Page 109 of Taste of Addiction

“If you aren’t going to eat, then you might as well let me enjoy dinner and a show.”

“I’ll eat,” I surrender.

“Good.”

I stick my tongue out at him before sliding a bite of mashed potatoes between my lips and sucking longer than necessary on the fork, all while batting my eyelashes. Yup, that is a big mistake. I can tell as much right in the moment as Graham’s eyes turn to the dark shade of blue. He then picks up the metal paperweight and smiles into it—as if he is admiring himself in the mirror. Ugh. Pretty sure my butthole clenched and muttered “No, thank you.” And that thing is going to be cold. I just know it.

The waiter refills my beverage glass, this time with water. Apparently he wants me super hydrated for the circus as well.

“Quit scandalizing me,” I warn.

“Or what?”

I shrug. “You may be using your butt toy on your own tonight. Pretty sure assholes are universal and do not discriminate from intruders.”

He bursts out laughing, takes a sip of his drink, and then wipes the excess from his lips with his napkin. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Apparently get something lost inside my butt and have to take me to the emergency room and then, well, that will be a huge ordeal and the entire medical staff will have something to talk about for years to come. I’ll become some legend and will have a secret nickname there that no one tells me about—but obviously will be referred to behind my back. Lost Buttplug Girl or Ass Abyss or something equally horrifying.”

His eyes twinkle with mirth. “You have been watching too much porn.”

I choke on a bite of chicken and reach for my glass to only be reminded of the fact that it is just water. “Sounds like horrible porn!”

“Pretty sure all porn is horrible. And trust me, I have seen”—he makes an exaggerated face—“a lot.”

“Ew.”

“No use for the fake stuff anymore. I now have my own personal Porn Princess.”

“Wow. You didn’t think that one through very well in your head. That still sounds horrible. Like I’m a sex doll.”

“At least dolls argue less.”

We laugh until we are in tears. This is what we do. We are huge weirdos.

“You excited to hang out tomorrow night for poker with your friends?”

“No.”

“No?” I press.

“I’m going to probably lose some money because my focus will be on you and what trouble my men are going to have to endure. Hopefully none get fired or hand in their resignation the next day.”

“No need to worry your pretty head over me. I am basically an angel most days.”

“But your best friend has an awful habit of getting you involved in her crazy need for drama. She is a magnet for it.”

I nod. “Yeah, we do usually end up passed out drunk in an alley, taking rides with guys who are not actually taxi drivers, or searching for the shadiest tattoo parlor that is open at three in the morning. Just another Friday night in the slums of Portland.”

His face darkens and a growl vibrates through his throat.

“Teasing, Graham. Thought that was obvious.”

“You do not have a good track record to even joke around right now. Literally every time you guys go out, something horrible happens. So, appreciate the fact that I’m allowing you this opportunity, despite my better judgment.”

“Oh wow. Guess you have no idea how chauvinistic you sound right now.”

“Guess you missed the part where I care about few things more than I care about your safety.”

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