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She gives me quick raise of her eyebrows. “Want a bite?”
Jesus christ. I so fucking want a bite. “Gonna feed me?” Finally, Cool Trigger is back.
“Is there any other way?” She picks up a piece of shrimp with the chopsticks, contemplates it, then stretches across the table and points it towards my mouth.
My eyes dip to her cleavage and I beg the straining buttons to pop, then look up into her eyes, which are holding steady on my face. But she knows. Fuck.
She touches the shrimp against my lips and I have no choice but to snatch it up. I gulp it down fast. Normally I wouldn’t eat fucking fish if I was drowning in the shit, but for her, I might swallow a lobster, shell and all. I check her out again to make sure she’s worth sacrificing my standards, and her cleavage winks at me. Oh yeah, she fucking is.
“Not bad,” I lie. “Your turn.” I scoop up a forkful of the power shit and aim it at her perfect mouth.
She leans over and parts her lips. My semi turns into a raging hard on as she slowly pulls the food off the fork, her teeth makin’ me think of them tugging at my nipple rings. Then she chews, swallows, and slowly licks her lips as she touches the corner of her mouth.
She frowns as she regards the bowl. “Forgive me for generalizing, but you don’t strike me as a quinoa and chickpea kind of guy.”
“A what?” I look at the bowl in dismay. What the fuck have I been eatin’?
She grins when she sees my horrified face. “I pegged you as more of a beef guy.”
My mind blanks. “I am.” Feeble.
She scoops up another noodle, getting it into her mouth, but some sauce splashes on her chest and blouse.
“Dammit,” she swears as she looks down at herself in dismay.
She rubs the sauce off her chest with her long fingers and sucks on them. Fuck me.
“I have an important meeting.” She points to the vicinity of her chest as if my eyes haven’t been glued to it since she sat down. “And now I’ve stained my blouse.”
Before fully thinking it through, I whip my bandana out of my back pocket, wet it with my water and lean over the table, stroking at the fabric with one hand, the other gripping the side of her open collar for tension.
I work on the stain for about half-a-minute before I realize how badly I’m behaving. I gradually slow my strokes as I roll my eyes up towards her face. Her full lips hold a small smile as she stares at me with a satiny gaze.
I clear my throat as I return to my side of the table, instinctively giving her tits a pat as I go. “I think that’s got it.” My eyes search her chest for any more splashes she might need help with.
A flush creeps over her face as she stares down at her chest. Lucky fucking bitch getting to see that rack anytime she wants. “I’ve got a meeting with a banker this afternoon and I don’t want to look anything less than perfect.”
The fucking banker better be a woman. “You couldn’t possibly look less than perfect.” The frivolous words fall out of my mouth, but this time I mean them. I’m all charm and compliments because the girls like that shit, but this one, she doesn’t need validation. She already knows she’s perfect.
“Thank you,” she replies anyway. There’s no giggle or twirling of hair or anything like that.
I’m about to suggest we find ourselves a janitor’s closet and test how easy it would be to roll that tight skirt over her even tighter ass, but my words dry up and suddenly I’m a pimply 14-year-old idiot trying to talk the 17-year-old neighbour girl into giving me a blowjob. I clear my throat and cross my arms over my chest.
Our gazes lock, then the fucking moment is broken when a kid shrieks behind her. I look at the little shit, then beyond to the ol’ lady I’m supposed to be following only to find three teenage boys sittin’ at the table.
“Fuck,” I say. I look at her with regret. “Duty calls.”
I try not to knock the table over as I stand while at the same time conceal my fucking hard dick. She can’t miss it because her head is exactly waist high, and her face is planted a foot from it. Her eyes twinkle as she looks up.
“See you around, beautiful.” I grin, then take off.
I’ve lost the Blackbeard ol’ lady and when I get back to the food court, Evanee’s gone.
I don’t give a shit about Hangman’s wrath as I walk the mall lookin’ for my future bride. She’s in the wind, but it don’t matter. I’m gonna track that woman down and marry her.
CHAPTERTWO
Evanee
