‘I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,’ I say, holding out my hand. Scratch that—I don’t say, I purr.Talk about overshooting,I think as I realise how that sounded. No wonder Rory looks confused.
It always comes back to that blow job again.
As Bea takes my hand, I get a small thrill at the innuendo in her cocked brow. And as her soft grey sweater falls from her shoulder, I have the sudden and insane urge to join the dots of her copper coloured freckles from collar to cuff.
With my tongue.
Double fuck.I pull back, managing to turn my response into something lessinteresting. ‘I’m glad you could make it, even if it is two hours late.’
The taunting brow now more resembles pinched as her eyes narrow.
‘Yeah, what time do you call this, young lady?’ says Rory in his bestdadtone. Not that we had a dad, but I assume this is his best approximation.
I hope his daddy game in the bedroom is better than the weak chastisement he just dished out.
I know mine is.
In that instant, Bea’s shoulders roll inwards to a very expressive collapse. The insane thought occurs to me that she’d look exquisite on her knees.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she says, turning to Fin. ‘I’m a really awful friend!’
She has an interesting accent; a sort of sensual drawl with unusually clipped vowels and sharp fricatives
‘Aye, the worst.’ Rory leans over, flicking a wisp of honey blonde hair. ‘All work and no play makes Bea a very dull girl.’ I’d be lying if I said her response didn’t make my dick twitch just a bit as she pokes out a wet, pink tongue.Thank God for table linens that hide two kinds of wood.‘I’m away to sort this out,’ he finishes, referring to his damp crotch.
‘For shame, Rory. This beautiful girl to take home, and you’re forced to beat one out in the restroom?’ she says, no longer contrite. ‘You can get pills to help with that.’
‘And you think I’m the dirty one,’ he murmurs, kissing the top of Fin’s head before striding off in the direction of the restroom.
‘Scratch the urologist appointment,’ Bea responds, pitching her voice louder. ‘It’s bound to be the result of some kind of sexual deviancy.’
Her words carry through the restaurant, causing nearby diners to turn around. True to form, Rory doesn’t react as he strides through the space like he owns it and all the space around.
She’s an interesting girl, this one.
‘Hard day at the office?’ Fin asks, facing her friend. ‘I see you made an effort to dress for dinner.’
‘Comeon!’ Bea slumps across the table theatrically. ‘If I’d taken more than five minutes to strip from my scrubs, you’d have left.’ She gestures to our almost empty plates. ‘Would you feel more inclined to sympathy if I told you I hadn't eaten all day?’ Her brown eyes stare mournfully at her friend. ‘I’mstarving!’ Her hand suddenly darts out, grabbing a roasted carrot from Fin’s plate.
‘Let me get you the menu,’ I murmur, noticing the waiter on his way with our drinks.
‘No, it’s fine,’ she protests, ‘you’ve all eaten. I’ll just get something on the way home.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You must eat.’ My response is gruffer than I’d intended, and if looks could burn, I’d be a little crisp at her results.
‘Why?’ she asks imperiously. ‘Why should I eat?’
‘Because you’re here for dinner. Because of social convention.’
‘Why do you care?’ What I wouldn’t give to correct her attitude.
‘Because of the joy in watching a beautiful woman eat.’
More correctly, I enjoy feeding them my cock. But I likely shouldn’t have said that—not in front of Fin and not in that tone. Because mixed messages are likely to give way to questions. The answers to which are too complicated to even begin.
‘K-Kit’s in hospitality,’ Fin stutters in apparent explanation.
‘Well, he’s not being very hospitable right now.’ She folds her arms over her chest, which is a shame because it’s pretty magnificent. ‘He’s being downright rude.’
