I go over to him and sit in his lap. Arms still bound behind me, I have to tighten my core to sit straight up. He reaches around me, cuts off a piece of the frittata with his fork, and feeds it to me. Olive and feta burst in my mouth.
“Good?” he asks.
“Delicious.”
He takes a bite for himself. “Damn. That is good.” Another bite for Phantom. I wait my turn. I love watching him enjoy the food I made for him.
“Where’s your roommate?” he asks.
“She’s at Dorian’s.”
“And how’s that going?”
He divvies up bites, feeding the both of us as we engage in easy, early-morning talk. I could do this every morning.
“They’re in love. It’s sickening. He’s over here like…all the time.”
“Sounds like a crowded house.”
“It is and it isn’t. He’s…basically a cat. He just sits in the corner and reads. I hardly know he’s there half the time.” I press my lips together and confess the things I won’t say out loud to Dove. “But…there are sometimes I miss just having Dove to myself, you know?”
“Sacred girl time.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m sure she’d understand if you told her.”
“I’m sure she would, too. But I’m so happy seeing her happy…I’ve gotta let her float on her cupcake love cloud for a moment.”
I wiggle myself into his lap. I can feel him starting to get hard underneath me.
“Ophelia. Stop moving.” It’s both a command and a plea.
“I’m trying. It’s just sohardto get comfortable.”
“And it’s going to get harder if you keep moving around. Settle. Eat.”
We talk a little, eat a little, and I pretend like I don’t understand the effect I have on him when I shift my hips this way and that. Finally, when we’ve left nothing but crumbs, Phantom puts his hand on my hip to gently guide me off of him.
“I can clean?—”
“Stay,” he says, a sharp command that my body has no problem obeying. “I’ve got this.”
I sit back down.
“May I have my hands back?” I remember my manners. “For my coffee. Please, Sir.”
“Yes.” He undoes the bind, freeing my wrists. Then he makes swift work of wrapping the black little ribbon around a single wrist, tying it into a knot.
Claimed, but not contained. I love it.
I get to enjoy my coffee while Phantom picks up the plate, takes it to the sink, and starts washing the dishes.
The table vibrates, and I see he’s left his phone on the table. “You got a text,” I tell him.
“Can you check it? Code is 1158.”
That feels insane to hear.
