Page 53 of Bleeding Blackheart

Montana looks at me eagerly. “I’ve always wanted to ride in a Camero.”

Wanting to make up for my mistakes from last night, I take the keys from Colt’s outstretched hand. “Fine. Get changed and we’ll go.”

Montana hangs her head and one of her arms out the window while I speed down an empty back road. I don’t want to stop because she’s having so much fun, but I’m also scared as hell to take her out on a date.

I don’t know why Colt suggested a goddamn movie. Aren’t we supposed to go to dinner first and then the movie? But it’s hardly past breakfast, so it’s too early to go to dinner. Shit. I didn’t feed her breakfast. Should we get breakfast first or should we eat at the theater? I need a manual for this shit. I don’t know if I’m nervous or excited right now.

The last date I went on was years ago. And I left the woman at the table before the bread basket was brought out. I’ve seen Montana naked numerous times, sleep with her nearly every night, and have broken her body in half, but I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to date her. The woman I used to date guided me through everything.

I guess the order is usually flowers, dinner, then movie, so I’ll try it backwards. Movie, dinner, then flowers. I’ll stumble through this just like I’ve stumbled through everything else in my life.

Once I start to slow down, Montana pulls her head back in. Her chocolate brown hair is windblown, and her brown cheeks glisten with sweat. She has on one of the dresses I bought her when we first went shopping. A sage green knee-length one with straps that tie on paired with her tan boots. I don’t look nearly as fancy, wearing an old gray T-shirt and my worn out blue jeans, but hopefully I don’t look too bad.

With everyone at work on this early Tuesday, it takes no time at all to park, and I get out quickly, helping Montana step outside.

“Thank you.” She kisses my cheek, and it burns in response at the contact. I don’t think I’ve ever had my cheek kissed in my life, and I had no idea such an innocent gesture could make me so nervous.

I don’t want to rush a single moment with her today, so I don’t grab her hand even though I want to. It’s when we’re only halfway to the doors that she slips hers in mine, and I tighten my fingers around her small ones before she can change her mind and let go.

There’s only one film showing, and it’s something I’ve never heard of and don’t care about. Apparently Montana was supposed to see this with her friend, Charlotte, and I try to talk her out of it to do something that won’t makeher cry, but when she insists, I get our tickets, hoping this experience won’t sour her whole day.

She asks to go to the bathroom, and I let her even though I want to go in with her. Not because I don’t trust her but because I don’t want anything to happen to her. I’ve gone from wanting to shoot her to needing to protect her and I’m terrified. I’ve only felt this way once before, and I never thought I would again.

I look down at her and pull her in front of me when she returns. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really. But we can share something if you want.”

The one thing I was prepared for about dating was this—sharing food just so I can get less than half. Knowing she’s more hungry than she’s letting on, I order for us. “We’ll share a few things.”

There are so many options that I almost give up on the whole thing, but I finally decide on a large slushy, some pretzel bites, and a thing of tater tots. The cashier hands me a buzzer to wait for our food, and as soon as it’s ready, I carry our trays while Montana walks ahead of me to our theater.

We sit in the middle of the room, and with no one else present, we use the tables beside us for extra space to put everything. There’s an armrest between us that can’t bemoved, and it’s probably for the best because I might start acting up otherwise.

Montana’s grabby hands reach for the slushy, and I pass it to her, allowing her to have the first sip.

“God, Gunner, it tastes so fucking good.”

I watch her throat move under the dim lights, wishing she was whispering those words about something else in her mouth.

After several gulps, I take it from her, wanting some for myself before it’s all gone. While I drink, she leans closer to me, resting her elbows on the armrest. “What are you so damn tense for?”

I pass the drink back to her and move her hair out of her eyes. “I’m tense because I don’t want to screw up this date and end the day with you in tears again.”

She sips our drink down quickly. “I won’t end up in tears as long as you don’t leave me handcuffed to the bed when you fuck me tonight.”

I look around, making sure we’re still alone, and when I confirm we are, I slide my hand up one of her legs. “Does that mean I can’t use handcuffs on you anymore?”

She pulls my hand higher between her legs. “Gunner, you can use whatever the hell you want on me as long as I get to come this time.”

I run my thumb over the crotch of her lace panties. “I promise, you will come every time, Montana.”

Spreading her legs wider, she pops the large straw out of her mouth. “I’m gonna hold you to that, you know.”

“I want you to.” I slide a finger inside her right when she puts the straw back in her mouth, squeezing her lips around it. I run my thumb over her clit for the first time while I pump my finger a little faster, causing her to squirm. This definitely doesn’t feel like proper first date etiquette, but no one ever taught me manners.

Her pussy gets slicker with each flick of my digit, giving me room to add a second one and slide both in deeper.

“Fuck, Montana, you are so goddamn wet.” Even though I emptied myself in her hours ago, I’m desperate for more. Twelve years. Twelve years, and my thirst is not anywhere close to being quenched.

---