Page 126 of Speak No Claim

She was adamant about giving me one of my gifts tonight, saying it had to be at midnight under the full moon. She wore one of my hoodies, saying some shit about not being able to wear her outfit in public. It was for me only, intriguing me even more than I already was.

Once we were outside our woods, near the carved tree, she asked, “What does that date mean?

“You don’t need the burden of that date.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t carry it alone.” She kissed me.

Since it was Christmas, I shared, “It’s the day your father and my mother were⁠—”

She kissed me again, silencing me. “Got it,” she breathed out before backing away. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Look at you, all polite. Where’s my girl?”

“Hey!” She giggled. “I’m actually a very polite girl.”

“You’re a pain in the ass is what you are.”

She laughed. “Ditto.”

I spanked her. “Hey!” she repeated.

“Good girls don’t get spanked.”

“Yeah… I feel like that gets me spanked more by you.”

I shrugged, gesturing to the way she decorated out there. “Been busy?”

There were fairy lights on the trees, a blanket near the firepit. A few random things were lying on it, a white cloth with a red candle.

“If you don’t behave, you’re not going to get my gift.”

I reached for her. “That’s supposed to stop me?” Unable to resist the temptation that was this woman, I gave in. “Show me.”

She crouched beside the pile of wood. “Help me.”

I did, squatting beside her. She looked at me as I grabbed a few logs and tossed them on top of the others.

“Not like that,” she corrected, moving the wood in a certain way.

I watched her as she stated, “Fire needs to breathe.”

I sat back, leaning against one of the logs I’d use to sit with my arm perched on my knee, waiting. Pulling off my hoodie, she threw it at my feet, leaving her in a white mini ruffled skirt that showed off her ass cheeks with a white top that barely covered her breasts, and her feet were bare.

My expression turned heated.

“You like?” She smiled, turning in a slow circle for me.

“I love.” Grinning, I added, “The lack of clothes is nice too.”

She chuckled, grabbing one of the matches from the box. She slid it against the striker strip in such a sinful way, I couldn’t look anywhere else if I wanted to. She had my complete and utter focus.

She made her way over to the kindling and lit the lighter fluid on top of the wood, causing it to erupt. Behind the flames, she seductively rocked her body as she played a song on her phone. I could tell it was one of her Afro-Peruvian songs. They were her favorite to dance to.

My girl was like nobody I’d ever seen. A man started singing, “Burn her and turn on her candle.”

It didn’t translate the best into English, but the beat was similar to the one I’d heard in other songs. The fire caught, illuminating the shape of her face as she stood. Grabbing the red candle off the blanket, she danced her way over to me.

The music was low and rhythmic, with her hips following the drum of the tune, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She wasn’t just moving her body. She was one with the drums. Her knees bent slightly with each beat, keeping all her heady movements low to the ground.