Page 38 of Haunt the Mall
Moaning, he emptied himself, turning to brush his nose against mine.
It was almost sweet. Definitely sexy.
I caressed his hot, thick member through the napkin. It twitched against my hand. 'I’ve got you,' I wanted to say. To him, not just his dick. But that could’ve been ominous, so I cleaned him up instead.
With a final swipe, I gave him a peck. “All finished.”
His eyelashes fluttered like I'd just awoken sleeping beauty with my kiss. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” I licked my lips, fighting the rising urge to brush his sweaty bangs from his forehead. Somehow, that felt too intimate. My stomach twisted into knots. “Now, we can eat.”
“Yes, eat.” He blinked, his eyes wet with sleepy satisfaction.
How was he so pretty after orgasming?
His little smile killed me.
Shit, he knew I was looking. Staring at a guy on a first date wasn’t sexy.
I dumped the cum-covered napkin onto the empty pretzel container lid and reached for our next course. “What do we have here?”
I pried open the lid, steam warming my face and fingers.
“A beef bowl.” I smiled. Any meal was good if it had decent rice and veggies.
He stretched his spine. “Yeah, the other one’s a Caesar salad. I wasn’t sure what you liked.”
“Oh, right,” I said. He didn’t know me like that. “Both of those sound good. Do you have a preference?”
He shrugged. “Not really.”
Salad, even with a bunch of stuff in it, wasn’t always filling. To make it fair, we split the two meals, funneling some of the food onto the other portion’s lid. I busied myself eating and watching the movie.
How did we go so far without knowing basic things like what we liked to eat and drink?
Well, on some level, I knew his kinks because he bit me. I smiled and spread out in my seat. Maybe he was weird like me.
After eating his portion, Victor set his food aside and settled back into his chair. He rested his hand on my thigh, idly playing with the crisscross pattern on the front of my tights. My bare skin simmered underneath. Could he smell the arousal radiating off me?
If he wasn’t careful, he’d have to replace this chair. I crossed my legs and prayed my tights would contain my brewing needs. Not for sex, exactly. I looped my arm through his and leaned in, seeking heat.
His gaze flicked from the screen to me. He plucked my tights’ strings. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” My insides fluttered. Maybe I was still hungry.
19
Creature of the Night
The movie was a masterpiece. Its second half surged into advanced puppetry and prosthetics for the horrible creatures on-screen.
“I miss them making things,” I murmured, rubbing my chin on Victor’s sleeve. “Like creatures, you know what I mean?”
“I do. That’s why I love The Widow.” He scratched my leg and rested his cheek on the top of my head.
The monster inside of me wriggled, purring and giddy.
He loved the spider. Not me. I mean, we were in first date territory. But in my orgasm-rattled mind, it was linked.