Page 47 of Bullet

Bullet

After theincident, I spent the night in eternal damnation.

Alright, so it wasn’t that bad, but even after the hottest masturbation event of my life, with Lynette watching every second, I was still hard as a steel pipe. After she fled, I kept thinking about her upstairs, wondering if she was sleeping, if she’d had to touch herself too, or die with the aching.

Now that the sun is bleeding pink and purple streaks into a lake of bruised indigo, it seems more like a die of mortification situation. I know we’re gonna have to talk about it sometime. That’s the mature thing to do. I should apologize.

Mostly for getting myself off and leaving her hanging.

I know she wants to keep things professional, and all the lines were crossed last night. It was the worst possible timing.

That said, I’ll never be able to erase the image of her striding into the room, gun extended in front of her like she meant to use it, a warrior goddess going into battle. I didn’t know whether to be ashamed or even more turned on. My dick knew, and when the fucker wouldn’t get the fuck back into my pants, and then… Lynette’s strong command.

A volley of shivers skitters up my spine and my arms break into goosebumps even now. Lynette said we wouldn’t talk about it. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. However, needs outweighwants, and I don’t feel like it’s a situation where we can avoid having it out.

Starting with an apology breakfast.

I don’t know what time Lynette and Willa will be up, but the fridge is fully stocked. I’m no cook, but I can put together bacon, eggs, and toast as well as the next guy. I even slice up some oranges, tomatoes, and avocados, and find a bottle of southwest sauce.

No one can resist the scents of freshly brewed coffee and hickory bacon for long.

Willa stumbles into the kitchen first, an oversized pink sweater falling basically to her knees, black leggings poking out from below, hair up in a messy bun. Lynette walks in a few minutes later, put together in a pair of wide leg dress pants, black heels with pointed toes, and a cherry red blouse that makes me want to react the way a bull does on seeing that color.

My dick, who I’ve been chastening all night, twitches to life immediately.

Her flawless makeup, along with her clothing, is like a shield against me. She’s powerful and impressive. She might as well have walked into this kitchen in a full suit of armor. It’s as much of a sign as I’m going to get.

Last night did not happen.

Willa digs into an orange slice, messily spraying juice halfway across the table. She slurps it up and grins at her sister. “Sit down, Linny. I know you don’t do breakfast, but you have to make an exception for this. He made bacon.”

“I realize. We’re all going to leave here with bacon scented perfume clinging to us.”

Willa laughs. “People will be hungry wherever we go.”

Lynette pours herself a mug of coffee and sits down, probably just to appease her sister. She helps herself to a single slice of light rye toast, buttering it sparingly.

“Atlas is coming around noon to take Willa over to see the college and get ready, since she starts in two days.” I got that text a few hours ago. I might as well lead with it while I flip the rest of the bacon to make sure it’s good and crispy, but not burnt.

“Which one is Atlas?” Willa asks, looking far too interested.

“The one who looks like a movie star,” Lynette mumbles grudgingly. “He’s going to be taking classes with you just to make sure you’re protected. You should probably pretend you don’t know him. Pretend all the time, Willa.”

I line a plate with a paper towel, then flip the bacon on and set it on the table. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Dippy,” Willa says.

“Preferably not at all,” Lynette snarks, sipping coffee that is so dark, it’s got to be rot gut and bitter as hell.

“She’ll take them sunny side up as well. Two, please.”

“Atlas is going through some shit,” I warn Willa as I crack eggs into a fresh frying pan. I’ll cook my own in the bacon grease, but I’m not sure that Lynette would appreciate the flavor.

“Okay, so don’t flirt with him. Got it. He’s off limits, just like everyone else in the club. No bad boys. Be a good girl. We’re hereto make friends only.” She waves a piece of bacon at Lynette, biting into it and talking with her mouth full. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

I believe that about as much as I’m a gourmet chef. I barely have any idea what I’m doing with the eggs. I flip them, and since they’re not slimy anymore, I figure that’s good enough. Willa seems happy enough. Lynette just sighs.

She sighs again when I crack five eggs into the bacon frying pan and scramble them.

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