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I glance down, seeing more food than I could eat in a month. Hopefully they’ll have to-go boxes. I’m not one to waste. Sav passes me a basket of bread, offering instead of delivering.
“Thank you.” I take one, the soft bread warm between my fingers.
I take a bite and hold in a moan. Taking small bites, I try everything. Pesto veggie pasta, a hearty meaty lasagna, and my favorite, penne in a creamy vodka sauce.
There’s candlelight and soft music, the food too good and everyone too hungry from our walking tour to fill the room with chatter. It’s nice, homey, and cozy, kind of like being with my brothers and our friends when they would stay over for dinner and Mary would make mounds of pasta to feed them all.
But Mary doesn’t make pasta anymore.
I try not to think about her. About the fantasies I let myself have from time to time. Like when I was wandering around my party searching for cupcakes.
My online therapist says it’s okay, that I’m doing well, and I can pretend to have conversations and moments with loved ones who have passed, as long as I limit my “moments,” and that I’m clear with myself that it’s a momentary escape from reality.
Not wanting to succumb to the sadness, I focus on my meal. It really is scrumptious. Sav holds out the basket for a second offering. “When in Portland.”
“It’s been a pretty magical day.” I take another one. Still warm. “Thank you for setting all this up.”
“Eh.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Lindy did all the work.”
“Still. Thank you.” I glance around the makeshift banquet table. There’s a lot of us. And just as many outside. I tear the breadstick in two. “Where are we staying tonight?”
He looks down at his plate, separating a hunk of beef from a noodle then devouring it. He chews. Slowly. So slowly, I think I need to re-ask the question, but finally he says, “Somewhere close.”
“Will we all be able to stay together? Or did you have to rent rooms in a couple different places?” I spot a mushroom I’d missed earlier. Spearing it with the prongs of my fork, I pop it in my mouth.
“It’s better if you wait and see. Security-wise.”
I glance around the table at the men’s faces. The staff have all been ordered to stay in the kitchen unless called for. Who is there to tell?
I take a sip of soda. “What? I might slip up and tell one of the locals? Trolls hiding under the table?”
He scoots his seat back, lifting the edge of the tablecloth and scanning under the table. Releasing the tablecloth, he focuses his attention back on his plate. “You can never be too careful.”
Okay. That was adorable. I hide a smile, finishing off my soda.
The empty cup is quickly replaced with a tiny white mug of espresso and a slice of triple chocolate cake, a slight waitress disappearing into the back. Seeing the thick, fudgy frosting, my mouth waters, and my heart calls for Mary, as I dive into the decadent dessert.
Sav passes on his, politely declining to his waiter. I lean over him. “Excuse me? Can I please have his in a to-go box? Thanks so much!”
The sugarless grump eyes me. “Seriously? How much sugar can you tolerate? The piece you’re already eating is as big as my hand.”
I glance down at that paddle of a hand. “No. It’s so not.”
Holding his hand flat, fingers together, he thumps it on the tabletop in a very intentional way. “Is that so?”
I don’t know if the purpose of his action was for me to get all wet, for my thighs to press together and my pussy to ache for a cock to finally be inside of it for the first time ever, but that’s exactly what watching that handsome hand spank the table does to me.
Seeing the look on his face confirms that making me think of him in that way was clearly his intention. The sultry message is written all over his handsome face.
Handsome to the general public, but not to me, right?
Because, as I’ve told my virgin kitten, he’s so not our type.
Bad boy, tatted, at one point in his life incarcerated, literally nicknamed Savage. I can kinda handle that stuff even though I’m a sheltered bookworm homebody.
Well, sheltered homebody up until this past year with my sneaking to the Pit.
The fighting both was and wasn’t out of character for me. As the youngest of three, a girl with two older brothers, I’ve always been active and feisty, wanting to compete with people older and bigger than me, but typically I’ve kept it to the safety of sports in my driveway with my brothers and their friends. The sneaking out was not really me.
