Page 48 of Unwrapping Deviance

Again, he rocks his head slowly from side to side. “That’s not what I mean.”

I don’t hear what he means when Mira returns with a fistful of napkins. Her face is a delicious red as she sets a knee on the edge of the bench and bends forward.

All thoughts of our conversation vanish as she gives her bare pussy to Daniel while I get a clear, perfect view of her perfect tits down the front of her dress. They sway and jiggle with her every scrub. The nipples are the sweet pink of candy hearts I want to crush between my teeth.

Behind her, Daniel’s transfixed by her wiggling ass. I know he’s thinking how easy it would be to flip her skirt up and slide home. To fuck her while she’s cleaning up her mess. I know because it’s exactly what I would be thinking, only I would make her use her tongue while I pound into her ass.

The brown paper towels are soaked through by the time she stands again. She balls them up in her fist, not meeting either of our eyes.

“Good girl.” Daniel smooths a hand over her hair and presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Time to go.”

I scoot out of the booth and follow the pair out the diner doors. Daniel has his arm around Mira’s waist. His hand splayed across her lower back. But her head turns over her shoulder to find me, to make sure I’m not left behind.

I give her a grin to assure her I’m still here and that seems to satisfy her as we reach Daniel’s truck.

I want her. I want to splay her across the bed, naked and flushed for hours while I find every spot that makes her giggle. Makes her moan. Makes her body bend and break. I want her hands in my hair, fisting and holding my tongue to her core and grinding her hips into my mouth while Daniel stretches her cunt. I want to take the hot cave of her pussy while Daniel stretches her ass.

I want to do things to her that will have the neighbors calling the cops.

It’s maddening because I have been with so many women I can barely remember them all, but never, not once in my life did any of them step into my path and dropkick me in the gut the way Mira did last night. I’d been expecting a little girl, someone that would mean nothing to me. My brother’s stepdaughter. Some random girl he took ownership of after her mom died. Instead, I looked up and she knocked the wind out of me.

And she hasn’t fucking stopped.

Every time our gazes lock. Every time she smiles. Every time she shares that little grin with me ... I sink deeper in this hole.

Back in my seat behind Daniel as he and Mira take the front, his hand on her naked thigh, all I can do is beg him to reach under. To stop being a little bitch and finger her before we leave. To make her cum.

It’s pissing me off because this isn’t Daniel. I’m the one who drags on the torture. I’m the one who makes them suffer and beg for release. Daniel likes watching their anguish, not causing it. So what the fuck is he doing? Even I’m dying over here.

Instead, we’re pulling away from the diner and making our way towards the grocery store like anyone gives a shit about food right now.

“How long are we staying?” Mira asks as Daniel sets a giant hand on the slope of her back and leads her to the sliding doors of Jefferson’s only grocery mart..

“Don’t know. Hopefully, not long.”

Daniel pulls a cart from the row by the door and maneuvers it deeper into the produce aisle with Mira at his side and me following quietly on her other side.

“If it’s longer than a week or two, I might need to grab a few things,” she says, drifting away to pluck up a green apple and bring it to her nose. “Maybe I can try making an apple pie.”

“Oh, you can’t use green apples, dear,” says an elderly woman over on the opposite side of the fruit bins, long fingers dropping plums into a plastic bag. “They have to be red.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense, Stacey. She can use whatever apples she likes,” says another woman further down at the green peppers.

“Green is sour, Lidia. Who wants sour pies?”

“They won’t be sour once they’re baked,” Lidia counters hotly.

“The tartness doesn’t just vanish!” Stacey huffs.

Mira places the apple down gingerly, no longer looking in the mood for pie.

“Thank you for your input,” she says kindly, but neither woman is listening or notice when Mira hurries back to Daniel.

“Making friends?” he teases her.

Mira chuckles and hooks her arm through his elbow. “You know me, one pie war at a time.”

I’m baffled by them.

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