“When you’re ready, pull the trigger.” Her body stiffens, and I kiss her neck again. It’s turning into a small addiction. “Take your time. No rush.”
Bang.
She fires it before I can say anything else, and I kiss her neck again and keep my lips there as I smile. She might think this is over. That one shot was all I wanted. But she’s wrong.
“I told you to take your time.” I speak into her ear so she can feel my warm breath on the curve. I keep one hand steady, holding her hand up to prevent it from falling to her side as my other sweeps back along her other arm, gently caressing her over the sweater. I reach her shoulder and then spread my hand wide as I trail it down her side, touching the curve of her breast as I move to her hip.
I pull her tight to me, which isn’t much different from before, but this time it’s her coming to me and not me to her. My hand goes under the sweater and my fingers spread out wide on her stomach. My hands are large compared to hers. With a small movement north or south, I can touch the lace edge of her bra and then dip my pinkie just under her waistband if I choose to. I’m not touching anything intimate, but the threat is there. The promise.
“You’re going to do it again.”
Her whine makes me remember the other sounds I was able to get out of her throughout the night. I’m half tempted to push my fingers below her waistline to find out if she’s as wet as I am hard.
But I doubt it.
She’s holding the item that scares her. She was frozen in time and place when I first showed her the gun. And putting it in her hand? She almost dropped it four times, she was shaking so much.
I plan to be there for her. To be the force between her and any gun. But I’m also a realist. In my family, guns are being carried more than cash these days. She doesn’t need it to protect herself, but she needs to not flinch or freeze when she sees one.
She did it when the Kings pulled one on her. I thought it was the threat that had her going still, but after learning about her family, I now know it was the weapon itself.
Even with what happened with Carl, I have to wonder if her stiffness was because of what I had in my hand versus what I did to the man hurting her.
“Fear the person holding one of these, but not the weapon itself. Like everything else, it can be used for good or bad.”
“Not everything is bad,” she mumbles, and I smile at her small pushback.
“Says the woman who stands on her tippy toes for hours, making them bleed and claiming it’s art.”
“But it is.” She turns to me, but I push her back, gun still out and aimed.
“And it still causes you pain. So, is it the shoe that’s the issue or the person wearing them?”
“You aren’t cute when you’re right,” she says with a bit more attitude.
I lean in and kiss her neck once more. I don’t know when it started becoming my favorite spot to kiss. Maybe it’sjust because of the position we’re in now, but I can’t seem to stop.
“Yes, I am. Now focus. Take a deep breath and relax. I want you to accept the gun for what it is—nothing but a tool. You’re the one using it right now. You decide if you hit something, not the gun. You make the choice on how you want this to go.”
I rub my thumb just under her perky tits and feel her take a deep breath in. She’s steady, and I feel the tremors in her hands pause a second before she pulls the trigger.
“What a shot.” I take the gun away from her and smile.
The milk jug lies on its side, the contents leaking out onto the ground through the bullet hole.
“Seems like a waste.”
I shrug. “Spoiled anyway.”
“Are you any good?”
I look away from the jug to see her staring at me and gesturing to the gun. “With shooting?”
She nods.
Another shrug, but then my smile slips through.
She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “Of course you are. Silly question.”
