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“Sure. Not just chickens. Pigs sometimes escape during transport or if a fence is compromised. Cows. Goats. Or sometimes the animal isn’t usable for meat and the slaughterhouse is decent enough to hand the animal over to an animal sanctuary instead of just throwing it into the meat grind— You get the point.”
“I think I do.”
“I have two friends who work in a sanctuary. Maybe you could meet them?” she asks almost nervously, as if unsure if I’d want to. She shakes her head. “You know what, scratch that. Ignore me. I think my brain is still in my crotch today.”
“I’d like to meet them,” I respond, aware of how incongruent that urge is with the way I usually conduct therelationshipsI attempt, if you can even call them that.
“You would?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if we survive thetest month, maybe you can,” she responds. It’s a naughty answer, but one tinged with something darker.
As she turns back around to look outside, an internal tremor rattles my body as my arms stiffen and I fight the urge to wrap them around her slight body and look out of the window with her, realizing that I barely ever do it.
“I’ll show you the grounds later,” I say instead.
“Okay.”
She follows me over to the countertop and I pull a large wooden box full of different varieties of black tea. She takes a small box markedVanillaout, staring at the loose charcoal leaves.
“It strikes me that this might be the onlyvanillathing that happens in this house,” she says, hiding a naughty smile.
“Careful, Indie,” I warn to her mischievous grin.
She unscrews the lid, bringing the box to her nose, closing her eyes and inhaling the sweet aroma deeply.
“Oh my God, it smells so good,” she sighs in front of me.
I slide my hand down her chest and under the fabric of the throw she has wrapped around her, pulling it down to expose her breast. I twist my torso and lower my head to envelope my lips around her teat, flick it with my tongue and suck for a few moments as she sighs in pleasure.
Standing back up, I breathe into her ear. “You need to stop making those cute little noises. You have no idea how badly I want to bend you over this countertop and fuck you right now.”
She moans, pivoting a little. “What’s stopping you?”
My hand slides up that beautiful imp-like face of hers and I hold her jaw firmly. “Several things. Including the fact that you deserve to be tortured a little first. I want you begging later.”
Her lips part on a clear exhale as warm pink spreads across her cheeks. “Sadly, I’m not sure I’m the begging type.”
“Oh, you will be withme, wildflower.”
43
Indigo
As we leave the house via the back door of the mudroom behind the kitchen and close it, Grey’s fingers send a bolt of lightning into me as they interlace with mine while we take a step down and make it onto the stone patio.
I stop in my tracks, pulling against his grip, my head still spinning from this morning’s conversation which didn’t leave me much clearer as to what the hell we’re even doing here. He pivots to look at me. “What the hell is this?” I ask, lifting our hands a little.
“What?” His cantankerous tone is entirely unimpressed with my question.
“Why are you holding my hand?”
He takes a step towards me. “Because I want to. There are no safe words for hand-holding unless I've done something egregious just before it, so you’ll tolerate me holding your hand whenever the fuck I want. AndIwon’t tolerate any resistance to it.”
“Fine,” I snipe. “Just checking. It does seem very relationship-y of you.”
He turns, pulling me along, his grip tightening. “This is going to be another of those days where you test my patience, isn’t it?” he growls.
