“Why didn’t you walk out when you saw me Sunday?”
“Because I didn’t want to,” he answered quicker than I expected.
My heart thudded at a wild cadence. What was I supposed to say to that?
“Why?” is what I settled on. And I knew I sounded like a three-year-old going through the “why” stage, but I couldn’t stop the question if I tried.
“Why didn’t I want to leave?”
I moved my head up and down on my pillow in a drowsy semblance of a nod.
Rico cleared his throat, gliding his tongue over his teeth before he answered, “Because I liked what I saw. And I wanted to keep seeing it.”
I wasn’t naked today and it was a good thing because I had a chub forming from his confession.
“You look good as fuck when you come, Christian.” His hand was on top of his durag, rubbing against the material. “Especially when you had your legs open like that. I’ll never get that image out of my mind.”
I’d never get it out of my mind either.
“Is that why you took the panties? Because you wanted to remember it?”
“We can go with that.” Mischief coated his words and I was too tired to decipher what he wasn’t saying.
“I think I like it when you watch me...want you to keep doing it,” I trailed.
I didn’t know if this conversation was a figment of my imagination or if I’d wake up and remember it all. Either way, I liked what I was feeling right now.
“Trust me, Chris. I’ll keep watching you. Until you tell me you want something different.”
I tried to nod again but it was like pulling my head out of mud. Impossible.
The bed dipped again and sandalwood was all around me. His skin was touching mine. I relaxed deeper into the soft sheets. This was peace. I was sure of it.
His voice came through strong as I faded back to sleep.
“I won’t touch you unless you tell me to.” He kissed my temple. “And one day, I really hope you fucking tell me to.”
Forbidden Fruit
Today was a good day.
I had Rico’s credit card in my pocket, a bucket of rum punch in my hands and the sun shining on my skin.
The local band we’d stayed here after midnight sound checking was on the amphitheater stage going through a medley of 90s R&B songs.
People were dancing. Smiling. Happy.
I didn’t know how he did it, but Mr. Tiny had managed to get my grandma up out of her lawn chair to do a two-step beside him.
“They’re so fucking cute.” I grinned to myself, stopping in my tracks to pull my phone out of my pocket and snapped a zoomed in picture of them.
She’d go back to saying he got on her nerves tomorrow, but at least I had a photo for posterity.
I moved through the crowd and past Christian’s booth for Paradise. He wasn’t inside but his staff had everything moving smoothly.
There were only two options: rum punch or a bottle of Blue Moon with an orange slice wedged into the top.
The number of people walking away with one in each hand…
