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But I’ve already exited the SUV and closed the door before he can even clean up his messy dick. Climbing behind the wheel of my car, I pull out of the parking lot.
There. Feels so much better now that I’m back in control of our little game.
Chapter
Nine
Kat
Sleeping late into the day, I take a nice long shower before heading downstairs to forage for sustenance. Opening the fridge reminds me I’m past due for a supermarket run. Like two weeks past due. I toss the carton of expired milk and a questionable takeout container—when the hell did I have Chinese?—closing the fridge door with a frustrated sigh.
The doorbell rings, and I walk to the door and glance out the peephole. Opening the door, I retrieve the bag and look around, but no sign of the number one suspect.
Smiling, I close the door and place the bag on the coffee table, finding a note on top.
Be my taste tester and give me your opinion of the new dishes for my restaurant.
Not your friend,
Fabio
I snort a laugh at his sign-off. Grabbing a fork, I open the first container and take a bite of mouthwatering pasta. “Damn, that’s good.” Sampling a bite from each of the containers, the velvety pasta is my favorite, but they’re all delicious.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it, reading the message from Taylor.
You wanna grab a bite before shift?
Sorry, I’m eating as we speak. And I’m not working tonight.
Why? I thought you were scheduled with me this evening.
Dunno. The schedule got changed.
Not exactly true, but Taylor doesn’t need to know about my deal with a mob boss.
That sucks.
“Sucks,” I agree, twirling another pillowy bite of pasta around my fork and bringing it to my mouth.
My phone buzzes again, and I check the message, expecting another from Taylor; but it’s from an unknown sender.
Meet me in the back parking lot of my restaurant tonight. I need you to dress up.
How did you get my number?
I told you, Katerina, I’ve got your number.
Uh-huh. Well, thanks for the food. It’s all delicious, but the pasta is my favorite.
I pause my fingers over the keyboard, my heart beating noticeably faster. “Fuck it.” I type what I’m really thinking. I hold my breath as I hit send.
If we’re not friends, then what are we?
Dots appear as Fabio types his reply.
I can only speak for myself, but what I am is a man starving to have your delicious pussy plastered over my face. Molded to my fingers. Wrapped around my dick. Dealer’s choice on the sequence of those events.
I squirm in my seat. When did it get so hot in here?
