AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My sister, for all her crazy, for all her over-the-topness, for all her devotion to a more alternative lifestyle, was also one of the wisest people I knew. Sure, she sometimes went about imparting her wisdom in odd ways, at times referencing godawful, cheesy, campy horror movies with a negative Rotten Tomato rating. But she was almost always right.
"So what am I supposed to do? Show up and say, 'Hey, your sisters-in-law ambushed me and begged me to get you to come to Thanksgiving, so your mother doesn't cry for the umpteenth holiday in a row?' I mean... that is going to go over like a bomb."
"You come home a little early from work. Get your scrub and shave on. Do your hair and makeup. Slip into something sexy. Then you go to dinner with him. And then come home. Where you fuck his brains out. Then you bring it up. You gotta have this conversation when his guards are down. And the only time men let their guards down completely is when they are freshly fucked."
"You're not wrong," I agreed, though I didn't like the idea of sexual manipulation.
And, because she was who she was, she knew this. "You're not tricking him, Autumn. You're just getting him relaxed and a bit less likely to fly off the handle. Oh, but maybe stick a paddle in your bag in case he does fly off the handle. Okay, I have a girl to get back to who is getting plowed like nobody's business and completely unaware that her throat is going to get slit as soon as the guy comes in her. Bye!"
I snorted as I hung up the phone, realizing it was really the only card I had to play.
I didn't want to bring that kind of thing up at a restaurant. Especially if there was any chance that he might rage out again. I didn't want him in that awkward of a situation. I didn't want him to storm out, leaving me to have to deal with the bill, then finding my own way home from God-knew-where. And where did that leave him? Losing his mind in a rage with no outlet?
No.
That couldn't happen.
And the same logic went for before the date. He would likely storm off and go who-knew-where.
Peyton was right; the best time to tell him was when he was freshly fucked, completely naked, and unable to jump up and storm out before I could try to stop him.
So I did what she said.
I closed early.
I went home and spent well over an hour on getting myself together. I slipped into a black dress that was just shy of slutty and a pair of spiked heels. My back, and the cut of the dress, didn't allow for a bra, but I picked out a special pair of panties that was black lace over my butt cheeks, but cut off at the highest point where it met a silky bow that attached to a thick satin waistband.
They were exactly made for sexual manipulation.
So I guess I was dressing for the task.
Eli had texted me an hour before I closed up, saying he would bring Coop back to my place and we could leave from there.
So I was nervously shifting my feet when there was a knock - and a scratch - at the door.
Peyton jumped up, mermaid hair all in a loose, messy bun on her head, legs in leggings covered in blood splatter and crime scene tape and a black tank top. Effortless, quirky, and still ridiculously pretty.
Some day a man would see that about her too.
"What are your intentions with my daughter?" she asked in a dead-on imitation of our father, arm stretched out to block his entrance as Coop barreled in to take her seat on the couch, resting his head on her book.
"I plan to ravish her completely," Eli said, tone deadly serious.
"Son!" Peyton declared, throwing open the door, and her arms like she was about to embrace him. She dropped her hands at the last second, moving out of the way. "She's over there looking like sex on a stick," she informed him as she walked away. "I think the 'lick' comment doesn't need to be uttered. Get your head off my book," she told Coop as she took it from under him. "Looking all innocent when we all know you're just waiting for me to glance away so you can eat it, you butthead."
"Sweetheart," Eli said, close, too close, making me realize I had been focusing on Peyton, and hadn't seen him cross the room toward me.
He looked good, too.
The Mallick men, well, they apparently cleaned up nice.
He had on black slacks and a matte black dress shirt, no tie, nice shoes, an expensive silver watch, and a matching belt buckle.
Hot.
Was there anything hotter than a man who knew how to dress?
