Page 55 of Tears Like Acid
He drops his arm and walks out onto the veranda. “Take care of yourself.”
She shuts the door and locks it, pausing for a second on the spot before turning her face toward the stairs. Our gazes lock. Apprehension sparks in her brown eyes. Instead of walking to me, she cuts across the lounge and enters the kitchen.
She can run until she doesn’t have a single breath left in her lungs, but she can never hide from me.
Taking my coat off in the walk, I descend the stairs and drape it over the rail. When I enter the kitchen, she’s filling the kettle with water.
“Tea?” she asks with a strained smile from over her shoulder. “I’m afraid I didn’t have time to start dinner yet.”
“Dinner?” I chuckle, advancing on her. “Is that why you think I’m here?”
Her back goes rigid. She puts the kettle aside. When she turns, she finds herself trapped between the sink and my body. Leaning back to put distance between us, she asks, “Why are you here?”
“To fuck you, Sabella.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “Nothing happened. You must know that Fabien is gay. Why are you so angry?”
Nothing happened.
That was what she told me yesterday too.
Pretty little liar.
When I lean in, she plants her palms on the counter behind her and catches her weight on her arms. I’m bending her backward, invading her space and breathing her air.
My tone is taunting. “Who says I’m angry?”
I give her a little leeway, just enough not to have to crane her neck. She watches me warily as I remove the silver box and Zippo lighter from my pocket. I take out a joint and tap the tip on the flat side of the box to compact the weed.
“You’re smoking again?” she asks.
I bring the joint to my lips. “Do you care?”
My question is layered. She must get the nuance, because she doesn’t reply.
She turns her face away from the flame when I light the joint.
I take a drag, filling my lungs with the smoke. The head rush is immediate. Lethargy settles over my senses, but it doesn’t dull the anger.
Blowing out a circle of smoke, I watch it fade like a halo over her head. My voice is deceptively soft. “Do you care, Sabella?”
She turns her face the other way, trying to avoid the smoke. “You know I don’t like it.”
“How about this?” I ask, cupping her sex. “How much do you like this?”
She goes on tiptoes, pushing with her palms on my chest. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I don’t know,” I taunt. “Perhaps you?” I’m being too honest. It’s the weed. It’s always loosened my tongue. But I can’t stop. “Maybe I’m getting addicted to your pussy. It’s a lot like smoking. Once you start, it’s difficult to stop. Maybe I should break the habit and fuck your ass tonight.” I rub my thumb in a circle over her clit through the thin layers of her clothes. “Will you like that?”
She clenches her jaw.
I pull my hand from between her legs and place my palms on either side of her body on the counter. A ribbon of smoke coils from the joint I’m clutching between my fingers, tainting the air with the smell of weed.
“Have you ever smoked, Sabella?”
She glances at me briefly before looking away again. “You know I haven’t.”
I bring the joint to my lips, take another drag, and blow out a thin line of smoke. “Perhaps you should. It’ll relax you, help you to spread for me and take my cock.”