Her Wish. His Command.

By

B.J. Frazier

Copyright 2021. All rights reserved

Published by B.J. Frazier Publications, LLC

B.J. Frazier Publications Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work.

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction.

Therefore, all characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination.

Adult Reading Material

ISBN ~ 978-1-957131-08-5

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Her Wish. His Command.

Epilogue.

About B.J. Frazier

Books by B.J. Frazier

Connect with B.J. Frazier

Author’s Note

This book contains erotic fiction with graphic sex and is intended for mature readers only.

My sincere and devoted thanks go to Thomas Antonson for his editing acumen and his uncanny ability to understand which word I really meant to use.

Please visit my website: bjfrazier.com

I know there are a lot of books for sale, and I thank you for choosing mine.

Happy reading,

~B.J.

Severe Content Warning: B.J. Frazier books contain *plots* and *well-developed characters*

Enjoy!

“Her Wish. His Command.”

Grant Hunter waited until senior year in college to make his move on Rachel Anderson. They were among the few in their apartment building who didn’t go on Spring Break.

Grant timed it to appear like he was casually getting his mail at the same time Rachel did. When he got off the elevator and turned into the mail alcove, Rachel was already there. His smile threatened to expose him.

“Oh, hey, I thought I was the only one who didn’t go on Spring Break, heh.” Grant spoke his line the way he’d practiced.

“Don’t you fuckin’ tell me I have to!” Rachel fumed into her phone, not realizing Grant was there.

After his heart dropped, Grant understood. “Oh, sorry,” he mouthed as Rachel turned toward him and jumped back. “I didn’t realize you were on the phone.” He smiled and swayed in a didn’t-mean-to-disturb-you motion.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me!” Rachel clutched her heart.

“I’m sorry--”

“No, not you,” Rachel said into the phone. “Someone in my apartment just snuck up on me. Anyway, I can’t work today. I need to take care of me. You promised.”

Grant’s plan disintegrated at his empty mailbox.

“You promise?!” Rachel’s voice was less agitated. “Fine. But I’m gonna start to close at ten-thirty.”

“Work?” Grant asked when she hung up. Lame! he accused himself.

“Yeah,” she scoffed.

“Where do you work?”

“Cherry on Top.”

“Ice cream place?”

“Yep, my manager promised me a day off, since I’m working full time over break.”

“Sucks. Anything I can do?” Of course there isn’t, dumbfuck!

Rachel chuckled derisively. “Sure. You can clean my apartment, do three loads of laundry and go grocery shopping for me.”

“You know, I can do that.” You’re supposed to be asking her on a date, moron!

“I know you can but you don’t want to. I don’t even want to... but I’d do it if I didn’t have to work.”

“No, I mean, you know, I don’t have anything else to do, and you’re obviously in distress.”

“Yeah, right.” Rachel rolled her eyes and opened her mailbox.

Grant pressed. “Seriously, isn’t this what fairytales are made of? The damsel in distress and the handsome prince dashes in to help?”

He did a Vanna White of his body at “handsome prince”, and Rachel giggled. The warmth he felt when he made her laugh was more than he’d anticipated. Even though he’d had a crush on her for nearly two years, his goal had only been a date.

“Okay. So, Prince...”

“Um... Dashing?” he shrugged and smiled.

“Of course. Aside from just learning your name, Prince Dashing, it wouldn’t be fair if you did all that for me,” she smiled. “Thank you, though... Grant, right?”

“Yeah... and I understand, Rachel.”

He scratched his head, debating whether to repeat his practiced offer. Rachel regarded him first with a frown and then a smile, and tossed her junk mail in the recycle bin.

“Well, now I have to get ready for work.” She walked a couple of steps toward the elevator before spinning on her heels. “But I really wish I did have a Prince Dashing.”

“I’ll, uh, you know, ride back up with you,” Grant muttered. Fucking ask her!

“What floor?” she asked when they got in.

“Six, please.”

“That’s my lucky number,” she said.

“Yeah? Nine’s mine.”

“That’s my floor--oh, you know that.”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

They watched the numbers light up as they ascended.

Now or never!

Ding! “Your floor, Prince Dashing,” Rachel said in her best impersonation of a butler.

“Heh, thanks.”

Grant placed one foot onto the sixth floor and kept one in the elevator. NOW! “Um, so, Rachel, um, you know, I know you don’t have any groceries, and, you know, you can’t eat ice cream for dinner, so, you know, maybe I can make dinner for you while you’re working?”

The elevator tried to close twice during his sentence. Grant had stepped fully onto the sixth floor to better hold the doors.

“Depends on what you’re making,” she flirted.

“Oh, uh, I can make, you know, a lotta things. What do you like?”

“Homemade lobster mac and cheese,” she teased, thinking no male college student would know how to make it.

“No way!”

“What?” she frowned.

“Would you believe I was going to make that anyway?”

While looking at the floor, Grant shrugged with his palms up... at the same time the elevator won the battle. He was surprised to see the metal doors when he looked up.

You’re an idiot.

Grant stared at the elevator for a few minutes, hoping Rachel would reappear. Then, he turned and slumped to his apartment.

Halfway down the hall, he heard a door open behind him. “Hey, Dashing!”

Grant pivoted one-eighty and smiled.

“What the fuck just happened?!” Rachel demanded.

“Huh?”

“You talked about lobster mac, I glanced at a text, and then I was at my floor.”

“Oh,” he smiled broadly. “Well, you know, I, uh, was wondering if you’d believe me that I was going to make lobster mac and cheese tonight.”

“You have a pretty trusting face, Grant, and your alter-ego is Prince Dashing buuut... so here’s the deal. You take me to your kitchen and show me the ingredients right now or fess up to the bullshit.”

Grant reddened. He was extremely shy and usually only spoke to girls if they initiated conversation. At six foot in middle school, he had been awkward and lanky. In college, however, girls flocked to him. His first time was with a girl who triumphantly took his virginity... then dumped him.

Rachel’s playful cockiness--and the fact that she had come back down--was almost too much.

“Oh, well, you know... so you want to see my kitchen?”

“Not unless you want to own up to your lies, boy,” Rachel teased with a wide grin.

“Um, you know, it’s this way.” Grant pointed to his door and began walking. He thought it’d be impolite to tell Rachel that she was wrong.

“Really? I thought you were gonna confess back there. I actually have to get ready for work.”

Grant continued walking in silence, two steps ahead of Rachel. His hand shook as he put the key in the lock and turned the knob. “After you,” he said, making a sweeping motion.

Rachel stepped into a duplicate of her apartment, only Grant’s was cleaner and brighter. “Do you live with a female?”

“Nope, another guy. Ron.”

“But it’s so clean. I mean, I guess I can’t say that girls clean because my apartment is a disaster.”

“You, uh, said you didn’t have time to clean,” Grant offered.

“Yeah, well, even when my roomie’s here, it needs cleaning.”

“Oh.”

Grant watched Rachel survey the living room. There was an air of ownership as she picked up things, inspected them and put them back.

“Well,” she said, heading to the kitchen, “let’s see about your meal planning.”

“Yeah, sure.”

The L-shaped kitchen was to the right of the door. There was an entryway off the dining room and another next to the door.

“See?” Grant asked proudly.

“I see a box of weird noodles and a pot of water. Why do you have the water already in the pot?”

“They’re not weird, they’re fun,” Grant declared. “They’re called cavatappi noodles, and they twist several times.”

Rachel looked at the box and back at Grant with her eyebrows raised. He defended, “Anyone can make elbow mac and cheese.”

“No, you’re right, they’re fun,” she smiled. “But it doesn’t mean it’s for lobster mac... or even mac at all.”

Grant pointed to the fridge, and she opened it. “Holy shit, is everything this organized?”

“Yeah, well, everyone else on the floor went on break. When I’m bored, I like to clean and organize.”

“You had to work, too?”

“Huh?”

“That was an assumption. I mean, how come you’re not on Spring Break?”

“Oh...” He couldn’t tell her she was the reason or that he’d practiced his pitch for months.

Rachel figured he was insecure about needing to work, so she turned back to the fridge. “Holy shit,” she repeated. “I see a buncha cheese, so I guess you’re making mac...”

“The lobster meat is in the freezer,” Grant explained, grateful for not having to come up with an excuse.

“Organized, prepared... but no fresh lobster, huh?”

“I know, but I can’t stand hearing them scream.”

Rachel nodded. “Agreed. So you weren’t bluffing.”

“Nope.” He smiled and looked at the floor.

“Why the water in the pot?”

“Oh, yeah,” he shook his head. “I like to prepare as much as I can beforehand.”

She nodded. “I should really get ready for work.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Right.”

He stepped aside so she could exit. She opened the apartment door but turned to him. “I mean, as long as you’re making my favorite, the least I can do is eat it, right?”

Grant grinned. “Cool. Um, so you don’t get off work ‘til eleven?”

“I told ‘em I’m closing at ten-thirty. It’s mainly just families with the students gone, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay. I’ll wait to make it so it’ll be fresh.”

“My mouth’s watering already. How long does it take?”

“About a half-hour.”

“Okay. I can text you when I’m leaving.”

“Cool.”

Rachel stared at him, and his head spun. “So, I’m gonna need your number, Grant.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah.”

* * * *

“Omigod, I know I’ve said this about a thousand times already, but this is so good!” Rachel said before putting another forkful in her mouth.

“I’m really glad you like it,” Grant smiled.

“Are you going to school to be a chef?”

“No, it’s just something I like to do.”

Rachel nodded. “So, I guess, like, what’s your major?” She bobbed her head side to side, indicating the question was typical.

“Computer science.”

“Nice. What’re you gonna do with it?”

“The IT side of things.”

She nodded and took another bite. “Does that mean you can fix my computer?”

“Maybe. I’d be happy to look at it for you. And what’s yours?”

“Business administration.”

They were eating at the table, which Grant had set with a runner, flowers and candles. Rachel was surprised by the romantic overtones. She made polite comments about how nice it was and how great things smelled when she arrived. During salad and halfway through the main course, they made small-talk. She had sized him up and felt comfortable.

“So Grant, how many girls in the building have you lured back to your bachelor pad here?”

Grant laughed.

“That many, huh?” Rachel tensed.

“What? No,” he shook his head. “I’m laughing because, you know, if you knew me, you’d never ask that question.”

“How come?”

“Because I’m...” he looked around. “I’m not that kinda guy.”

“What kinda guy?”

“The kind who... look, can I be honest with you, Rachel?”

“I always hate that question because it makes me think that, up to now, you’ve been totally dishonest with me.”

Grant looked at her and laughed again.

“What’s so funny this time?” she demanded. She started to think she had misread him.

“What you just said. You’re so right.” He smiled, expecting her to join, but she didn’t. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re upset with me. I... I... no, I don’t lure girls here. I mean, you know, I’ve had some girls over before and--but, like, we were dating. But you know, I mean, I’ve never made an elaborate table thing--is that what you’re upset about? I just thought, you know--”

“Grant, I’m not mad at you.” Rachel knew she hadn’t misread him and decided to put him out of his misery. “I was just joking.”

“Oh. Okay,” he nodded.

“What were you going to be honest about before?”

“Huh? Oh.” He looked at her, shrugged and looked away. “I was gonna tell you that I’m really shy.”

“Really?” Rachel frowned. “I mean, I thought you were sweet but also thought you did this a lot.”

“Nope. So that’s why I laughed.”

“Got it.” And she did get it. She knew he liked her. “So the other girlfriends, did you cook for them?”

“Not much. They all liked to go out or didn’t like my roommate or...”

“Or?”

“Um, I don’t even know if most of them knew I could cook.”

“Wow. How do you date someone and not know their hobbies?”

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