Chapter Eleven

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A/N: For those of you who don't know what a flogger looks like (because IDK, you're an angel or a caveman now discovering internet for Wattpad), check out the image I posted.

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Stay Golden!

-Ender Xen

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Andy's POV

It had taken awhile before Dylan really calmed down, but once he did he was back to his usual self. He actually tried to help in the kitchen after feeding Spotty. Until he accidentally cut a finger as he sliced onions and I benched him to the corner and put a Band-Aid on his finger.

"You're a big softy," He said as I kissed his finger.

"Yes, sometimes," I said. "Other times I'm very... hard." Surprisingly he blushed and I laughed.

I was loving his kitchen. His ovens looked like they were never used before and everything was arranged neatly in drawers. The mark of either a really organized housewife or a bachelor who never cooks. I was making him stuffed chicken breasts with a macaroni salad, and he kept hovering around and peeking at me.

"You know you're super-hot in the kitchen, right?" He grinned as he threw his weight on a counter in a typical bad boy stance.

"Just go set the table," I smacked him with a towel. He groaned in mock frustration as he went to do as I'd asked.

My mind wandered throughout my cooking. I didn't even know what this was but I was sure it qualified as our first date. I wanted him to be happy, and it was for more reasons than one. Now that I was getting to know him I'd realised that the sarcasm and the attitude wasn't really him being arrogant, but that he was protecting himself and hiding his pain. Now I saw it in his eyes, and the moments of quiet as he thought about what to say next. I got the feeling that he was waiting for me to disappoint and hurt him too. Man he had a lot to learn.

"All done," He held up a bottle of expensive looking wine, "This came with the house, and I've never even thought to drink it before."

"God I hope it's good."

"I'm sure it is," he muttered quietly and seemed sad. I didn't prod, not wanting him to get melancholic all over again.

"Wine cooler, just in the cupboard under me," I directed.

He crouched and got on his knees to reach into the cupboard and I just turned and stood still, waiting for him to realise his position. When he finally looked up I sniggered, "I think I just developed a new fantasy."

"What is it with you and kitchens," He muttered before brushing his hands over a budding boner in my jeans. "I'd be lying if I say I don't have a few new ones myself." He began to move his hands, pressing firmly against my bulge.

"That's it," I said, "Time out for you." I pulled him up and latched onto his hand, pulling him as I crossed the room to find my bag which I'd abandoned close to the door. I held up the handcuffs. "You, dining room, now."

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