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“Look, if you guys are going to have the Dahlia-is-being-taken-advantage-of conversation,” Dahlia spoke up, “I’d like to point out I’m standingright here.”
“I should have asked,” said Tommy. “Sorry, I should have realized, and I should have specifically started off with, ‘What are you doing right now?’” He turned back to Jennifer. “And I don’t want to hear it from you, because she went out to your freaking house in the middle of that snow storm to bring you groceries—”
“She volunteered to do that,” protested Jennifer. “I didn’t ask her—”
“Oh, she just came up with the idea on her own?” said Tommy.
“You know how she is,” said Jennifer.
“I am standing here,” said Dahlia. “Right exactlyhere. I am listening to you both.”
They turned to her, thoughtful expressions on both their faces.
“You guys would do the same for me,” said Dahlia, sighing. Even though, deep down, she knew this was wrong, that other people would not do the same for her, but it didn’t matter. Helping people, it was the right thing. Being a good friend, it was the right thing.
Tommy slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, kissing her temple. “You’re amazing, you know that? None of us deserve you.”
She melted into his wiry body, the wild-satyr scent of him. She reached up to run a finger over of the nubby horns sprouting out of his dark curls. “Youdon’tdeserve me, it’s true.”
He nuzzled her, sighing. “What’d you buy?” He nodded to the bag.
“A skirt,” she said.
Jennifer groaned. “I bet you even money he was here with anothergirl, Dahlia.”
Tommy waggled his eyebrows at Jennifer. “Want to go back to our place and have a threesome?”
“He’s disgusting,” Jennifer pronounced. She turned her heel and started through the mall.
“I’m a satyr!” he called after her.
Dahlia shoved him. “If you two fight the whole way home…”
“You’ll what?” said Tommy, grinning at her.
She rolled her eyes and started after Jennifer.
He caught up to her. “Hey, would it be weird if we had sex with Jennifer?”
“Yes,” said Dahlia, glaring at him.
“Okay,” he said. “She’d never go for it anyway, right?”
BACK IN THEkitchen of The Daily Bread, in the too-warm cocoon of the place, surrounded by the mingled scents of baking bread and sex, Niles jerked in her, jamming himself in and out, losing his rhythm, losing the rhythm on her clit, too.
That was too bad. That had felt good, and now, it felt like nothing.
She tried to wriggle into his finger, tried to get the pleasure back.
He let out a grunting noise, and his movements were out of control.
Was he about to—?
“Shit.” He slammed into her and twitched out an orgasm.
He was done.
But of course he was. Ofcourse. Because that was what this was. It wasn’t about her pleasure, anyway. It was about this bargain they’d made. She got to leave. He watched the counter. And he got to fuck her in exchange for that. So, it wasn’t aboutherpleasure.
