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Redix adjusts himself. “How did he fuck you?” It’s turning him on. Me too.
“From behind”—I bite my lip, confessing—“it’s the only way I’ll fuck. And it let me watch the other guy jerking off to me getting fucked so slow.”
“Did he fuck you too?”
Redix can never judge me. Nothing compares to his exploits. And yeah, I’ve had my own. Because I can live with a broken heart and a pussy that needs to get fucked exactly how I want.
“Yes. I told him to go next. And I told him the same thing. To fuck me so slowly, I begged him not to stop. My pussy couldn’t get enough dick that night.”
His tongue licks his bottom lip. All I put in his head swirls in his eyes. Lust. Jealousy. XXX payback. It’s all true, but so is the pain in the edge of his expression staring me down from across the table.
“With all the dick you can have looking like that, why can’t your pussy get enough?”
I can tease Redix. I can torment him. I can take him on. Because we’re equals. But I’ll never hurt him.
Even though I can.
“Because they’re not you. I always close my eyes and imagine you instead.”
“Goddamn, Cade.” His lids slide shut. “You’re killing me.”
“Your turn.”
“Alright then.” His eyes open, and I brace myself. “Something hot that I remember?”
“Yes.”
“It involved a banana.”
I gasp. I’m not prepared for that, and he’s delighted by my shock.
“And the second hottest thing I remember?” He won’t stop, and I’m dying. The taboo. The image. I’m not jealous; I’m curious. “One of those jumbo candy canes.”
“My god,”—I sigh a moan he can hear—“you have a food fetish.”
“You started me on eating lemon sherbet, Candy Cade, and I’ve been chasing your sweet taste ever since.”
Why we stay for dinner, I don’t know. But we do.
Every morsel on my plate has me ready to lie on this table and be his buffet.
“You owe me one more,” he says. “I gave you two stories; you’re next.”
“It involves strip Uno.”
His eyebrows pinch. That really hurts him.
“With who?”
“You.”
“We never did that.”
“Not yet.”
He smiles with sin in his eyes.
When the server asks about dessert, Redix answers, “No, thank you. She’ll be serving me hot cherry pie at home.”
