Page 27 of Loving Leo

“Oh god,” I moan. An older man. An age gap. He’s the sexiest thing on two legs around.

“It’s not that old,” he says, taking my moan of pleasure as a moan of disgust. I can assure you, it was not disgust. Not at all.

“Oh that’s not that old. I wasn’t moaning because of that.”

I quickly take a sip of my hot chocolate and nearly choke on it. Damn thing. Why do I say this shit. It’s a wonder I’m alive to tell thetales. In fact, I’m amazed I haven’t embarrassed myself to literal death.

“Why were you moaning then?”

“Just you know, stubbed my toe. I’m twenty two.” I waggle my eyebrows at him and he cocks his head.

“You have whipped cream on your lip.”

I lick it off and he shifts in his seat.

“Anyways. Twenty two. Thirty five. Fourteen year difference.”

“Thirteen actually.”

I snort and take another sip of my drink. “I knew that.”

“Sure you did.”

We stare at each other, the two of us sipping at our drinks, chattering and clacking keys surrounding us.

“So what’s your favorite color?” I ask.

His brows meet. “I don’t know. I never thought of that. What’s yours?”

“Oh, I love the color green and blue. Maybe turquoise?”

He lets a small smile pull his lips up. “That’s a good color.”

“It is,” I say and then smile back. God, I hope I don’t have chocolate on my teeth. The whipped cream was bad enough.

“Any other asinine questions?”

I roll my eyes at him. “They’re not asinine! They’re important questions.”

“For who?”

“For me.”

His lips wobble a little more and he shrugs. “Alright. What’s your favorite number?”

“Three. I sure do love getting railed in both ends.”

His eyes widen, his cheeks flushing and I fucking hate that I blurted that out.

“What about you?” I scramble to ask, hoping to cover up my faux pas.

“I guess I like the number 69.”

The way he says it, so deadpan, I can’t help but laugh out loud.

“Are you serious?”

“Its a very versatile…number.”

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