Page 57 of Blood & Kisses

“Are you going to squeeze the trigger, or can I continue to eat my meal?” he states, unbothered and entertained by the whole fiasco. “I made a plate for you.”

I drop my eyes down to his plate of cold chicken and salad greens.

“I had a burger and fries at Burger Fuel,” I remind him. “And why did you make me a plate? I thought you wanted me to leave.”

“Make your point, Rae,” he mumbles, pressing his forehead firmer against the barrel of the handgun, making me nervous. “Kill or let live?”

I snatch a chicken leg from his plate, bite a chunk of meat from the bone, and then slap it down on his plate again.

“Come on, Rae, make your mind up,” he roars, making me flinch. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t want anything,” I lie. Emotions are curling in my mind and body, and I can’t make sense of anything anymore. I don’t even know I’m standing here holding this gun at the forehead of the man I’ve been crushing on for years.

“Why are you here then, threatening to shoot me?” he presses, picking up his glass of liquor and whiskey, I think, and sipping, as blue eyes remain fixed on my face, so I guess I am making some impact.

“To take control,” I reply, keeping my cool.

Stoking a breathy chuckle from that mouth, “Be my guest.”

“Question,” I start, wondering how far I can take this. “Did you let that man fall from the building opposite me?”

“Yes,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. “He was a sex offender who terrorized that elderly lady. I let him fall because he deserved to die.”

“Did you want me to see?” I propose curiously because I always thought he did as if he was trying to communicate with me.

“Yes,” he grunts proudly. “I wanted you to see me kill a man.”

I swallow over that lump in my throat, which seems coarser the longer I’m here with him. “Why?”

There’s a hesitation in his answer that I find intriguing. “To scare “you,” he says smoothly, takes a pause, and adds, “To show you.”

“To show me what?” I’m utterly intrigued now.

He bites his bottom lip and smirks, drawing out his answer and fueling my apprehension. I am so hungry for answers and for him to open up to me. “To show you what I’m capable of,” he finally answers, and I falter and lose my cool for a few seconds.

No, Rae, you’re in control. Here and now, you are in control.

With my spare hand, I shove his plate of food aside, and it flies off the table and smashes onto the floor. His face remains unscathed, amused, eager to see what I will do next.

I unbutton my shorts and slowly let them drop to the floor, followed by my panties, as he licks his bottom lip and rakes those baby blues all over my pussy.

“I don’t need a theatrical display, Rae,” he says sarcastically, wiggling his finger at me. “This is nothing new. I saw it all upstairs. Perhaps you need a new act.”

Ignoring his deliberate callousness to wound me or weaken my confidence, I climb onto the table before him, spread my legs, and snarl, “The only dinner you’ll be eating is me.”

He chuckles, “Now we’re talking,” and licks along my inner thigh to my clit and sucks hard, making me scream. I gyrate my body against his tongue strokes, quick short movements, as he pushes his face right into me, nibbling, sucking, moving down to my canal, sliding his tongue inside, drawing out my orgasm quickly.

Weakness comes over me, succumbing to his touch, and the gun falls from my hand onto the floor. I scramble to reach down to pick it up, but he gets there before me.

“This loaded?” he asks, licking me off his lips. He checks the cartridge, cocks his eyebrow to find that it is loaded, then those eyes drop back down to my wet pussy, knowing that I haven’t quite finished and I’m wondering what he has planned. I start moving away from him, but he grabs my ankle and pulls me back to him. “You’re not going anywhere,” he snarls, back in control, locking his gaze with mine, filled with fear.

His lips part, and he claims my mouth, kissing me soulfully, deeply, his tongue dancing with mine, as something cold and steely slides into my pussy.

“Are you going to shoot me down there?” I challenge. Now, the shoe is on the other foot.

“No,” he declines, biting my bottom lip as he moves the gun inside of me.

“Why not?” I prompt, tipping my head back and arching my back as my body responds favorably to the chill sensation inside me.

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