I shrug, not the least bit embarrassed after years of having to listen to the two of them.
“What happened to your no sex until the tenth date rule?”
“He makes me forget myself.”
“Good.”
I look over at my smiling sister, “Good?”
Maya nods, “Yes. Those are the best ones. The ones that make you lose all inhibitions and be reckless.”
I shrug again, not entirely convinced, scared of the way I already feel for him. Like if he asked me to elope right now, I’m not entirely sure I’d say no. How crazy and stupid is that? We’ve only had three dates, during one of which not a single word was spoken. I shouldn’t feel this way this fast.
Maya grabs the plates that are ready, “What was up with the iced tea?”
I smile. I had brought Vic an iced tea this morning. He had given me the same confused look as Maya (he has me continually thinking of ways to catch him off guard in order to get an emotion out of him). My only explanation to him was “free refills.” The left side of his mouth had curved for a fraction of a second, revealing a smile I’m so desperate to see. He drank it back like it was water, and I refilled it four more times before he left without a goodbye. He had, however, made eye contact for a brief moment. It was a start.
“You’ve got it bad,” Maya teases, poking my cheek and the corner of my mouth that is still smiling. “You’re becoming a lovesick puppy.”
“Pretty stupid of me, huh?”
“No, not as long as you don’t lose yourself in the process.”
She left me to ponder her statement while she delivered the food.
~~~~~
“Mom?” I ask a few hours later as I lounge in one of the big comfy chairs we offer by the display case, a leg draped over an arm, bouncing up and down.
She takes a step back from the display, a hand covering her mouth, and the heel of her toe tapping the floor as she evaluates it, “Hm?”
I watch her switch two books and step back again to examine the change while I come up with the best way to ask. “How do you keep from losing yourself?”
She switches them back, “Is this about that boy you’ve been seeing?”
I almost laugh. I doubt anyone has ever called Vic a boy, not even when he was one. “You know about him?”
She gives me a pointed look. The café gossips worse than teenage girls.
“Yes,” I reluctantly reveal. My parents raised my sister and I to be independent, to be feminists; not in an extreme way, but in a healthy, empowering way.
“It’s normal to feel that way in the beginning.”
My mom goes to the mystery section, motioning for me to follow, continuing when I do, “I was that way with your dad.”
“How so?”
“He was nothing like what I had expected to want,” her fingers trail the spines, in search of a particular one. “I thought I’d find some literary professor or writer of some sorts, not some Birkenstock and tie-dye wearing goon who smoked pot. Yet I fell anyway. Hard and fast. Recklessly you could even say,” she pulled out a few, handing them over for me to take. “By the end of the first date I knew he was the one, by the end of the fourth I was hopelessly in love. It was very confusing for me. He didn’t fit the mold I had created.”
I adjust the growing pile in my arms, “I don’t want to change for some guy.”
She taps her lips, head tilting back to better view the top shelf, “Do you feel you’ve changed?”
Yes. I had sex with a man on the third date, the same night we kissed for the first time. That wasn’t me. I repeat what I told Maya, searching for a better answer, “He makes me forget myself.”
“That’s not always a bad thing.”
Chapter 8
I leave the café at the end of my shift, not at all surprised to find Vic there waiting for me. He hadn’t said he would, but now that we’re having sex it changes our relationship, we’ve moved past formalities.
I try to hold in a smile from how excited I am to see him.
Vic begins walking and I stop him, “I’m not hungry.”
He stares at me with his usual straight-faced expression.
“Not yet anyway,” I smirk, praying he can understand what I mean.
He doesn’t reply, turning in the direction of my place and taking us there at full stride. He’s stripping off my clothes halfway up the stairs. By the time we reach my room he has me bent over the bed, hands firmly on my hips as he fucks me from behind, his own pants around his ankles. I come stronger than I did the night before.
I wince when he pulls out.
Vic gently places a hand at my opening, rubbing the tender area, “We should hold off for a day or two.”
“I don’t want to.” I mean it. I’m addicted to his cock. It’s all I thought about today besides who it belongs to.
“We still have our mouths,” he mentions seductively, causing heat to spread through my body.
“Freya?!” Maya calls from the front door, sounding worried. “You here?”
“Here!” I shout back.
I pull my pants up, Vic doing the same. I look around for my shirt.
“Stairs,” Vic reminds me from where he tore it off like he was going to detonate if he didn’t get me naked.
I scurry there, my naked breasts on full display for Maya to see at the front door.
She laughs as I pull it on and I can hear her closing the door.
“You had me worried,” she explains. “The front door was slightly open, which is so unlike you. You normally check it three times. I thought someone had broken in.” She holds up her cell, “I was about to call the cops.”
Vic comes up behind me, nothing out of place on him to show that he had just fucked me so hard my teeth had rattled.
I fix my ponytail, “Sorry.”
“Orgasms come first. I get it,” she says over her shoulder as she retreats to the kitchen. “I’m just glad it wasn’t your vibrator.”
Vic raises a brow at me and it’s really fucking sexy. I give him a guilty look.
“Later, you show me,” he demands.
With any other man that would have horrified me; with Vic, it excites me. I have a vision of me getting myself off while he stands by the side of the bed, his big cock in hand, stroking it while he watches me.
“Definitely,” I agree, ready to go do it right now.
I quickly go down the stairs to get some water.
“The gang’s going out. You two interested?” Maya asks as I fill a glass with water and hop onto the counter. Maya gets off early on Saturday nights as part of her deal with Dad. In return, she does his share of inventory every month (he loathes inventory).
I look to Vic, expecting him to say no.
He takes my glass of water. “Sure,” he answers before finishing it off. Even him drinking from the same glass as me is a turn on.
Maya seems just as surprised as I am. “We usually go to the brewery close by.”
“I know.”
“Right. You’ve seen us there.” She exits, “I’m going to shower. We meet them in thirty.”
Vic moves between my legs, wrapping them around him, hands resting on the counter to the sides of my hips.
My finger traces his lips, wet from the water. His mouth is captivating. Not too big, not too small. Just right. The cupid’s bow indents further than most. I touch the scar, “When did you get this?”
“Twelve. Family dog bit me.”
I huge smile spreads across my face.
“What?”
“I just guessed something right about you. I’m proud of myself.” I peck his lips like him being in my kitchen and us talking happens every day. “How did it happen?”
His features darken, “You don’t want to hear that story.”
“Yes I do.” I want to hear every story he has to tell; especially the ones that change his expression.
“Not tonight.”
Instead we make out until Maya comes back. I remember I’m stil
l dressed in work clothes and quickly change into my favorite jeans and purple lace knit top.
Maya holds my hand as we walk to the pub, Vic following a few feet behind us. She’s busy chatting about an incident at the café where a customer kept changing tables, convinced every one of them was wobbly.
I peek over my shoulder at Vic. His brows have inched closer as he stares at the cell in his hand. He shoves it back into his pocket, the indent between his brows fading.
The group is waiting for a table when we arrive. All five of them focus on Vic in surprise. This is the first time I’ve had a guy join our group, but I’m sure it’s mostly due to the fact that Vic is out of place among us. We all joke about how we still feel like lost teenagers, where Vic knows he’s a man, holds himself like a man, and never acts silly or goofy (at least from what I’ve seen, but that would be a total shocker if he did).
“Vic’s joining us,” I feel the need to explain to all of them.
Chloe and Liza look elated, Keith is already scrutinizing him to make sure he’s good enough, Flynn is intrigued, and Ray looks like I just slapped him.
I introduce them all and Vic politely shakes their hands.
“So Victor, what kind of beer do you drink?” Chloe asks as we take our table.
“Vicsuyan,” Vic corrects, his accent strong as he says it.
Maya’s face scrunches, “Vicsuyan? What is that?”
“European.”
I laugh. That tells nothing.
Vic’s hand rests on my thigh, giving it a squeeze that makes my stomach clench.
“Double IPA is fine,” Vic answers Chloe’s question in a tone that makes it clear that we are moving forward in the conversation.
Everyone chats about what they want and I lean in closer so my hushed tone can be heard by only Vic, “Is that really your favorite?”
“It’s yours.”
I had a feeling that would be his reply.
“How do you know all my favs?”
“I’ve been watching you.”
My stomach clenches again. He knows what I drink and my favorite restaurants, but I didn’t even know his full name was Vicsuyan. “What’s your last name? Your real one.”
The waitress appears to take our order.
Vic’s lips come to my ear and his accent is once again thicker, sending chills through my entire body, “Vitalle.”
Vicsuyan Vitalle. Is it possible to cream in your pants from a name alone? Because I’m pretty sure that just happened to me.
Everyone is still carrying on about their day. I can’t concentrate on anything other than Vic’s hand rubbing and massaging up and down my thigh. He stops between my legs, just enough to let his fingers brush where I am now constantly aching for him before making his way back down. Although I’m wearing jeans, it arouses me as though I were wearing a skirt.
When the beer arrives we place our orders.
“To the weekend!” We all cheer, even though none of us have typical nine-to-five jobs. We clink glasses, my friends hesitant to go near Vic, his presence detached. Not in an aloof I’m-better-than-you way, just in that air of power he possesses, like he is a leader out to mingle with the commoners.
Vic squeezes my thigh to get my attention. He leans in, “That boy shouldn’t be staring at you like that.”
He means Ray. Ray likes to stare. I’m used to it.
I speak just as low, “He’s harmless,”
“You’re not his to stare at.”
I glance up to meet his darkened brown eyes, “Am I yours?”
I know it’s too soon to be making any statement as to what our relationship is, but I’m already attached. Possessive even.
“Yes,” he states, so clearly that it sounds incontrovertible.
“Good,” I respond, just as sure.
We still have not looked away from the other.
Our lips connect, his tongue peeking out to caress mine. My mouth follows his when he stops, wanting more as it retracts.
The table has gone silent. Everyone in shock.
I should mention that I hate public displays of affection. Or at least I did. I would barely tolerate hand holding in the past.
“So, Vic,” Keith shifts in his seat, taking down half his beer. “What is it that you do?”
“I’m an independent contractor.”
“Can you be more specific?”
I stare Keith down, hoping my glare is evil enough to shut him up, knowing he felt inclined to interrogate him for our past and his good friend Ray.
“People pay me when my services are needed,” Vic specifies in a way that lets you know he’s done with the conversation. He takes his utensils, precisely placing them where they belong: the fork on left, the knife on the right, both the same distance apart from the plate. He does this every time I see him eat, even at the café.
Keith goes to say more, but his wife cuts him off, “Anybody up for playing drunken Taboo after?”
We all happily agree. It’s been months since we last played.
“Please tell me you’ll play too, Vic?” Liza pleads. “I’m always the odd man out with teams.” She usually ends up being the time keeper and keeps us from cheating, as we can get very competitive.
“If Freya is playing, I’m playing,” Vic affirms. Have I ever mentioned how sexy he says my name? Because he does. It’s the way he’s says his R’s, the way the letter rolls from his tongue and past his lips.
“We’re always a team,” Ray reminds me with somewhat of a pout. It’s incredibly childish looking on him. I hated that look when we were dating too. He uses it every time he doesn’t get his way.
“Freya has me now,” Vic speaks, his tone clear he is talking about more than just a game.
Our food arrives just in time to cut through the tension. We eat, Vic taking his time, savoring each bite. Instead of inhaling my food like I usually do, I have become slower, but only because I’m too busy watching Vic eat. The way his mouth wraps around his fork. The way his strong, masculine hands hold the knife and fork. The way the veins in his arms pop through as he cuts his food (yes, he uses a knife and fork to eat pizza. I have yet to see him eat anything with his hands). The way his jaw moves. All of it. It’s sensual. It’s arousing. It’s unbelievably sexy.
Vic offers me a bite, having noticed the way I keep watching him. I almost shake my head no but change my mind. I wrap my lips around his fork, slowly pulling it, eyes never wavering from his. I lick my lips when I’m done. He immediately feeds me another bite. I do the same from my plate, except I hold the pizza in my hands, bringing the end to his mouth. Grease coats his lips. I lean over and lick it off.
“More,” he gruffly demands. He gets no argument. We go back and forth every couple of bites. This should be how we eat all our meals. We are unaware of anyone else at the table, in our own secluded world until we help each other finish.
I’m on my third beer and feeling the effects of the high alcohol content. When we stand to leave I place a hand on Vic’s arm to steady myself.
Maya comes to our side, finishing off the last few sips of my beer and the other half of Vic’s glass that’s still from his first pour.
Vic’s face shows his disgust and my slightly drunken state giggles, “You’re such a germaphobe.”
His face goes back to being neutral, leading me out the front with a hand placed on my lower back.
We head back to my place, all of us drunk or highly tipsy except Vic; it’s the only way to play Taboo. Really, it’s the only way to play any game with friends.
Ray takes his usual seat on the couch. I usually sit in the middle or in the chair Vic takes. Liza’s on the far end of the couch. Maya and Flynn take the floor. Chloe and Keith share the recliner.
Vic goes to pull me onto his lap but Maya is tugging on my arm to get me into the kitchen, “Help me bring out drinks.”
The group gets the game out and sets up.
“Man.” Maya pulls beers from the fridge, “What was that at dinner? I’ve nev
er seen two people feed each other like they were having sex.”
Our kitchen only has an island and a dining table that separate us from the living room. I glance over to make sure nobody is listening.
I’m just as baffled, “I don’t know. He makes me so…I don’t know…lost in him.”
“Obviously,” my sister scoffs, though not in judgement or worry.
I help her pop the caps off.
“It was pretty fucking hot,” she adds. “And you’re my sister. I can only imagine what the others were thinking.”
“I don’t want to know.”
She laughs, “No, you probably don’t.”
We carry out the drinks, handing them out.
I take my place on Vic’s lap. He pulls my legs over, securing them in place. I drape an arm around his shoulders for better comfort. “Do you know how to play?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
I tell the room we’ll go last to give Vic the chance to observe.
The gist of the game is that you’re given a word that you want your partner to guess; however, under that word are a list of words that you cannot say, thus making it more challenging. You try and get through as many cards as you can before your time is up.
When it’s our turn we’re interrupted by Vic’s cell ringing. He shifts enough to get to it. He frowns at the screen. I take a peek. The name Vault is on the screen, but no picture to accompany it.
He presses accept, getting up and gently having me slide into his place, the phone pressed to his chest. “Excuse me,” he tells the room, stepping outside and closing the door behind him.
Everyone takes turns using the bathroom.
“Continue without me,” I suggest when he still hasn’t returned.
“I’ll take this round with you,” Ray offers.
I agree, not wanting to miss out on my favorite game with my friends.
One card in and Vic’s voice carries in from outside.
We all pause to hear.
“Back off...This is what I do…You want me to be sure?...Then let me do my job.”
The doorknob rattles and Ray and I jump back into playing, trying to make it appear like we weren’t eavesdropping.
Like a Fox Page 5