Blackjack tastes so good that I struggle not to take a bite. I repeat in my head how people don’t like being bitten. Don’t piss off the sexy man whose hands are sliding under my shirt.

Between my legs, his erection struggles against his jeans. I press my hips lower, craving more pressure from his cock against my pussy.

“Wait,” he mumbles when I unbutton my shirt.

“No,” I say and cover his complaining lips with my hungry ones.

“Stop.”

Blackjack grabs my upper arms and forces me away from him. I try to break free, but he’s too strong.

“I want to fuck,” I say. “My pussy is so hot right now. It hurts and needs sex.”

Blackjack leans his head back and closes his eyes. “Crap. Stop talking about your pussy before I come in my pants.”

“Come in my pussy instead. Why are you telling me to stop?”

“I’m old-fashioned and think a man should wait until after the pizza arrives before he plows a woman for the first time,” he says and then looks me in the eye. “Preferably, our first fuck won’t be on the couch either. I’d like to have you stretched out and at my disposal.”

Trying to wiggle free, I study his face. “I’m horny now.”

“Think of sports.”

“No. I want to think about cock and pussy and putting those two together. Now let me go.”

“If I let you go, you need to sit on the other end of the couch.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll eat my pizza alone.”

“You can’t kick me out.”

“I’ll leave then.”

Even believing Blackjack is full of shit about leaving, I won’t chance him going. Today’s been one of my favorites, and I don’t want it to end.

“I’ll sit over there. I promise.”

His dark eyes narrow, clearly distrusting me. I smile for him, but I don’t know if I look honest or crazy.

Blackjack lets go of my arms, and I slide off his lap before crawling to the other end of the couch.

“See?” I ask, and he nods. “I don’t get sentimental about sex, but I’ll behave if you can’t handle your feelings.”

“Well, I can’t,” he says, adjusting his jeans. “You’re gorgeous, and I want to fuck you, but not now and not here.”

“Okay.”

Silence hangs in the air for a long time. I look around the living room and like the changes Blackjack made. The TV on the wall seems better than on a tiny stand. The new lights make the house less gloomy. The lava lamp is really cool, but my favorite change is the colorful picture I bought.

“Elephants are so weird-looking,” I say, leaning closer to the painting. “I didn’t think they were real when I saw them on TV, but then we went to the zoo last year. They seem like monsters, and I was scared when we stood too close to the enclosure. Then I realized they were lazy and didn’t do anything.”

“Everything is new for you.”

“Before Ginger, I only cared about eating, fucking, sleeping, and shitting. I didn’t think there was anything outside of the two rooms. There was mine and the room I saw when the door opened. I thought everyone lived in that other room. I didn’t know where food came from. It just all magically happened in the other room. In my room, there was mostly darkness. The TV played people talking, but they made no sense to me. I talked to them sometimes, but they didn’t answer me, so I stopped.”

Blackjack stretches out his legs on the coffee table. “I can’t imagine so many years in the dark.”

“Sometimes, I could remember when I was younger and how there was more than just the two rooms. Except I couldn’t be sure the memories were real. They were scary too because I remember the world outside the rooms as really loud and bright. People were always yelling, and I remember feeling pain. I remember someone shaking me and screaming in my face. I don’t know who that was except it wasn’t my father, Hal. I knew his face, and he didn’t yell. He mumbled words and I didn’t understand most of what he said. He clapped and snapped his fingers to get me to move. I would watch him and wonder if he was speaking a different language than the people on the TV. Nobody made any sense to me.”

“But you understand now.”

“Mostly. Sometimes, I watch TV and don’t understand. I have trouble thinking of the entire world because it seems too big. Like how the planet is just one of many and the sun is a ball in the sky. It makes my head hurt sometimes. If I think of living a life in the way Ginger lives hers, I can follow things. I know how to cook and where food comes from. I know hamburgers were cows, and I know what cows are, but I sometimes forget that pork is from pigs. So, I understand enough, but not everything.”

“Do you understand what you do to me?”

Grinning, I peek down my shirt. “I make you feel horny, and your dick gets hard, and you want to see me naked.”

“You also make my heart hurt.”

“How come?” I ask, no longer smiling.

“Because I care about you. I want you to stay with me, but I’m not sure you’re ready to.”

“I can do whatever I want.”

“But should you do whatever you want?”

“Do you do whatever you want?”

“Fuck no.”

“What do you want to do that you don’t?”

“I don’t know,” he says, scratching his beard like a grumpy bear. “I get an urge to visit my family. Especially this time of the year. You know, I see people getting together with their relatives for Thanksgiving, and I get nostalgic for that kind of thing. Then I remember I’m not welcome at my parents’ house.”

“How come?”

“They think I’m a criminal.”

“You are a criminal,” I point out.

“Yeah, now, but they were thinking that way when I went to juvie.”

“Weren’t you a criminal then?”

“No. Well, I mean, the law thought I was, but I didn’t see it that way. I’d killed a shitty fucker. To a lot of people, I’d be a hero, but my family wrote me off as a bad seed.”

“Who did you kill?”

“I don’t want to talk about that tonight.”

“How come?”

“Because I’m happy and talking about that shit brings up a lot of fucked-up feelings.”

“You’re happy?” I say and crawl closer. “Because of me or because you’re living somewhere better?”

“Your place is nice, but I don’t need much more than a bed. What makes me a cheery fucker is what I’ve found with you.”

“What’s that?”

“A fucked-up woman who doesn’t ruin me,” he says, and his gaze refuses to let me go.

“So far.”

“You listened when I asked you not to take off your shirt. Later, when I ask you to get naked, I hope you’ll listen again.”

Grinning, I scoot closer. Blackjack watches me with a distrustful look in his eyes. I finally rest my head on his shoulder and study the tattoos on his arm.

“I prefer being naked. I spent years naked. Clothes look pretty, but they get in the way of moving around.”

“I want to kiss you. If I do, you’ll climb into my lap and make my dick too hard to answer the door.”

“I can answer it.”

“True,” he says and leans down, so his lips nearly meet mine. “I really don’t want you outside with the pizza man, though.”

“Then don’t kiss me. We can’t chance it.”

Blackjack smirks and leans down to nuzzle his lips against mine. I want so badly to climb on his lap and return to the hot moment from earlier. Rather than give into my sexual need, I remember the rules for when I’m with people I care about—keep my word, allow people boundaries, and don’t be greedy.