Page 19 of Titus

“Nawl. It’s cool. I want to know about you, Quinn. I asked, remember?”

“Yeah but I’ll give you the abridged version. My dad’s side, the Jaxsons, are actually from Atlanta. He’s ex-army. He met my mom while he was stationed at Fort Atkins in Crescent Falls. They fell in love. The Jaxson warehouses are still in Georgia but headquarters is in CF. So, it’s my parents, my older brother, my dad’s two brothers, me, and my big ass Redmond family all there.”

“Redmond’s, like the soul food joint?”

“Yeah. That’s my great aunt and uncle’s place. Best lemonade in the world. I even tried the lemonade at the rodeo and it can’t touch my auntie’s.”

“Yeah, that shit is legit.”

He nods then eats more of his food. That tomahawk is dwindling down. Titus can eat and it all must dissolve into his muscles because there isn’t an ounce of fat on his fine body.

“I have to tell my Aunt Irene she has a new fan.”

“You do that,” he says and I don’t miss the smug look on his face. “But do I have a new fan?”

“In me, absolutely. I thought you were kind of cute when we first met but after seeing you today, your looks shot up a few notches and I became a real fan,” I tease and he grins.

“Yeah, a’ight. I’ll take that though cause I’m feeling the fuck out of you.”

“That feeling is definitely mutual.”

“But I’m wondering though.”

“Wondering what? I’m an open book.”

“Is that right? Good ’cause I am too. So why haven’t you asked me about other women? You gotta know about this lifestyle and the wo?—"

“The Buckle Bunnies?” I interject. “It didn’t cross my mind.”

“Why didn’t it?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed and curiosity clearly piqued.

“You really don’t look like the type to fuck around. Well wait, you look like the type,” I say with air quotes. “But looks can be deceiving. Once you spoke and I got to know you a little, I quickly realized you aren’t. It’s clear you have discerning tastes; you’re having dinner with me.”

“True and I really love the way you taste too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I say, cheeks flushed from blushing. “What about you? You never asked if I had a man.”

“That’s ’cause I don’t give a fuck. The minute my lips met yours, both of them, whatever and who the fuck ever you had was duct tape,” he says with finalityand damn!

I’m turned the hell on. With him, I’ve just discovered that assertive, confident cowboys are my new love language because the way I want to push this food aside and climb him is crazy. However, I opt to calm my hot ass down and just guzzle down my champagne.

“Thirsty?” he comments.

Very.

Lying, I simply say, “I’m good.”

He doesn’t buy it. While smirking, he gets back to his plate and kills that steak. I continue to enjoy my food too. We have more interesting small talk as we finish, then he moves our chairs near the bonfire so we can enjoy it. Craving to be closer to him, I bypass my chair and ease onto his lap.

“Don’t try nothing tonight,” he warns.

“Why?” I ask, disappointed. Last night was everything and I’m surely up for a repeat.

After softly kissing the side of my neck, he utters in my ear. “Tonight, I want to take my time. I plan on eating that sweet pussy until you cry then fucking you slow and hard.”

Every hair on my body stands at attention and my heart gets caught in my throat at his words. I inhale slowly, push my heart back down into my chest, then exhale.

“Then, let’s go right now,” I say, still breathless.

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