Page 40 of Forbidden
You.Ugh. I take a big sip of my water. Hopefully it will quench this thirst.
“I don’t know. This was your idea.”
“Pool?”
“Okay.”
He hands me a cue and racks up the balls, while I chalk the tip. “You break.”
“Sure thing, baby doll.”
He breaks, and balls go rolling in all directions. Two drop into the corner pockets, a solid and a stripe.
“Solids.” He grins at me.
He moves around the table to where I’m standing, leaning over to take a shot. That’s when I see the gun handle sticking out of the back of his jeans.
“Is that a Glock seventeen?”
No doubt surprised, he scratches and turns toward me.
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“My dad was a cop. He taught me a few things. Gen four?”
“Yeah.”
He removes it from his waist and hands it to me. “I love the new grip.” I release the magazine, check the chamber and point it right between his eyes. He grins, awe apparent in the blue orbs.
“Damn. You just might be the perfect woman.”
“Yeah? If you think so now, wait ‘til you see me shoot.”
I pull the trigger and he grabs my wrist, pulling me against him. I lean into him, shivering as he slides his hands around my waist.
“October can’t come quick enough.”
I step back with a coy smile, re-load the magazine, and hand it to him. He tucks it back into his waist.
“What’s so special about October?”
“Just wait and see, baby doll.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“I don’t know. It just fits you, I guess.”
“And all this?” I wave my hand around to indicate the current situation. “Why do you care? And don’t tell me that it’s because you want to fuck me. I know you don’t have a problem getting laid.”
“True. There’s just something about you. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Oh, you can put your finger and anything else you want on it! Jesus. The game. Just think about the game.
“You scratched. My turn.”
I pick up the cue ball and position it for an easy shot. As I’m about to take it, he presses against my ass. Holy fuck, he’s as hard as a rock. I put the cue down, closing my eyes as I straighten. I turn around slowly and he backs me up against the table.
“Or maybe Mark Twain was right. ‘There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable’.”
