Page 28 of Submit
“My girls.” I say quietly, closing my eyes again and drifting off to the rumbling sound of the dual engines of the plane.
~~~
The thick, hot air of Miami blasts me in the face as the door swings open and the stairs unfold onto the tarmac. I can ear the Cuban music from the restaurant across the freeway, and smell the aromas of pulled pork, fried plantains, roasted chicken, and sauerkraut, and it immediately makes me hungry.
“A little bite to eat before we go to the hotel baby?” I ask Millie as she steps up behind me, covering her dark eyebrows with her hand to protect her eyes from the midday sun.
“I could eat.” She says right as her stomach grumbles in protest from not consuming much before we got on the flight.
She could have eaten something on the plane, but I didn’t see any open packages when I awoke, so the poor thing must be famished.
“Good. Let me feed you, then we’ll go to the hotel, and if you’re a good girl, I’ll take you shopping. You need something other than my clothes to wear baby. Even though they look great on you.”
“Shopping? Really?” She asks with an honest enthusiasm, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down on the steps, following me down like a lost little puppy.
“Yes, shopping. Every woman’s favorite past time.” I chuckle, grabbing her in my arms and lifting her up, kissing her fiercely for a moment as the town car pulls up on the runway.
“I haven’t been shopping in…” Her face falls and she looks away, just like in the shower.
“Hey. Don’t think about it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now let’s go. We have food to eat and clothes to buy.” I say, ushering her into the waiting black car and climbing in behind her, pinching her ass in the process, making her squeal, and hopefully forget the last few months with her sadist.
“Adrian!”
“Yes, bunny?” I laugh, pulling her into my lap in the backseat, adjusting my seatbelt around both of us, knocking on the driver’s seat to tell him we’re good to go.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I am.”
~~~
“It’s called Pernil.” I say, bringing the forkful of shredded pork and rice to her lips. “The rice is soaked in the juices from the meat, and it’s delicious.”
“Oh my God.” Millie moans, taking the bite and chewing it slowly, holding her hand in front of her mouth so I don’t see her talk while she chews. “That is divine.”
The music around us in the small family-owned restaurant is vibrant and cheery, with a few locals dancing in the front of the room to something that sounds like a traditional salsa. It’s unlike anything up north, with smiling faces, and people enjoying themselves. It’s the complete opposite of most of New York City, and I love it. I almost feel overdressed and out of place in my long khaki slacks and short sleeve button down shirt, and I’m sure Millie feels odd too, in my sweats and tee.
I can see her watching the dancers with a restrained excitement, almost like she’s never seen something so carefree. Longing washes over her face, and I make a mental note that once we have some nice things for her, and before we go back to the city, I need to take her out dancing.
The food goes quickly, with both of us alternating bites from the same fork. The pork, rice, potatoes, and carrots disappear, and the empty plate is replaced by a dessert one with a single, yet large, senorita slice.
“What’s this?”
“This is a senorita, bunny. It’s flaky pastry with a custard inside the layers and chocolate icing.”
“It looks like an éclair.” She says, poking it with the tines of her fork.
“Kind of, but less donut and more puff pastry like.”
“Ooohhh.”
It’s beautiful watching her take a little bit on her fork and put it in her mouth. The way her eyes roll back in her head and her lips wrap around the utensil is sexy as fuck, and the little moan that vibrates from her has me adjusting myself in my pants.
“Good?”
