Page 26 of Autumn's Coming

The man huffed. “You wanna quit, quit. But you won’t get your job back.”

Autumn looked at me, mouth half-open.

I nodded to her. “Let’s go.”

And I walked toward the door.

She hesitated, then followed me.

I walked her to the stage door, waiting while she went and collected her things. While she did, I called a car to take us home.

My place, of course.

* * * * *

“You deserve better than a place like that.”

We sat on my couch, drinking wine. Autumn wore her clothes from class that morning, jeans and a hoodie.

She wouldn’t look at me.

“It was paying me so much,” she murmured. “Oh, my God, I’m so stupid.”

“No, you’re not. I’m going to take care of you.”

She knocked back the rest of her wine.

“Look.” She said, frowning at me. “I barely know you. How do I know you’re not, like, a crazy murderer or something?”

I laughed. “If I were a crazy murderer, don’t you think I would have killed you already?”

She bit her lower lip, then shrugged.

“Trust me,” I said.

“I’ll try.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then what do you want?” she asked.

I leaned forward and kissed her.

She tensed for a second, then relaxed, leaning into me. Her hands rose to rest on my shoulders.

I opened my mouth, sliding my tongue between her lips. Autumn whimpered, but didn’t pull back, didn’t protest.

She rose up to her knees, throwing her arms around me.

She almost knocked me back into the couch.

I held her hips, pulling her into my lap again, like we’d done at the club.

Immediately, she started to grind on me.

I pulled back from the kiss. “Bed?”

“Bed,” she said softly.

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