Thank you for the wonderful comments on the first chapter. I'm having fun with this one. By the way... Today's my birthday! If I had a place to wear them, I would get a certain item linked below...

Chapter Two—Mia

"God gave you those long legs for a reason," Kate teased, her eyes sparkling with champagne-fueled mischief. "Next time he springs from the bed after sex, wrap 'em around him and keep him there."

Just a half hour ago, Kate Kavanaugh, a whirlwind in a Burberry trench coat, stormed into the Zig Zag Café, her smile a ray of sunshine on a dreary Seattle afternoon. Our weekly champagne lunch was usually a gossip fest, but I decided to bare my soul today. No more facades. At this lunch, the only barrier between us would be the bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

I topped off my flute. "So, he's trapped. Now what? What do I do?"

"Well, give him a reason to stay, silly! Show him a fun time. Fuck him crazy." When I remained silent, she paused, her playful demeanor turning severe. "You're quiet. What are you not telling me?"

"Um, well... Sean's my first," I confessed, my cheeks heating.

Kate's expression widened. "Oh, oh." She leaned closer. Her voice lowered to just above a whisper when she said, "I always assumed you had lovers in Paris."

I let out a little laugh. "No. I was there to study. There are a few dates here and there, but not much more than underneath-the-shirt stuff. And Sean… Well, we had sex after the gala. He's perfect on paper, Kate. Great job, good family, wants to get married. My parents love him."

Kate shook her head and tsked. "Those 'perfect on paper' guys are often the worst in bed. Probably counts out the rhythm in his head."

I laughed a bit too loudly, trying to hide the truth. Kate wasn't too far off.

"How does he make you feel? How was your first time with him?"

In the beginning, things were good. He'd made me feel like a total princess. Now, more often than not, I felt like I was carrying the load. I planned the dates, cooked breakfast, and even watched his Golden Retriever, Betsey Ross, when he'd attended a D.C. caucus event.

"Our first time had been incredible. He'd done all the things to make me feel like I mattered. There were flowers and wine and soft music. It was romantic."

"That counts for something." She looked at the mirrored wall behind me with a faraway look. "My first time was not good." She winced. "But this isn't about me."

There was something more there, and it pained me that Kate didn't cherish the memories of losing her virginity. I placed my hand on top of hers, pulling her back to the restaurant with me. She flashed a weary smile.

When she softened her expression to her usual friendly warmth, I continued, "Kate, he's distracted because he's been busy starting a generative AI company. I don't want to add to his stress. I want to be his peace."

"You know what brings a man peace? A blowjob. Here's what you do. Push him onto his back and take control. Show him you're a woman with desires, not a porcelain doll to be played with."

I swallowed hard, stunned by her bluntness. The champagne fizz blurred my vision. "Is that what you and Eliot…?" The words had tumbled out before I could stop them. Tipsy as I was, I didn't want a detailed account of my brother's sex life.

Besides, I was well aware of my brother's reputation, and it wouldn't be surprising if he and Kate swung from the chandeliers while a fireworks display boomed behind them.

Meanwhile, it felt like a damp firework with Sean, fizzling out before it ignited.

Kate reached across the table, squeezing my hand. "Now is not the time, but one day we'll discuss the power of the pussy. And you, my dear, are sitting on a prime piece of luxury."

I gasped. The word 'pussy' always made me cringe. The French had a much more elegant term: 'la chatte,' a perfect word that conjures the images of little soft kitties wearing bright pink bows and berets.

Kate chuckled at my reaction and pressed forward. "Mia, our bodies are powerful. We give life. Any man who doesn't understand isn't worthy of having it. But we must show them who we are and what we desire. You're Mia fucking Grey. And don't you ever forget it."

Kate's words were a salve to my wounded ego. Maybe, just maybe, there was still hope with Sean.

"First," Kate said, her eyes twinkling, "we'll finish this champagne, and you'll share the drama involving Jose. And after that, we'll return to my place and figure out how to show Sean what an incredible woman you are."

A hesitant smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "Lessons?"

"Yes. But first, finish that steak. You deserve a good piece of meat."

I wasn't ready to give up on Sean just yet. Tonight, I was going all out. I slipped into a black Maison Lejaby bodysuit, a sheer masterpiece of lace and tulle. Paired with silk pajamas and towering Mach & Mach stilettos, I felt undeniably sexy.

The setting sun's soft glow reflected the calm waters of Elliot Bay. But Sean was oblivious, his eyes glued to his phone. The sounds of the Mariners-Mets hummed softly in the background.

I stepped into his line of sight, unbuttoning my top and letting it fall to the floor. The pajama bottoms followed, pooling at my feet. I stood there and waited for his reaction. After ten seconds, I cleared my throat. His gaze flickered up, surprise crossing his face.

Kate's trio of confidence, touch, and communication echoed in my mind. The goal was a night of fiery passion.

I took a deep breath, the sheer black fabric clinging to my curves like a second skin. With newfound confidence, I approached him, gently taking his phone and setting it aside. I moved behind him and massaged his shoulders, my fingers kneading the knots in his shoulders.

"You seem stressed," I murmured. I leaned in, nipping at his earlobe.

He groaned, a low rumble in his throat. "Long day."

He patted the cushion beside him. I walked around and slid onto his lap, our bodies pressing together. A soft kiss blossomed between us and intensified into a passionate embrace. As our lips moved in sync, I shifted, straddling him, pressing my pussy against him. Stars shot behind my eyelids as his arousal pulsed against mine.

"Sean, I want to try something new," I whispered, barely audible, "we've kissed. You've fingered me. Now, I want to experience your mouth on my clit."

He leaned back and looked at me, a frown creasing his forehead. The confusion in his eyes shattered my carefully constructed fantasy.

"What's going on, Mia?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion.

"What do you mean?" I stammered.

"This talk about oral sex and this get up," he said, gesturing towards my lingerie with a bewildered look. "I thought you were a good girl."

My cheeks burned. Communication—failing miserably. "I am not a good girl," I began, forcing the words out, "I'm a woman who wants heat and passion and love. And I want you to think of me when you jack off and be eager to satisfy me."

He looked at me with sheer disgust.

I ignored it and continued, "It hurts when we don't cuddle after sex."

He blinked and shook his head. "I-I'm sweaty from doing all the work."

"Oh, really? I guess giving a blow job isn't work, huh? Maybe you should try it sometime. See how sweaty that can get." I tempered my response with a sigh. "Sean, I don't want to argue. I want you to hold me after sex."

"Mia, I shower because I have no interest in feeling juicy."

Juicy? Did this guy say he didn't want to feel juicy?

Sean stared at me for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then, to my utter disbelief, he chuckled. "Mia, come on," he said, shaking his head. The amusement in his voice was like a slap in the face. "We've been together for two months. Don't you think this is a bit… much?"

The anger simmering beneath the surface finally boiled over. "This isn't about 'much,' Sean," I snapped. "This is about wanting more, about feeling connected. Don't you get it?"

In response to his silence, tears welled up in my eyes. I pushed off him, the tulle of the bodysuit wedging between my ass cheeks. Once steady, I stomped to the television, yanked on my pants, and threw on my top, not bothering to button it.

He sighed, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. "Look, I appreciate the effort," he said, the words dripping with condescension, "but honestly, I'm not really in the mood for games."

Games? This wasn't a game. This was my heart laid bare, a plea for him to meet me halfway. The anger morphed into a deep, crushing fury.

"Actually, Sean," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands, "I'm letting you know…Playtime is over. I'm done."

I turned and walked towards my bedroom. My movements were on autopilot as I tossed his clothes, body wash, toothpaste, flossers, and mouthwash into his designer duffle bag.

As I zipped it up, Sean appeared in the doorway, confused. "What are you doing?" he asked.

I met his gaze, my eyes filled with a newfound clarity born from the ashes of my hope. "I'm packing your stuff," I said. "It's time for you to go."

"Virgins," he groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I should have dated someone more experienced. Why didn't I listen? Should've gone for Kate Kavanaugh instead."

"Fuck you." Before he could respond, I pushed him out of my bedroom and slammed the door.