Page 12 of Hero Hair

Fuck. “A plus for honesty. Sounds like we both know what we want then?”

She smiles, but it fades quickly and a mask of confusion transforms her features. I swallow hard. That’s not a promising sign. Fuck.

The waitress comes and takes our orders. We’ve both frequented this restaurant enough to know exactly what we want to eat and drink. To the degree that I’m wondering why I’ve never seen her here before. She scoots away from me, edging her way closer to the exit of the booth.

“Here’s the thing. You’re my type,” Teala says.

I grin. “Funny you mention it. You’re my type too.”

She shakes her head. “You see, the problem with this is that we don’t know anything about each other and we’re able to determine this based on superfluous, meaningless attributes.”

I hold my hands out to the sides. “I still don’t see a problem with that. If you’re trying to explain through thinly veiled statements that we’ll blow each other’s minds while naked, then yes. I agree. Let’s do that. Mind. Blown.”

She watches my mouth, her own lips part, breaths pushing through a little more rushed now that I’ve exposed the elephant in the room for what it is. Sexual chemistry.

I set my hand in between our thighs. “Come on. What do you say?”

Teala looks down at my hand and back up at my face. “I’d usually say, let’s get out of here, but I can’t.”

I blow out a long breath. Our food arrives, so I have time to figure out how to remedy this situation. I drain my beer and notice she hasn’t taken a sip of her own drink since we’ve sat down. She’s purposely staying sober. Why? Because I’m so appealing and she’s trying to hold back, or because she wants to be completely sober when I make her legs tingle? She chews slowly, politely, but keeps her eyes on her salad and far away from me. I’d think it a shy gesture if everything else about this woman didn’t ooze sex and seduction. We talk about mundane things for a second or two. She asks my age, and I answer truthfully.

For the most part, I let my food sit untouched in front of me. During a lull in conversation I tell her what I’m really thinking. “I want you,” I say, my voice just loud enough for her to hear me. “I want to fuck you. Let me fuck you into oblivion, Teala.”

Her fork clanks against her plate. My cock hardens under the table.

Swallowing the mouthful of food, her steely eyes flick up to meet mine. “Tell me about yourself instead.”

In this moment, I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman more. This isn’t insta-love, or even insta-lust. I want to insta-fuck. Plain and simple.

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