Page 49 of When Sinners Hate
“That’s a good point.”
She’s quiet for a while. She chooses the view or the wine or anything other than me to invest herself in. I end up chuckling a little about her insecurity in all this. It’s not blatantly obvious, and I doubt the wider world would ever see it on her, but I can. She’s a mass of nerves under that pristine exterior. “Lexi?” She looks back at me. “Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
I drink some more wine and then pour us both another glass. “No, you’re not. You’re a ball of tension. You’re trying to work out what I’m up to, and what you need to do to keep me sweet, and why I’m doing any of this and if you can trust me. You can. Relax.” She sips and keeps staring at me. “I’m not trying to play with you. I want to see the you underneath the bullshit. So, show me.”
Thomas turns up while she’s digesting that information and plates of food get laid on the table. Crockery and cutlery clatter about, and she laughs about something as he curses the size of the table and she catches a knife that's dropped. It’s agood laugh. A nice laugh. A real fucking laugh. It’s also a laugh that makes me wonder how often she’s ever done it in her life.
“Okay then,” she says, as he leaves us alone. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“And you’ll give the same in return?”
I look at the food and put a napkin in my lap. “Yes. The bet’s still in play, too.”
“You thought that was just a game on your part.”
“Yes. Doesn’t mean I don’t want what you offered from it.”
“Okay. Why did you choose yourself for me?” I look back up. “You could have chosen Dante or Knox. Both of them seem like they’d be able to deal with me.”
I sigh. “No. That’s not what I meant.” She frowns, as if she doesn’t understand what I’ve just said. I don’t suppose she would. “I’m not interested in discussing where we’re at, or why we’re here, or what business we’re in. I want to know about you.” She still seems confused. I push my chair back a little. “Get around here.”
“Why?” I keep staring until she gets up and walks around the small table. “Sit.”
“On you?”
“Yes.” She swings her skirt out of the way and perches on my knees, so I drag her ass back until she’s tucked in tight to my chest and I can get my arm around her to some of the food. “Listen. We’re gonna get real comfortable with each other for a while, and you’re gonna learn what it’s like to be treated like a queen.” I pick up some fries and offer them up to her mouth. “Eat.”
“From your hand?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell is going on with you?”
“Eat. You could use a few more pounds.” She frowns and moves her head a little, opening her mouth to take the food, so I pull it away. “Or maybe not.” She stiffens instantly and whips her face back to me, indignant. Can’t stop the damn laugh that comes from me. “You never had any goddamned fun in your life?” She’s grabbed my hand before I stop laughing, biting the fries before shoving a taco back at my face in frustration.
I pull her in tighter as she laughs quietly and licks food off her fingers. “Well, now you're gonna have to clean this off me.” She reaches for a napkin. “I know you've got better ways of cleaning me than that.” So she gets the hint and leans in, using her lips and tongue tentatively to wipe the mess away. “See? We get along just fine when you relax and stop thinking. Start talking about who you are and what you like.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear and gazes at me, shifting her weight around on my dick. “You're gonna be sucking me off out here in a minute if you don't stop.” That seems to cause an unheard-before giggle. “I'm not joking.”
“I'm well aware of that.”
“Is that what you want?”
She reaches for another handful of food to push it at me again. “Not quite yet.”
“Might not give you any choice.”
“You know, I think today you will.”
And that’s how it goes for the next hour or so. We eat from each other, and she gets real comfortable on my lap and starts working out how this could be between us.
~
Late afternoon makes its way into early evening, and we end up at some bar on a back street because she doesn’t think I’ll like the shiny new ones on the front. She’s right. I don’t likeanything shiny and new other than my home. I like authenticity, and I like the broken-down atmosphere of something to remind me what its life has been about.