Page 22 of Morsel

She locks onto my gaze.

“Try it,” she says. “Forget about the forks and knives. Eat with your hands, like we were meant to.”

A primal feast. My mind is a mess, and my cock bulges.

Every eye in the restaurant sears into us. We’re going to get kicked out. I should tell Mona to stop.

The words don’t form. Besides, even if I tell her what to do, she may not listen. Instead, I wait for the server to ask us to leave.

I simply can’t look away.

My dick presses against my metal zipper. There’s an animalistic nature to Mona, a quality I want to hold on to, and the back of my neck tingles with warning and thrill. She’s doing this for me, isn’t she? She’s putting on another show to turn me on.

She’s not going to play into your fantasies, my brain warns. Look at how she’s eating the steak. She’s the one who’s going to eat you alive, you pathetic little freak.

That can’t be true, though. She may like teasing cannibalism from both ends—consumer and consumed—but her personal ad asked for someone to eat her.

As she licks the blood off of her fingers, I realize she’s finished her steak. Her Brussels sprouts and the potatoes are completely untouched.

Mona is a carnivore, then. At least for now. I’m sure I can convince her to experiment with other diets, even if it’s only while we’re roleplaying.

“I love a good steak,” she says. “Don’t you?”

I stare down at my plate. The meat has cooled, and the puddle of red blood creates an unappetizing sludge with the butter sauce.

This was supposed to be my turn, where I showed Mona how I can fulfill her darkest fantasies too. Instead, she took over again. Pushing me aside. Ignoring me.

My scalp prickles, and my dick is flaccid again.

I’m not hungry. Not anymore.

Not for that.

“Some people say I come on too strong,” Mona says. Her teeth click, then she wiggles her fingers at the little girl watching her. The mother scowls. Mona wipes her lips with her napkin, her smug expression taunting the mother. Then Mona faces me, still clinging to that pompous attitude. “Am I too much for you, Kent?”

I grit my teeth. Another taunt. Another tease. Another way to mess with me.

I can see why most people would think Mona is too much. She’s pale, like she does her art in a basement without any light, and her eyes are so dark with makeup, it’s like she’s got two shadowed holes for eyes. And with her short height, you’d think she’d be easily overlooked, but her personality is too big to be dismissed. Her willingness to indulge in wine baths, cannibalistic movies, and eating food with her hands in the middle of a crowded restaurant is completely out of the ordinary. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hasn’t had many relationships either, like me.

Even if she is too demanding, there are things we have in common. Things I’m willing to sacrifice myself for. I’ll let her have the upper hand for now, if it means I’ll get what I want later.

“No,” I say. “You know what you want. It’s not everyday you meet someone like that.”

A high-pitched voice breaks in. “I see you liked your steak.” The server pauses, then subtly grimaces at me. “Do you want to take that home, sir?” I nod, and she hands me a foam box. “I brought some dessert menus.”

“You’re a doll,” Mona says. She happily takes the menus, and the server disappears. Mona shows me a picture of a dessert. “They have bread pudding. Do you want some dessert?”

Underneath the table, Mona is probably spread out. Pantiless. Her pussy flaps hot and sweaty. Her skin moist with the animal proteins digesting in her stomach. Her fleshy meat rubbing against the seat cushions.

After eating that steak, she’ll have a metallic taste, and even though she’s not premium meat right now, I still want to taste her.

My head spins with lust. Maybe I am hungry after all, but not for sugar.

“I want you,” I growl.

Her eyes glitter. “Let me go pay, then.”

I grind my teeth, my erection softening once again. The fuck is she trying to do now?

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