I think, trying to focus, but all I notice is that Kassam's really incredible butt is staring at me as he peruses the contents of my fridge.
Oh! Right. I was going to tell him to leave. Funny how that doesn't seem half as important as going over to him and just taking a bite out of that bubble butt—
Kassam turns. His face lights up with pleasure at the sight of me, even as he takes a bite out of a stick of butter, the paper still on. "Carly. You are awake."
"What…what are you doing?" I take a step forward. "Why are you eating butter?"
"I am eating everything," he announces cheerfully. "Come, try all these new experiences with me."
New experiences? Gnawing on a stick of butter? I mean, I've never done it, but I've also never wanted to. Kassam takes my hand, leading me toward the kitchen, and I'm not entirely surprised to see wrappers all over the floor. There are open boxes all over the counters, single bites taken out of my favorite breakfast pastries, and coffee grounds everywhere. It's chaos on every surface, melted things pooling on the countertop. Even more curious…my herb plant, the one I got when I decided I might try gardening, the one near death because I also abandoned gardening, has gone crazy overnight. Tendrils snake across the countertops, and it's grown so quickly and so wildly that it covers the entire stove.
What the hell?
For a moment, I stare at it, dumbfounded. Is this one of those weird situations like in the movies where I'm going to find out I've been asleep for three years instead of three hours? "What…my plant…"
"It was dying," Kassam says. "Now it is not." His arm slides around my waist and he pulls me against him, tossing down his stick of butter. "Come here."
Then, he kisses me. His lips taste like butter and his mouth like coffee grounds, but there's no denying that his kiss is utterly intoxicating. I moan as his tongue dances with my own, and he kisses me so hard and so deep that I forget almost everything. My toes curl on the cold floor, and when he drags me forward onto his thigh, I rub shamelessly against it, my pussy hot and wet and ready.
"Ah….I missed you," he murmurs, as if we've been parted for years. Kassam's buttery hands slide to my ass, rubbing it in deep, dirty circles that make me want to go and have sex with him. Again.
Reluctantly, I put a hand on his chest, pulling my mouth from his. "Kassam," I pant. "I…I can't think straight when I'm around you."
To my surprise, he grimaces. "It is the hedonism. I know. You will get used to it soon enough." He leans in and presses one more kiss to my lips, this one light and flirty. "Come. Let me feed you."
Feed me?
I let him lead me to the countertop, and when he hoists me up onto it, I realize he has no intention of using a table or anything mundane like that. My butt and thighs stick to something gritty on the counter—probably spilled sugar—and he rummages through the icebox, looking for things to eat. With delight, he holds up a small jar. "What is this? It looks good."
I shake my head quickly. "That's chopped garlic. It's not a food on its own, just for cooking. Put it back."
His face falls with disappointment, but then he pulls out something else, a bright red ketchup bottle. The look he gives me is boyish. "Is this a food on its own?"
"Not…really? It's a condiment. You can taste it, though?" I reach over and flip the lid open. "Squeeze it and it will squirt out."
Kassam gives it an enthusiastic squeeze and a fountain of bright red ketchup spurts into the air, and then splatters on my floor. He laughs, delighted, and then squirts the next bit into his mouth.
"You're kind of a terrible house guest," I tell him. Something tickles my leg and I'm surprised to see that the plant tendrils are touching my thigh. I didn't realize my plant was that big. I run my fingers over one of the leaves, and the darn thing has never looked so damn healthy. "Did you do something to my plant?"
"It is me," he says around a mouthful of ketchup. "I am a god. The plants will respond to my presence."
"I don't understand," I say, shaking my head. I could have sworn I heard him say “god” but that can't be right. "I think my brain is fogged again."
"You will get used to it, Carly," he promises, tossing aside the now empty ketchup bottle and peering back into my perpetually empty fridge. "You do not have many things to taste."
"I eat out," I tell him faintly. When he leans over, I get a good look at his body, and lord have mercy, he's insanely gorgeous. There's not an ounce of fat on him, and his cock, even in its resting state, is a thing of beauty. His hair has dried long and wavy and cascades down over his shoulders in a thick, tangled mane that looks soft and shiny, and he's gorgeous. Even with a mouthful of ketchup and butter in his beard, he's fucking stone-cold gorgeous.