SEVEN
Peyton
I told myself I wasn't going to talk to him.
I promised myself, in fact.
To say he was the least likely person I could have anticipated seeing there when I walked in for my shift would be an understatement.
I had spent the last few days, in fact, trying not to think about him at all. This was not an easy task. Because Jamie, though a good, reliable friend, also never kept anything from Savea. So once Jamie knew that Sugar had clearly gotten to me, so did Savvy. And while Jamie was content just to let the chips fall where they may, be there for me if I wanted to talk, she never felt the need to try to pry things out of me, Savvs, well, she was a pryer.
After her shift on Monday, she had come into the library, propped herself on my desk, and demanded information.
The only reason I didn't kick her out was that she came bearing coffee. And I had not been sleeping well. Dreams had been shocking me awake. Then I was generally too pissed at myself for having sexy dreams about him that I couldn't calm myself back down enough for sleep.
He was messing with my sleep.
Which meant I was getting bags under my eyes that no amount of makeup could cover.
He was fucking with my look.
And that, well, was a damn castration-worthy offense.
So it was good I didn't come across him.
Yet here he was.
Cock intact.
At my work.
Just breathing up all my air.
Making it impossible to focus.
Why?
That was a good question.
Sure, it made sense that he maybe pulled the short straw and got saddled with babysitting at the library when all of them would likely prefer spending time at the salon, or wherever else all the women worked. At least at Kennedy's they could bullshit and hit on the women who came in.
Unless their interest ran toward the casket-robbing, they were shit out of luck here.
Lo's people always seemed to accept the duty with their usual steadfast silent diligence, nothing ever seeming to shake those people. Cyrus, being who he was, always managed to charm the old folks, get on with me, enjoy his shift. Once, I caught him reading something. He had, oddly, freaked and told me not to tell Reese, that it was a surprise. And outside of him, I had really only seen Cash around who very much got on here as well as Cy did.
So it was legit that he had been forced to pull the library shift today. But he should have left when Reese did. That was the job. Protecting Reese. From what or who, I had no idea. But the job was over as soon as Cy took her home.
Yet here he was.
Reading.
Not saying anything.
Just being there.
I don't know what finally did it, why I couldn't keep my mouth shut anymore.
I wasn't even aware I was going to say anything until I heard my voice echo across the quiet space.
"Leave."
To his credit - likely thanks to a lifetime being an outlaw - he didn't start at the sudden sound. In fact, it was like the impact of the word didn't get to him until a full moment later when he flagged his page with a slip of paper that was at the edge of the desk. His body uncurled slowly before he turned completely to me, head tipped to one side with that cocky, confident swagger he wore so well.
"I checked the hours on the way in. I am free to stay here until nine p.m."
"Right. Because you have suddenly become such a bookworm."
Ugh.
It was one thing to be sarcastic and crazy and maybe a bit abrasive at times. It was another to be snippy and bitchy.
No one liked snippy and bitchy.
I didn't like snippy and bitchy.
Why he was bringing it out of me, that was the mystery.
Except, to be honest, it really wasn't. There was no mystery. I was snippy and bitchy because I wanted more of this man. And I never wanted more of a man. That wasn't how I operated. They were interchangeable, good for, well, a good time. That was all. For everything else, I had my sister, the Mallicks, the Rivers, Jamie, Savvy, Ronnie, and a dozen or so other friends. They gave me everything I needed. The love, the fun, the support, the heartfelt conversations, the willingness to be on my arm to go to movies, events, anything.
All that was leftover for men was sex.
Just how I liked it.
Why, then, was this man, this man I hardly knew from Adam, this man who was just hot and sexy, and a really good lay... suddenly making me want weird things?
Like to know what he thought about the book in his hand, a favorite of mine.
Like to figure out what music he liked.
Like wondering if he would watch bloody TV shows with me and eat Chinese food.
Ugh.
What was wrong with me?
"What are you reading?" I asked, seeming unable to keep the question to myself even though I already know, clearly just wanting to engage him.
He moved a few steps closer, turning the book cover-side out, revealing one I had put on the staff recommends shelf just a few days ago. It had a tame enough cover and title to fool the daytime librarians, so they didn't pull it immediately like they did when I put racier stuff there.
I squashed down a strange jumpy feeling in my chest at the idea of him picking that one. Of all the choices there.
"And what do you think of it?"
"You recommended this one, right?" he asked, lips tipped up slightly at one side.
"Yeah."
His gaze went to the book, turning it over in his hands, considering it for a second before his head lifted again.
"Baby, you're so fucked up."
It was a compliment wrapped in an insult.
"I know, right?" I asked, unable to hold back the smile that stretched wide enough to make my cheeks hurt. "And you're not even to the twisted part yet," I told him, noting his bookmarked spot. I had no idea how long he had been reading, but he was mostly done. He read fast. I found that almost intolerably sexy. Most men I knew didn't read anything at all, let alone read it fast.
"It gets crazier than the knife threesome?"
"Way crazier," I said, leaning over the counter, liking it way too much when his gaze dipped to the low V of my bodice.
"And you don't have trouble sleepin' at night?" he asked, shaking his head at me.
Only because of you, you fuckface. "Nope."
"Fucked up," he reiterated, turning suddenly.
"Where are you going?"
"Taking a walk," he said casually, but there was something underneath his words, something that said he was expecting me to follow him.
"Maybe that walk should end up in the American History section," I suggested, watching as he turned his head over the shoulder, brows low. At seeing my smirk, he shot me one back.
"Well, it is important to know where we came from," he agreed, heading off to find the section.
You know... the only section in the whole library without a camera that looks over it. The cameras had been updated just a few months ago, the cops worried that Third Street was dealing here because it was easy not to be seen. And since they knew it was really only women who worked here, instead of setting up a sting - or whatever they called it - they had tipped us off, so we could be safer.
I think it had less to do with kindness and more to do with fear of the repercussions if something ever went down, and Reese and I got caught in the crossfire. Seeing as I had the Mallicks and the Rivers, and Reese had The Henchmen, Paine, Enzo, and even, by extension thanks to her sister, the guys who worked at Sawyer Investigations. All the police bribes would dry up if something happened to us on their watch.
I checked out the books for the last older lady, likely wanting to get home before it got too dark both for eyesight and safety reasons. The checkouts were all done by computers, encouraging you step by step how to do so yourself, but I had found over the years that it was less - with the older people - that they didn't know how to do it themselves, and more that they were starved for conversation and connection, that talking to me was maybe the most interaction they had had all day. Or maybe even all week. And since this lady was not informing me - as though I didn't already know - that tattoos were permanent, or telling me that they would make me look ugly in a wedding dress - because my only goal in life must be marriage - I was happy to chat with her for a few minutes.
Once that was handled, I took a cart with me, pretending like I was a very dedicated re-stocker when I would usually just leave them for the volunteers to handle in the morning since I technically wasn't supposed to walk away from the desk. You know, because of the cash box in the back. Full of dimes for late fees. We were really in danger of losing those fifteen dollars!
I shelved a few books in the romance and cooking sections before strolling through the travel guides, and finally landing myself in the American History section, finding Sugar leaning against a wall, foot cocked back on it, holding a copy of an old, outdated textbook about the settlers and the Native Americans, making it all about sharing and Thanksgiving and not about the systematic rape and murder that really happened.
"This is some bullshit," he informed me, flashing the cover at me that featured a picture of Natives handing a basket of corn to the settlers.
"I know, right? Reese purges the sections every once in a while, getting rid of beat-up or outdated copies. I don't know how that one slipped through."
"I'm pretty sure this was taught in my high school," he told me, shaking his head as he dropped it back into its place on the shelf. "So," he said, turning his wicked smile in my direction, eyes dancing. "American History because it is the only section of this place not covered by cameras?" he guessed.
"How..."
"Baby," he cut me off with a head shake. "Been in crime my entire life. I'd have been locked up ten times over if I couldn't figure out how security cameras worked. So, what? Do you have a book thief or some shit?"
"The cops think that Third Street has been using the library for deals," I supplied.
"Right," he said, chuckling. "And if I could figure out that this section is a dead zone in two minutes, I figure they have figured out it is a dead zone by now too. Tell your boss to turn the one by that teen room about ten degrees, and it will still catch the door to that room... and this section."
"Will do," I agreed because, though I was pretty comfortable about crime at this point, I didn't like the idea of gang members dealing heroin so close to a bunch of idiot - I would say impressionable, but let's face it, teens are idiots - kids. "But tomorrow."
"Why tomorrow?" he asked, the way his eyes were slightly hooded already telling me he knew exactly why.
"Well, you see," I said, moving a few feet to the left, knowing he was watching my ass as I moved, and liking that a bit too much, "this is the American History section, but it is also the anatomy section," I told him, pressing my hand to the endcap of the row of anatomy books that only young boys or med students ever seemed to check out.
"Anatomy, huh?"
"Yeah, and see," I said, reaching my hand down toward the hem of my skirt, "I seem to need to brush up on that."
"On anatomy," he repeated, not moving, just leaning against the wall, watching every small move I made.
When my hand snagged the hem of my skirt and started dragging it up, his eyes went down, watching the motion, his breathing getting a little more shallow as more and more of my thighs got exposed. "I mean, this muscle right here," I said, reaching down with my other hand to stroke up my thigh, "I seem to forget what this is called."
That did it.
He pushed off the wall - slowly, languidly, like he always did - and put down his copy of my book, stalking over toward me, his gray eyes on me, deep, penetrating, as I could find they always were when looking at me. He stopped when there was just a breath between us, head ducked down, his hand slowly rising to touch the skin right above my knee.
"This one?" he clarified, voice already getting rough.
"Mhmm."
"This is your quadricep," he told me, voice low and rumbling, moving through my belly with a delicious rolling sensation. "And this," he went on, finger sliding up... and in slightly. "Is your adductor," he informed me as his thigh met the uber soft and sensitive skin of my inner thigh, no doubt already feeling the heat just an inch or so above.
"That is," I started, taking a deep breath when his finger stroked up, teasing the space where my thigh met my pelvis, "very informative," I finished, swallowing hard.
"Do you need more... education?" he asked, eyes pinning mine.
"Definitely," I sighed out, hand curling into the shelf at my side to hold on, knowing my legs were going to get weak sooner rather than later. "I find that learning is best when it is... hands-on."
There was a noise that moved through him then, some primal, grunting approval sound that made shocks spark through my core, causing my walls to tighten almost painfully in need.
"Well, in that case, we should continue," he said, smirk just barely there, a ghost of an actual smile toying with his lips. "This," he said, fingers pressing right into the swatch of material between my legs, "is your pussy," he told me, smile spreading a bit when my other hand slammed down on his shoulder and curled into the muscles there, needing the stability.
"Really?" I asked, my voice airy. "And do you know more about this... pussy of mine?"
"Know fuckin' everything about it," he told me as his fingers found the side of my panties and slipped in. "Like how wet it gets... and all I got to do is talk to you. And how when I do this," he told me, swiping his finger across my swollen clit, "yeah, you make that sound," he went on when a choked whimper escaped me. "And when I do this," he said, fingers slipping down, then sliding inside me, curling instantly, then raking over my top wall, "you can't breathe," he told me, even as my breath got strangled in my lungs.
"Sugar," I whimpered, leaning in, putting my head into the center of his chest as he kept working my G-spot, driving me up hard and fast.
"That's a good sound," he rumbled, fingers starting to thrust in and out, keeping me primed, but taking away the promise - or threat - of an orgasm, and I had a feeling I wouldn't get one until he was inside of me again.
"What about..." I started then stopped, having to choke back a moan, knowing that we were in a mostly-empty library, but sound carried easily through the open space. "Your anatomy?"
"I'm a fan of hands-on learning too," he told me, head dipping down a bit more, his breath warm on my ear as he spoke.
And, well, I didn't need more than that.
My hand slid down his solid chest and abs, easily finding the button and zip to his fly, undoing them, then sliding my hand inside, yanking down the front of his boxer briefs, and sliding my hand around his straining cock.
The hiss of his breath from between his lips might have been the hottest sound I had ever heard.
"Fuck me," I demanded quietly, rubbing my thumb over the wet tip of his cock.
He made that growling noise again as my free hand moved behind his back, squeezing his ass before slipping into the pocket to fetch his wallet, finding a condom, taking it out, then slipping the wallet back into place as his lips finally crashed down on mine as his fingers got more and more insistent.
"Fuck me," I repeated. This time, there was no mistaking that my tone was pleading against his lips.
"Guess you can't have a proper anatomy lesson without a... thorough sex education, right?" he asked, fingers sliding out of me, slipping up to tap on my clit before his hand grabbed the small swatch of my panties and pulled.
"Right," I agreed, feeling a thrill low in my belly at the sound of my panties ripping. I didn't even care that it was one of my favorite pairs - pastel tie-dyed with 'I donut care' on them, a giant sprinkle-covered donut as the O in the word. What can I say? I was a fan of cutesy things. But I could buy another pair; I wouldn't trade the primal way he got rid of the last barrier between us for anything.
He snagged the condom, ripping it open, and slipping it on before grabbing me at my hips, whipping me around, and bending me forward, making my ass stick out toward him. His hands went down, snagging my wrists, then placing them at the edge of a shelf as he moved behind me, his cock pressing into the cheek of my ass until I wiggled it, getting him where I needed it, sure I heard a small chuckle at my utter desperation.
There was no more talking as he grabbed his cock, slid it between my lips, tapped my clit, then slammed deep inside me.
I just barely remembered to bite into my lip as the sound rose up my throat, feeling his cock settle even deeper than it had the last time - something that didn't even seem possible.
"Fuck," I whispered when he paused for a second before his hands sank into my hips, and he started fucking me. This time, not hard, just fast.
Screw moaning, anyone within fifty feet wouldn't need that to know what was happening; the sound of our bodies slamming together floated across the air, our breathing ragged and mingled.
The lip biting became all but a show as I got closer, as my walls tightened around him, as my body threatened another shattering orgasm. Jaw tight, I managed to keep things to low whimpers.
But as his hand shifted, one slipping forward and between my thighs, working my clit with expert precision, I knew there was no way I could keep my orgasm to myself.
Seeming to sense this, his other hand left my hip, going up, and clamping over my mouth hard, muffling the cry as the orgasm finally broke through my body, making my hands shoot out, knocking half a shelf of books to the floor.
Sugar came on the end of my orgasm, slamming deep, jerking upward, and hissing out his breath.
The second my body stopped spasming, reality seemed to come rushing back in a blink.
There was no way everyone missed the slamming of books hitting the ground.
I jerked my hips forward, losing his cock, and yanking my skirt back down. Sugar, seeming on the same page as me, turned, tucked himself away, having to deal with the condom as soon as he could get himself to the bathroom.
Almost as if on cue, a head poked around the corner.
"Everything okay here?" a middle-aged woman asked, small-eyeing Sugar, likely knowing exactly who he belonged to - and their reputations - and seeming to conclude that he was attempting to assault me or something between the rows.
"Ugh, yeah," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "He threw a fit because we don't have Sexual Behavior in the Human Female by Dr. Kinsey," I said, stooping to collect the books on sexuality we had ironically knocked down. "He does not seem to grasp that female sexuality has changed since the 1950s." I shot her a smirk that she gave back. "Men," I added with an eye roll.
"Got that right. Not with both hands and a map," she added. "I am right over there at the tables if you need me," she added before turning away.
"Not with both hands and a map, huh?" he asked from behind me, sounding cocky and amused at once, which, well, was just too damn sexy. "So, was I imagining it when your pussy was squeezing my cock a minute ago?"
"Oh, shut up," I said, putting the last book in its rightful place.
"Do you need another example?" he asked, eyes wicked as he moved toward me again.
My hand slammed down in the center of his chest, holding him off. "I do actually have some work to do tonight," I told him, turning, and walking away.
I went back to the front desk, pretending not to notice him as he passed me on his way toward the bathroom. And while he was inside dealing with the condom, I tried to convince myself that this was it. I just needed another good lay. I needed to fuck him out of my system. That was all.
I had my back turned when I felt eyes on me. Sighing out my breath, I turned, ready for some asshole teen to say something vaguely - or outright - sexual to me, making me have to be the big, bad adult and scold them for it. Fucking brats making me be a grown up all the time.
But when I turned, I didn't find some teen ready to try to trip me up with what they thought was a clever innuendo.
I have a job for you... but it blows.
If I flip a coin right now, what are the chances of me getting head?
You know... I'm really on top of things. Would you like to be one?
What time do you get off? Can I watch?
I'm looking for treasure; do you mind if I search your chest?
I love snatching kisses... and vice versa.
Thinking they're so clever. I could throw out better innuendos after six shots of tequila. I'd had a lot of practice.
"Thursday night."
"What?" I asked, brows drawing together.
"Thursday night. Come to the compound."
"No." Ugh, but god yes.
"Stop being a pain in the ass. You know you want to."
"And you know this because I have practically been stalking you for a week. Oh, wait. No, that'd be you."
"Christ, Peyton. What's the problem? You like fucking me. Don't even try to deny it."
"So, you want a booty call situation?" I asked. Normally, those were words that set me on fire. Great sex with no commitment? Sign me up! But for some reason, this time, there was a weird, uncomfortable swirling sensation in my belly at the idea.
"Call it whatever you want," he invited somewhat cryptically. "But be at the compound on Thursday when you get off here."
"So you can get me off there?" I asked, smirking.
"Something like that, yeah."
"Alright, fine," I said, ignoring the voice that said if one of the Mallick or Rivers men saw me entering that building, they would come charging in after me. "But if you fall in love with me, I'm gone."
"Got it," he agreed, giving me a nod, then turning, and walking out.
It wasn't until I was done getting my busy work finished that the reality managed to set in.
I had a new fuck-buddy.
I had a new fuck-buddy who happened to be a Henchmen.
And I maybe, possibly, sort-of, kinda wanted to be more than a fuck-buddy to him.
I mean, in theory.
Not in reality.
That would be insane.
Right?
I didn't even know the man.
And that was just the way I needed to keep it.
Casual.
So I didn't get hurt.
"Hurt?"
I didn't realize I had said that out loud until the group of teens who were heading out the door turned back to look at me with drawn-together brows.
Hurt.
That was asinine.
I never got hurt. Not with men. That wasn't how it worked. I had managed to maintain a long-ass history of not-hurt-feelings when it came to the opposite sex. Sure, there was disappointment if they suddenly caught feelings and I needed to ditch them, or had whiskey dick, or found a girl and had to cut off our casual fun times. But that was it. Just disappointment. Nothing even in the same ballpark as actual hurt.
Why, then, was something inside me suggesting that there was the potential for that foreign feeling here? With Sugar... of all men. Hell, I didn't even know his real name. Or anything about him other than he was a great fuck, a shameless flirt, and had bad taste in literature.
As if sensing my inner turmoil, my phone started vibrating under my desk, making me almost lunge at it, happy for anything that could distract me.
Finding my sister's number, I smiled and accepted the call.
"I know, I know," she said as soon as I picked up. "I am never supposed to call if a text would suffice."
"And yet," I said, smiling as I sat down, propping my heels up on the desk before I remembered I didn't have panties on.
"Oh, god," I hissed, slamming my heels down so hard that the impact ricocheted up the little icepicks and into my calves and knees as I rushed out from behind my desk, making a bee-line for the anatomy section. "Shit shit shit," I added, turning the corner, eyes looking around.
But they weren't there.
My panties.
He'd ripped them off.
But they were gone.
"What's going on?" Autumn asked, sounding only vaguely concerned since she was used to a bit of melodrama from me here and there.
"Nothing. I just... lost something," I said, going back an aisle in case they somehow got kicked around.
But they were gone.
Which meant some pervy teen stole them.
Or Sugar took them with him.
"So what have you been up to? I miss talking to you. Do you still have Jamie staying with you?"
"Mostly, yeah. Sometimes she stays with Savvs. Or they both stay with me."
"Good."
"You're worried about me."
"I don't like the idea of you being alone all the time," she corrected.
"I'm a big girl."
"Yeah yeah yeah. You can take care of yourself. Blah blah blah. I'm allowed to worry about you being all alone in your apartment, whacking your head on the cabinet, dying, and being eaten by cats."
"I don't have cats."
"That doesn't matter. When a single woman dies, cats appear."
"To eat their corpse."
"Exactly."
I laughed at that, big, loud, happier than I had been in a while.
And I got shushed.
Shushed.
In my own library.
I turned to find some college-aged kid giving me the stink-eye. Which only made me laugh harder.
"So, what? The only way to avoid being eaten by cats is to become not-single?"
"Oh, I know better than to hope you settle down, start wearing an apron, and cooking chicken pot pies."
"I have an apron!"
"That says Always preheat the oven before putting the meat in."
"It is still functional. And I do cook."
"Oh yeah?"
"Mhm. Last night, I cooked Spaghetti-Os. Did you know they come in adult-sized cans now? It was like finding out they were re-releasing French Toast Crunch."
"Peyton, be serious for a minute. I want to hear how your life is going."
"Well, I finally got my phone to stop correcting rosé to rose. So I have that going for me." At her sigh, I smiled. "I'm fine, Autumn. I still miss having you around, but I'm happy for you. And I'm never alone for more than like a day at a time. Someone is always around. Cooking me breakfast, washing my sheets, deep cleaning the bathroom. You know, being a much better roommate than you ever were," I teased, knowing she would know I was joking.
"Are you coming to dinner Sunday?"
"You say this as though I have a choice."
There was no choice when it came to Sunday dinner. Charlie could talk Helen into allowing one of the guys to have some slack if they had work, but other than that, the only excuse was you were too sick to get out of bed.
Besides, I would never pass up on Sunday dinner.
First, because food.
Second, it was family.
I didn't realize until I found the Mallick and Rivers clan that I had been missing anything. I had my sister. We were the world to each other. That was all that seemed to matter.
But then I got invited to Charlie and Helen's, and it was like my soul went Oh, there you are!
I never realized that I had been yearning for a family. And not necessarily blood. I had parents by blood. And it wasn't anything special. In fact, the only blood there was bad.
So it never occurred to me that I wanted a real mother and father figure. After having shitty ones.
Then there were Charlie and Helen.
They just filled a void I didn't know was empty. And because they were who they were, they were open, honest, accepting, and fans of whatever kind of crazy you brought along with you. They didn't expect you to change. They just loved you exactly how you were.
And I cherished that.
And whatever time we got to have together.
Even though they were only a relation of mine through marriage - and not even my own marriage - I found time to drop over there on my own. Help Helen cook. Discuss new cocktail options for Chaz's with Charlie.
Sunday dinners were my favorite though. When all the crazy from all our families got together. Adults and kids alike.
And since they had all the Rivers boys to rag on about getting wives, I was generally left alone about my chronic singledom.
It's good that you know what you want. And what you don't want. That was what Helen had told me when Rush had complained that I wasn't nagged about bringing dates when they were. These men, I swear they wouldn't know what they wanted if it walked up and slapped them in the faces.
"Is there a food theme this week?" I asked, knowing that Helen had been experimenting with that idea here and there. One week was - to the groans of all the very large, very hungry men at the table - tapas. Another, it was Chinese. Once, it was Mexican. And I thought I had died and gone to burrito heaven.
"Italian this time."
"Fuck yeah," I said, my stomach already growling at the idea. "All the noodles. What am I supposed to bring? Other than my sparkling personality, and amazing ass?"
"Helen wants all us girls to come over early - without the kids - to bake some desserts instead of just pot lucking."
"Only if I get to be the one to make all the cannoli jokes," I stipulated.
"As if anyone would ever try to steal your thunder on the inappropriate cream-based humor. She said to bring Savvs and Jamie if they aren't busy. I think she's getting annoyed at all the testosterone that the Rivers bring to the table. Not enough estrogen to balance it out."
"Tell me about it. If I have to hear one more conversation about how Team A is gonna slaughter Team B in the championplayofftitlething, I am going to scream."
"Good. So bring them."
"Will do," I agreed, loving the idea of all my people in one place.
"Ronnie can come too."
I snorted at that, shuffling through the purchase log, carefully whiting out something we already had freaking ten copies of. "Ronnie is primping for the next few days then he is being whisked away to San Fransisco for the weekend by his new man."
"Aw. And you set them up, you little matchmaker you. I knew there was a hopeless romantic buried under there."
"Except I was trying to get him laid, not wifey'd up."
"Sure. Sure," she said, sounding amused.
"I don't do love."
"You do love just fine."
"I meant with men," I insisted, doing so with maybe too much emphasis, making up for the fact that I was clearly having some kind of issue with that currently.
"Someday, girlie. Someday, I am going to make you eat those words. And I am going to enjoy watching you choke them down."
"Ew. No. I'm hanging up now," I told her, shaking my head, ignoring the weird gut-punch feeling that took over my core.
To that, she laughed, a musical sound I missed hearing more often. "Alrighty. See you Sunday. If you could fall in love by then, we would all appreciate it. It would be all the better to gang up on you at once."
"Shut up. Love you."
"Love you too. Talk to you later."
"Later," I agreed, hanging up, sighing out a breath as I checked the clock.
Another hour until closing.
I had a feeling I wasn't going to be able to focus on a damn word in my book, a newly chronic problem that was putting me in a surly ass mood. How was I supposed to function without a fresh kill to calm me down, damnit?
I chose instead to attack all the surfaces in the whole damn library with antibacterial wipes, something I usually only did during flu season. I wasn't a freak like Reese who could be found wiping down the covers of books as she checked them back in. But I always found cleaning cathartic. And distracting.
I needed distraction.
As it would turn out, there wasn't a single thing that could keep me focused for the next three days. Every spare thought I had was on Thursday night. After work. When I would go to The Henchmen compound for the first time ever.
I had even packed a special outfit for it in my bag so I could doll it up in the bathroom before I headed over.
I strapped myself into a hot pink bandeau under a mostly see-through mesh black top, slipped into a tight black and white vertical striped short pencil skirt, fixed my hair and makeup, put some pretty hot pink panties on that I had maybe bought specifically for him to rip off me, and - the pièce de résistance - a pair of hot pink high heels that didn't have normal heels. Oh, no. They had lady legs and butts as heels. They were my current favorite item in my wardrobe.
I was excited to see them hiked up on his shoulder again as he fucked me.
That was the plan, at least.