Scandalous Heroes Box Set

by Latrivia Nelson

  “So not only do I have to hear about astrology some more, I have to hear about numerology, too?” She laughed. “I don’t think I’m going to survive this date with you, Julian.”

  “You’ll endure it, and I think you’ll actually like it…maybe even love it.” He winked. “Now, let’s make arrangements.” He rubbed his hands together again, this time as if he were about to plop down and feast on something extravagant and mouth watering. “You can either meet me here at the shop, or I can pick you up. I’m free Wednesday night, at least I am now.” He grinned.

  “Hmmm, okay. I can do Wednesday. You already have my number…”

  “I do.” He removed his cellphone from his pocket. “But give it to me again and I will put it in my phone.”

  They exchanged numbers and set a time.

  “Well, I guess that’ll be all. See you on Wednesday,” she said, getting a whiff of his cologne as he drew closer, stood beside her for a brief moment, then breezed by like a ghost. Gripping the chrome locks, he removed the chains from her voluntary imprisonment, allowing her to be released into the night.

  “You’ll hear from me before then.” Straightening, he stood close to her, so close, she could smell his warm, cinnamon-scented breath.

  I sure hope so.

  She grinned and stepped over the threshold, only for the man to pull her arm, bringing her abruptly back to him, making her yo-yo and stumble clumsily against his chest.

  Shit, he smells so good…

  “Can I have a kiss before you go?”

  “…We haven’t even had a first date, and I—”

  Stifling her protests, he pressed his lips firmly into hers, and moaned as he gripped her tightly to his stiffened body. Upon contact, her body responded instantly and her libido flew through every active cell inside of her physique. Her damn groin was at it again, too — flipping, tossing, making waves. The kiss was full of pressure, tight, sensual, and dare she say it — devoted, as if the man were making love to her with his mouth, and his tongue hadn’t even dared to leave its hot, wet confines. He hooked one of his hands behind her neck, forcing her into him even more so, not leaving room for the air, the night nor a thought to form and process. It felt like some sort of tantric oral reflexology, which made her melt into him even further, lifeless as she was.

  He finally released her.

  “Alright, now you’re free to go.” He closed the door in her face, locked it and disappeared like a cocky phantom.

  She stood there for a moment, staring at the damn closed door with the ‘Closed’ sign swinging against it from his abrupt departure. She didn’t know rather to laugh or scream as she touched her mouth, his kiss still searing her lips as she gently ran her fingertips along them.

  Damn…

  She savored the faint taste of cinnamon as she slicked her tongue along her bottom lip, taking Julian in, tasting him, absorbing him whole…

  Mmmm… what a kisser…

  ~***~

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was five minutes after six, and the street corner restaurant had a rustic charm as it ushered in the thickening dinner crowd. The dusky brick building looked as if it had once been something else, something long forgotten. An oval, weatherworn sign, or possibly recently distressed emblem, hung from a rusted, iron rod high above, wedged between two darkened, dusty windows that hadn’t seen a bottle of Windex in a mighty long time. The sign read, ‘The Grit.’ Milan took a deep breath and waited as Julian opened the door to the establishment, allowing her to enter. She was immediately taken aback by the pungent, delicious aromas swirling abound, infused with paprika and peppercorn. The small tables were full of white people smiling and laughing, their forks busy and their mouths just as hardworking as they labored over their food and delighted each other with conversation.

  Vegans and vegetarians…Oh joy…

  Julian moved closer to her, delicately placing his arm around her waist as he bent forward to speak to the hostess in a hushed tone.

  “Table for two, please.”

  The woman nodded and negotiated the crowd and oddly placed tables, while Milan and her tattooed friend trailed close behind. He’d asked her where she’d like to go, and she made the mistake of saying ‘Surprise me.’ Nevertheless, she tried to stay optimistic, though it was a definite challenge. Soon they were seated, and menus placed before them.

  “Now.” He opened his tariff, his eyes quickly scanning it as if he knew exactly what was there, but was simply doing his checks and balances. “I am assuming you aren’t vegetarian or vegan. Am I right?”

  ‘Sail’ by Awolnation played low in the background…

  “I eat meat.” She crossed her legs and wrinkled her nose at the word, ‘tofu’ in one of the menu descriptions. Tofu was synonymous with Styrofoam, but that simply wasn’t fair. Styrofoam probably had more flavor.

  “Uhhh huh.” That notorious smirk of his sneaked onto his face as he chewed his jaw, making it seem as if a toothpick should have been bobbing out the side of it. “I bet you will like this, Milan. The food here is really good.”

  “I’ll try. I’m open to new things.”

  Just as she finished her statement, he looked up at her, and something she couldn’t quite make out had made his smile fade. He kept a pleasant countenance, though, as he hooked his gaze with hers.

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “When was the last time you had meat? Oh…thank you,” she said as someone came up and handed them two waters, and him an iced tea as well. He smoothed his napkin out with both hands, as if it were important to him that it stay tidy for his glass to be set upon it.

  What a strange man.

  “Over ten years ago. It was a burger.”

  “You say it like you remember it fondly. Did you give that burger a name?” She teased as she crossed her ankles, settling a bit more into her seat.

  He grinned a tad wider. “I didn’t know it would be my last burger. I bought it, went home, ate it and then stayed up all night to party with friends. I saw a documentary the following day about meat production. I’d already been contemplating to stop eating it, but that pretty much sealed the deal for me. I don’t like the ill treatment of the animals in the slaughterhouses; it’s unsanitary, and I don’t find it necessary to eat it. Not trying to tell others what to do though. Just for me, I’m not interested anymore. I feel a hell of a lot better, too.”

  “Hmmmm.” She took another sip of her water through the black straw, leaving her red lipstick laden kiss upon the tip. “So, you’re cool dating a person that eats meat?”

  He shrugged and looked back down at his menu. “Honestly, I’d prefer that my future girlfriend, whomever it may be, not eat it. The reason being is, I don’t want to be in a position to try and force anyone to do something for me, against their will, just to please me. I’d want them to do it because they want to. These things should happen naturally, through observation and education, you know?”

  Milan nodded.

  “I don’t want her to feel pressured, I want it to be sincere. If I fall in love with someone that eats meat, I just do, but it would be easier for me if they didn’t, is all. Plus, sex is better with vegetarians. One day I’d like to prove that to you.”

  Milan sprayed water out of her mouth until it landed on his menu. As if nothing much had happened, he stifled a broad smile and gently dabbed at his menu with the napkin he’d just ironed out with his hands.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! You just…surprised me. Why do you say things like that?!”

  “Things like what?” He looked up at her, as if truly clueless.

  “You know what.”

  “Well, it’s true.” He showed that sexy smile again, the one she loved to hate, then turned away, looking around the restaurant. “Is that not what men and women want?” He focused back on her.

  “I would hope it would be more than that.” She stuck her lips out, certain she looked like a duck as she reprimanded him.

  “Of course it’s more than that
, but sex is a goal, right?” he argued. “Look, if I’m involved with someone, I expect that it will eventually happen. Do you not?” He appeared confused, as if she’d grown a horn in the middle of her damn forehead.

  “I think when two people know that it’s the right time, they move forward. No need to plan out every little aspect of it. Otherwise, it is just premeditated nonsense and it gets people into a lot of trouble,” She said.

  “Trouble, what kind of trouble?”

  “Like not being on the same page. The woman may think she is in a relationship, and the man just sees her as a friend with benefits. That’s why giving things time, and for that chemistry to be there, is important. People don’t talk enough before sex happens to know where they stand, but some things just come about. There isn’t a discussion, you just kind of know.”

  “I totally agree with that…and I know exactly what I want, so do you want to discuss us making love now or after dinner?”

  “What?!”

  “I’m only kidding!” He burst out in laughter. “Look, here comes the waitress. Are you ready to order?”

  “Uh.” Milan looked down at her menu as if just noticing it. “I have no idea what half of this stuff is…”

  “You want me to order for you?”

  Milan shrugged and slammed her menu closed as if it were to blame for the lousy selections written inside of it.

  “That’s fine I suppose.”

  He flashed a smile in her direction then turned towards the waitress.

  “Hey, how are you doin’? Let me get the Mid-E Platter for my friend here, the falafel platter for myself, a cup of your black bean chili and—”

  “Large or small?”

  He hesitated, shot Milan a look, then answered, “Large…I want to share it.”

  The waitress nodded. “I’ll bring out an additional soup spoon. Did you wish for anything else?” She reached for their menus.

  “Milan, do you prefer root beer or coke?” he asked, throwing her for a loop. She hadn’t planned to order a soft drink.

  “Um, coke.”

  “Okay,” He looked back at the waitress, his elbow on the table, gesturing as he spoke. “At the end, when it’s over, bring me a root beer float, and my friend a coke float.”

  “Got it!” The waitress disappeared, leaving them alone. They remained quiet for a little while, though she didn’t miss the man staring at her, damn near drilling holes into her clothing with his intense eyes. He ran his hand across his chin and leaned back in his seat, real comfortable like, as if he were chilling on his own couch.

  “So how’s that tattoo healing? You didn’t mention it when I picked you up.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. A little tender, but I looked at it and it looks normal. I know you said I could stop, but because of the tenderness and slight redness, I applied the ointment again this afternoon and re-covered it.”

  “Good. Soon that should be unnecessary.”

  He nodded and tapped the table, his fingertips slightly dragging across it.

  “So what is in this medieval platter you ordered for me?”

  He burst out laughing and rolled his eyes. “It’s called the Mid-E Platter, and it will allow you to sample a few different things, you know, get a better idea of what you like and don’t like. It’s really good. It has…” — he began to count off his fingers — “pita, hummus, some nice uncooked veggies, you know, whatever’s in season, falafel and tabbouleh.”

  “What’s tabbouleh?”

  “It’s buckwheat, tomatoes, olive oil, parsley, lemon juice and a little seasoning to taste. It’s really nice, and the one they serve here has lemon sauce drizzled over it. It’s a salad, basically...really tasty.”

  She nodded, trying her damnedest to not show her displeasure. It didn’t help that her stomach was rumbling.

  “You are either perplexed or putting on some act,” she blurted as she took another sip of her water, her hunger pangs making her slightly aggressive.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Last weekend when you were doing my tattoo, you were initially the perfect gentleman. You turned on music you knew I’d like, put a flower in my hair, all of that. And then, during the course of the conversation, you started to poke me like a bear, rearing for a fight. But then, when I left, you forced me into a kiss and—”

  “Forced?” he repeated, a slick smirk on his face as he beat his short nails against the table.

  Damn smirk.

  “Yes, forced.” She grinned, barely able to get out the statement, knowing it sounded skewed. “…And then we get in here, and you are talking about sex is expected. I honestly have nothing against the conversation within itself, but that choirboy act you tried to pull initially sure went away quickly. I’m not buyin’ it.” She theatrically rolled her eyes.

  “Choir boy?”

  “Yes, are you going to repeat everything I say back like some recorder?” She shook her head. “You heard me right the first time.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong.”

  “Do I now?” She crossed her arms, waiting to hear this silvery-tongued bullshit he was sure to deliver. It was time he had a mirror up to himself, Mr. High and Mighty Vegetarian Man…acting so holier than though. Besides, she was in the mood for entertainment; it would make the bland meal she’d be urged to try go down a bit easier.

  “That was no act. I didn’t know you. My mind was racing faster than my mouth, and then I caught myself. That could’ve made you uncomfortable, you know? I had no idea. What I did know is that I picked up we had a mutual attraction for one another, so I relaxed a bit, and went on and told you. Now, as far as the kiss, I didn’t make you do anything…”

  “Oh boy…” She burst out laughing and turned away, giving him a glance that said, “This mothafucka right here!”

  “I asked you for something that you wanted to give me. So, I took what was mine, and sent you on your way.” He bit into his bottom lip as if suppressing his mirth, no doubt enjoying how she squirmed about in her seat. “Now, isn’t that true?”

  She shot him a withering look, as if he were a demon sitting before her, trying to seduce her with promises of fame and glory in exchange for her soul. Still, she couldn’t lie. She tried to paint him into a corner, out of sheer boredom, and the slick fucker came out victorious, once again, seamlessly skated his way through without missing a beat.

  “Maybe.”

  He burst out laughing and slapped the table.

  “You just can’t give in, not even a little bit, can you?! Everything has to be a struggle, hmmm? I think you are all an act, Milan. All this shit right here,” he swirled his fingers around a few inches above the table as if circling an imaginary map, “is Milan-flavored bullshit. It is what you do.”

  “Oh really now?” She laughed hoarsely. “So you know all about this right here?” She pointed at herself, put on an innocent expression.

  “Yeah, I know your type. I am what I am. It is your choice to take it or leave it. I’m not going to perform for you or anyone else. That’s not me, baby girl.” He grunted.

  “Baby girl?!”

  “Now who’s the recorder? I actually know more about you than you realize.” He stabbed the table with his finger, while she turned away to avoid his gaze. “I think some women just think men only see you as physical conquests, that we don’t pay attention. That’s not true.” He served her another wink on a platter, smothered in charisma.

  Player…

  “From what, astrology?” She guffawed.

  “Not just that. I know women.”

  “Oh… you know women, huh?” Her brow shot up. “How old are you, Julian?”

  “Twenty-eighty, one year older than you.”

  “And in your twenty-eight years, you learned all about women, huh?” she egged on.

  “What does age have to do with it? If I were fifty-eight, would I then be considered more wise on this topic? Maybe, maybe not. Knowledge on something is based partially on interest. It interests me...you inter
est me.”

  Before she could respond with another snarky remark, their food arrived.

  Fifteen minutes later, after her first taste of the platter that the man fed to her from his fork, she decided she was having a culinary love affair. Initially, she put up a bit of a fight, but damn it, she ended up in epicurean love.

  Soooo delicious!

  She could not believe how flavorful and rich everything tasted. Rendered silent, she stuffed her mouth, though she was a bit embarrassed at how she was sure putting it away. This was a first date after all, and she was supposed to be putting her best high-heeled foot forward. Julian, however, seemed at times so crass — a cutie pie with a penchant for being a bit abrasive — but the man was on point about most everything he said. She was making things difficult for him, but truth was, she couldn’t have it both ways. She wanted to date a guy that was strong-willed and honest, and that always seemed like too much to ask; but Julian was beyond forthright and to top it all, the man had her personality pegged perfectly.

  Milan studied the man as he sat there, looking as if tangled within his own thoughts. She tapped her fork against her lip in contemplation. She didn’t believe his guess had anything to do with astrology. Rather, she placed the blame on him simply being perceptive. Yes, that had to be it…

  “Here, take a bite of this.” His fork floated over, chock full of what appeared to be flaky white meat. That terrible tofu — and though by appearances it looked like chicken, she understood her expectations needed to remain low. Surely, something out of this meatless place would be less savory…

  She was wrong.

  She wrapped her lips around the fork, forfeiting her reservations about eating from others’ utensils. Feeling a bit sheepish at the way his lips parted as he watched her, she tried to not stare him in the eye as her mouth had a damn orgasm. It didn’t matter; it was useless. She looked at him, and found that damn predictable smirk clear across his face. His gaze never left her mouth…

  He was a pervert, and not doing a very good job of hiding it.