose my project to start things off with.”
Shit. She does remember.
“Yeah… can I talk to you about that?” I put a hand on her arm to get her attention. Just a friendly gesture to anyone looking. But Kathryn looks down at my hand as if I’m biting her.
I could, you know.
“Don’t know if now’s the time.”
I made a grave mistake in touching her, because now everything south of the border is charged in electricity. My thighs have that familiar heat to them. Heat that says fuck this woman.
Great. Great.
Usually I don’t fall prey to my own instincts like this. Normally I’m a calm and collected man who waits until the door closes before I succumb to my basic, carnal instincts.
Usually, okay?
Yet there’s something about Kathryn that makes me sweat. Having sex with her only made things worse. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be in this situation. Sure, I would still be curious, but I doubt I would feel this driving, pulsing need to feel her all over again. I’ve tortured myself by having carnal knowledge of her. Her body begs me to take her again. Does she know that in her head? If she does, she’s not really letting on.
I’ll find out. I have to.
“Let’s find some privacy,” I say, attempting to guide her away from the fray of people.
She follows, unsure, I let go of her arm once I’m sure I have her in my web. It would look weird if I’m hauling her off to an empty room upstairs.
We have to talk. I need to talk.
Except it’s not talking I do once we’re upstairs in a hallway. It’s not a single word I utter once I find an empty room, full of overturned chairs and a table pushed against the wall.
I use my mouth a lot. But not to talk.
Chapter 17
IAN
“Ian!” Kathryn’s shock is palpable, as if I can touch it beneath her skin as I push her up against the wall and kiss her.
Hesitating, I wait for her to say no. To push me away. I wait. I hear nothing but the beating of my own heart and the breaths rushing out of her throat. I feel nothing but the heat of her skin and my blasted cock straining against my pants.
She’s hesitating too. I can sense it within her. Oh, she wants me back as much as I want her. Kathryn just wasn’t planning on us doing it right now.
You don’t know how happy I am when she kisses me back, her hands clutching my face and the rest of her body inching closer to mine, famished and needy.
Oh, fuck.
There’s nothing glamorous, nothing romantic about what we do. I’m lifting her onto the table, pushing that skirt as high as it will go while she rips open my shirt, one button popping off and falling to the floor. I don’t give a fuck. She can destroy my shirt for all I care. All I care about is sinking my hand into her heat and feeling how aroused I’ve already made her.
Ha! Already? She’s probably been wanting this as much as I have. I don’t often read women the wrong way. Just because Kathryn and I aren’t compatible as romantic partners, doesn’t mean we don’t make a helluva pair of lovers sometimes.
Yet I can’t lie. I want to yank that hair, bite that flesh, and spank her so hard that she squirms away from my cock every time I come near her – because she can’t help it. Because she needs it so badly that her body doesn’t want to let her have it. It’s one of the most exquisite reactions a Dom like me can witness, and I know I’m not going to get it right now.
Fuck I don’t fucking care I just want to fuck her.
“Katie.” I growl her beautiful name over and over, squeezing her breasts through her blouse, feeling my cock fill with blood every time she gasps. This fucking top. It was so hot watching her strut around in it earlier, but now I have no idea how to get to her tits without ruining her outfit. The best I can do is reach my hand up the bottom and claw away her bra, pinching her nipples and listening to her cry out in the most delectable pain you’ve ever heard.
“Say it again,’ she begs, and oh God do I love her begging. That little whine in her voice. Fluttering. Unwavering. “Say my name.”
I’m losing myself, but I’m still with it enough to suck on her ear, plunging my tongue deep within it, letting my voice roll off my feral tongue. “Kathryn.”
She’s shuddering. Her legs are spreading around my hips. Her moans are so simple yet lustful, and just fuck me sideways like I want to fuck her sideways, because I’m completely losing my mind listening to and feeling her come undone like this.
I nearly rip her blouse trying to tear it off her torso. Kathryn lifts her arms, letting me toss it to the side as I attack her breasts with my mouth and hands. So soft. So supple and malleable. They’re the perfect size and 100% real. I can’t get over her areolas. I can’t get over the fact that I remember a word like “areola” right now.
They’re so round. So elastic. Every time my lips tug at them they get harder, and Katie moans, her hand clutching the back of my neck and threatening to bring me closer.
Oh, I will get closer.
“I want you.” She’s not whining anymore. This is that confident woman who strutted around her presentation, cutting off testicles and mounting them on her fireplace like treasures. She’ll take mine too – but in a completely different way. “Fuck me, Ian. Fuck me right now!”
I open her legs wider, tearing away her underwear and plunging my thumb into her warmth. She’s aroused. Of course she’s aroused. She’s begging me to fuck her, and now she’s got my thumb inside her, twisting around, searching for her wetness. There’s not enough.
The table creaks as I nearly drop to my knees to fully taste her for the first time.
“Ian!” Breathy, raspy, I dunno how to describe it. My nose is so full of her scent that I can’t help but lick the length of her slit, fondling her clit with my tongue and tasting everything that is Kathryn Alison. It doesn’t take long for that sweet and bitter taste to hit my tongue.
I want more.
I want her so wet that she devours my cock. I’ve got one hand around it now as she pulls my hair. I’m eagerly stroking myself, making sure I’m good and fucking hard for her, because the wetness is washing my tongue and I know we don’t have much time.
Crazier quickies have been had in my life. Yet this is giving me such a rush that it’s all I can do to keep myself from coming right now.
Her thighs hug my face. Her hips are so solid in my hands. Everything about her body screams for me to take her. All I want is to hear her voice say it again.
“I swear to God, Ian, if you don’t fuck me right now I will scream until somebody hears.”
I want to ask her what that will accomplish, but I get the point. I kiss her thighs, her stomach, her beautiful breasts as I ascend her body and find her naughty lips.
Kathryn wraps her legs around my hips and attempts to thrust against me, but the table contains her, and for a brief moment I fully enjoy this kick-ass Domme attempting to swallow my cock with her greedy body.
I’m doing this to her. I’m turning her into a fiend who only wants one thing.
Me.
I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet. I know better than to tempt fates and take her bare. Even though it interrupts our flow. Even though she looks as if she’s going to eat me whole if I don’t hurry the hell up and wrap a condom around my erection. It’s unbearably hard by now. I don’t know if you know what it feels like, but all this guy can think about is how good it’s going to feel penetrating a woman for the first time today – and how well he can savor it.
“Holy fuck!”
I concur. It feels fucking fantastic to slip myself in, to feel her warm, soft inner walls surround the length of my cock. A man can’t get this with his hand. He can only get it from the perfect woman for him.
I’ve barely entered her, but I pull my tip out, teasing her entrance as I attempt to control the excited sensations in my cock. Oh, who am I kidding? You can’t control it. All you can control is the rate at which they attack your brain, yearning to empty the heat into the perfect creature you find yourself embedded in.
There’s only me. There’s only her. I’m taking her, pushing slowly at first, and then driving my cock deep into her, feeling her muscles clamp onto and massage my cock.
Women are so greedy. Whether they’re innocent or demure, or raging sex fiends who take every cock to pass their way, they are all the fucking same once you get inside them. The female body has this majestic way of holding onto you, drawing you in deeper until your sack hits their skin and makes you feel like you’re going to end everything right there. But you hold on. For your pleasure, for hers.
Because you need to fuck her.
It’s not enough to hold yourself in her. Everything in your body is screaming at you to thrust, thrust, thrust, and you obey, because you’re a simple man at the end of the day. Besides, no matter what else you enjoy in life, nothing feels as good as this. Men wait forever to feel the slick wetness around their shafts. To feel the head of his cock caress the ridges of her sensitive G-spot that begins to make her groan and writhe. And when she starts writhing? Holy fuck. She’s squeezing you, she’s greedily pulling you in and demanding that you give her your seed. It’s all biological, I’m sure. A way to ensure we men inseminate these women. But even though reproduction isn’t required for sex anymore, we still get these fucking fantastic benefits of a gorgeous woman like Kathryn Alison squeezing and coaxing our cock to come.
I’m not seventeen anymore, Katie. I can hold it until I feel you come first. God, that is the fucking best. Right now… shit, shit, right now you’re so fucking tight around me, your breasts beneath my mouth as your whimpers of pleasure consume the parts of my brain that aren’t focused on what’s going on inside of you. Because you’ve got me by the cock, and you’re one greedy, greedy woman, aren’t you, Kathryn?
Take it. I can’t hold it any longer. You’re coming, your swollen clit rubbing against my cock every time it pulls out of you long enough to thrust back in. Your nipples are so hard that my lips can’t do anything more to them besides make them wet with my saliva. Your face is so scrunched up in pleasure that now I’m only going to focus on these sensations and nothing else.
I enter the point of no return. It’s happening. My body is losing control, and it feels so fucking good to pretend I’m not wearing a condom and right now every shot of my seed is filling your pussy as you take it from me.
There’s this two second window where everything is nothing. It’s perfection. It’s bliss. In those two seconds we’re so connected that I both want to run away from you and to never let you go again. My brain is filling with endorphins. Dangerous endorphins.
Endorphins that tell me I love you.
Usually they’re easy to ignore. I indulge them long enough to enjoy the moment, but then I’m back to my senses and the mess we’ve created in our need for each other. Except you’re different. Shit, I felt it the first time we fucked, and now I feel it again.
I don’t want to let go of those endorphins.
I want to pretend that we’re in love. I want to keep kissing you, like I am right now, my cock losing its hardness inside of you, but neither of us want to pull away.
“Don’t move,” you say. Your whimper is so loving that I have no choice but to obey you this one time. “Ian…”
Kathryn’s knee is so high in the air from being bent and spread that I can easily kiss it. She sighs, opening up around me in a bid to get me hard again. No, it’s too soon. I’m sorry. I’m better than when I was as a younger man, but I’m still human, Katie.
I kiss her breast, her lips once more before forcing myself to pull out. Right away I imagine her lying on my bed, naked, her nether lips spread open so I can watch my claim on her fall down her skin. That’s not going to happen. She’s the type of Domme who doesn’t do that.
I want to convince you otherwise, Katie.
“Wow.” She eases her legs shut, gently, and I can only imagine how tender her stretched muscles are right now. “Wow.”
I don’t have to ask if she came. I felt it. Unlike a lot of other men, I don’t find it hard to make a woman orgasm during sex. I also know what one feels like, so there’s that.
“Wow.” I kiss her as the word falls from my lip.
“I’m serious.” She nibbles my lips, her soft hands back on my face. It may sound funny, but it kinda makes me feel safe. “That was as much a mindfuck as it was a pussyfuck.”
“Come again?”
Kathryn slips off the table and fixes her skirt. She fetches her peplum top off the floor and scurries to put it back on. I suppose we should clean up and get out of here. One of these days, Katie, I’m taking you to bed and holding you there for a whole night.
