Fae Issues
“I’ll see you for lunch.” I kiss Jared goodbye for the tenth time. This is our second attempt at leaving each other—for all of five hours.
“Mm. Lunch. We can drive around and find a place.”
“How far do you want to go?”
“All the way,” he whispers, hands rubbing my back.
How can such a tender, soothing touch make me feel like someone spiked my lady bits with aphrodisiac lube? “I find the best things in random places. I have a sixth sense.”
“You found me right next door.”
We giggle, and there’s another kiss in the doorway as I inch away one second, then cling to him the next. I tell myself I’m only going across the alley, but it feels like one of my organs is being ripped out at the thought of putting distance between us.
“I know you probably want space, otherwise, I’d offer to come over and meet the cat. Dust the shelves. Water the plants,” he offers. I know he’s trying to joke—while being dead serious. After last night, I’d offer to rearrange my schedule to be near him, too.
Be smart. You need space. I’m sure it always feels like this the morning after.
I check my past experiences.
Nope. Never.
Shit.
“I’ll see you at one, and then we’ll drive out into the little towns up and down the Endless Mountain, into Pennsylvania, and search a couple of junk shops I love between here and Antonia. We’ll find a place to eat out on the way.”
Jared nods, but his eyes are glazed. When I look right into them, I see flashes, little hints, like I did last night, of the woman with the red hair.
Now I see us pulled over on a deserted, winding road, me in the backseat, legs hanging out the open door, and Jared kneeling over me, mouth fastened to my swollen pussy, his fingers stroking in and out of me.
I squeak. “Jared!”
“What?” He jumps guiltily.
“Were you just thinking about...” I pause. “Us pulled over on the side of the road?”
He’s so adorable when he looks guilty. He even ducks his head. “I like that it makes you feel so good. You’re so powerful, and when I make you feel good, I feel... worthy of you.”
The hell with it. The shop can wait another hour. I do a full-on swoon, the kind where I collapse into his big, burly arms like a damsel with her corsets laced too tight. “You are worthy. So worthy. You don’t have to do that just to please me.”
“I also think it’s so hot, being so close. And you glow in the dark—in a gentle way, not like a glowstick way, and I can see everything up close and... Is that a pervy thing to think it’s hot to see you, taste you, and touch you all at once? Down there? Patsy said—”
I let out a little shriek that would probably put Patsy on the floor. “I don’t care what she said. It’s hot as fuck. Now, take your robe back off.”
“Honey, you said you had to—”
“I wanna suck your cock like you’ve been sucking on me. Do it, or the roses die.” I threaten, one eyebrow arched high as I channel my inner sinister banshee bitch. I whisper, “I’m only kidding. I wouldn’t hurt my bouquet. Ilovemy bouquet.” I love him, too. I want to be close to him like he’s close to me. And by the sudden hardness I feel against my rear, he doesn't mind.
“The shop can wait,” he agrees, and kicks the door shut.
THE SHOP HAS BEEN PRETTYdead, and I’m glad. I’ve been humming and dancing around between my apartment and the register, showering (again), playing with Marmalade, getting ready, texting my best friends in town—Georgia and Gloria, who have both recently gotten married, and ask if they felt like their hearts were superglued together after just one time.
And after the squealing, Georgia says yes, and Gloria says sort of, and I have to remember that Gloria is a ghost, and she died before superglue was even a thing.
It’s time to face the ultimate test.
“Hi, Mum.”
