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I look away from the camera but can’t stop my lips from changing shape. I shouldn’t be able to smile after the phone call with Sergei. Then the cops asked me if I’d be willing to wear a wire and get more dirt on Sergei as I hand over the cash. Nerves or rage should cripple me, but knowing I can return to my woman somehow pushes it all down.
“She’s magic, Kenny,” I tell him, “but I’ve got to be careful. I almost told her I loved her.”
The words come out muted and dull on purpose. I’m stifling the passion and the thunder that would erupt in me if I unleashed the genuine emotions and let out all the certainty and the need.
“That you love her?” he says.
“That’s right. As I passed out from blood loss, it felt true, too.”
“So you still feel that way?”
“I think so.”
I’m understating it to Kenny. There’s no think about it. With everything I’m capable of feeling, every single impulse inside of me, I know I love her. She belongs to me.
“I can’t think about her with anybody else, and everything she does obsesses me. The tiniest moments. A small smile.” There are far more obsessions, but I won’t talk intimately about my woman and never will unless it’s to her.
“Careful, Luke,” Kenny says. “Those feelings don’t last forever.”
I know these will, but I think better of saying it.
“They fade, and then you’re left with the real questions. Are we compatible? Does she want children? Will we work long term?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.”
“You’ve talked about children?”
“Well, no, but I know she wants them.”
“How?”
He’s right. I haven’t got a clear answer to that.
“Well, that’s two yeses,” I snap. “We’ll work long term. We’re both programmers. She’s kind, beautiful, interesting, funny, confident, and shy, and we’re compatible. Goddamn, she’s the only woman who’s ever made me feel… anything.”
“Then my advice is don’t rush in. You don’t want to scare her away. There’s no guarantee she feels the same, not so quickly.”
“Yeah,” I say, sighing. “I know that.”
I lied. I never had a crush on you.
Her voice sounds much crueler in my mind than it ever could in real life. She didn’t invent the crush to hurt me. She has no idea how fierce this desire is. She did it to hide whatever happened to her, the event in her past that made her clam up before the date after I told her I was the one who found my dad’s body.
I watch her from the doorway, her headphones on, heavy metal music blasting as her fingers skip across the keys. She’s let her curly hair down, wearing a tank top and shorts, her ankles crossed on the desk, keyboard in her lap as she taps away.
My balls swell as I study her legs, seeming thicker now they’re pushed together.
Every time I look at her, there’s a battle inside me between the savage and the lover. The lover wants to discuss children and darkness in her past, but the savage feasts on her legs, shimmering when her typing gets fast and fierce. I approach her slowly from behind, then reach down, laying my hand against her leg. She flinches, gasps, and stares at me with her mouth open.
“Working on anything good?” I ask when she pushes her headphones off.
“An improvement on the trojan-horse detection software.”
“I’m sorry for interrupting.”
I glide my hand higher up her leg, experiencing the same lack of control I did the first night I claimed her—when I spanked her sweet ass and came so close to stuffing my enormous dick into her tight, virgin hole.
She grabs my wrists and shakes her head. “I’m on my…”
Her cheeks turn red, and she looks down as if she ever has to be ashamed.
“Period?” I say, smirking.
She laughs as if me saying it steals some of its power. “Yeah, exactly. I don’t think I can… you know.”
“What?” I snarl, kneeling and biting her leg, starting just above her knee, biting softly but hard enough to taste her sweat and feel her leg’s voluptuousness.
“You can’t come when you’re on your period?”
“But we can’t… you know…”
My balls ache. My tip is bulging. This is why I arranged the date somewhere in public so I could behave like a civilized person around her. That’s so much more difficult when we’re alone when nobody else can see her.
I can smell her warm, wet slit as I kiss and bite farther up her leg. She spins in the chair, opening her legs, breath shuddering as though she’s going to let me push aside her shorts and tongue her hole, period or no period, but then she reaches down and slides her fingers through my hair.
“Luke, you really don’t want to…”
“I need to. More than anything.”
“Okay, but it’s too icky for me. Please.”
When she says please, I look up, reading the anxiety narrowing her eyes and twisting her mouth.
