Page 84 of Debts and Desires
“I don’t really care what dinner is. ‘Cause what’s in that boxis for dessert,” he chuckled. “And before you say it, no, I don’t care what week it is. I’m not going that long without fuckin’ you again.”
A gag, restraints, rope, a new toy, and a waterproof blanket.
Everything on me that could flutter did as liquid hot desire pooled over me.
“You there, baby?”
“Y-yep.”
Carter chuckled again. “You go ahead and open everythin’, maybe wash what can be, so it’s safe. Then put it all in the top right drawer beside my bed.”
“O-okay.” I swallowed.
33. CHERRY PICKER
October 22
Day Fifty-Six
196 Hours to Go
Aweek ago, she told me she loved me for the first time. I knew she hadn’t meant to say it out loud, which is why I never brought it up again.
She called me by my first name, too, and honestly? Hearing it fall from her lips had me feeling strange, vulnerable. But it also felt intimate and right. It was like a secret that belonged only to us. Well, to me, since she didn’t know about it. But fuck did I want to grab her and tell her how much she meant to me. I couldn’t, though, for too many reasons.
Deep down, I knew I should’ve tried to keep my guard up longer. I knew I should’ve tried to keep my distance because deep down; I knew she would leave. Or worse, find everything out.
It was a catch twenty-two. Either I let her walk away with my black heart in her handsorshe stayed and found out every dark thing about me and left, anyway.
Emmy was watching me closely, as if trying to learn everything I was doing. I wasn’t even supposed to be in today. Wewere supposed to be home, in bed, waiting for Tyler’s phone call. But Kinsley Green had called me almost in tears, asking if I could tow her car out of a ditch. Poor girl. Emmy came with me, consoling the sixteen-year-old as best as one could. Her car surprisingly had mild damage and was still able to be driven, if her parents allowed it. And from the screaming I could hear on the other end of the phone, she’d been texting when the accident happened, I didn’t think Miss Kinsley was going to be driving again anytime soon.
That was the only thing that had really gone right. It wasn’t a good day for me car wise afterwards. I figured since I was already in the shop then, I’d get a little work done on Mister Little’s jalopy. I should’ve just taken Em back home and to bed. Because when I was changing his oil, my hand slipped, and instead of it dripping in the pan, it dripped down my arm and onto the floor. The first drops splattered up to my face. I turned my head quick enough, the oil only getting on my cheek. When I had moved out of the path, however, I jerked my head right into the car, sending a string of curses as I fixed everything.
Emmy’s eyes were wide when I slid out. Her lips were sucked in as if trying not to laugh.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Just fuckin’ peachy,” I growled, grabbing a clean rag and wiping what I could feel off my face before tackling my arm. I was so focused on cleaning myself that I bumped into the table and tray I had beside Fred Thompson’s car, sending bolts and tools every which way.
“Damn it!”
Emmy was quick to help, keeping her smiling face hidden from view. Probably a good thing.
After that, things seemed to go a little smoother, but I was still irked. Once the oil was changed for Mister Little, I decided to go ahead and work more on Fred’s truck. I still needed to fix the other issues for Mister Little, but I was still too pissed about the oil. His car always seemed to have it out for me.
My little shadow followed and watched everything I didwhile I worked. I’d been working on the truck for about an hour or so. Emmy was standing on the passenger side tire, peering in. She seemed mesmerized by the way I moved. It was a tight fit—no, the joke wasn’t lost on me—but I managed to get my hands in, using my fingers to lightly twirl the bolt in.
“Wanna see what else I can do with these fingers?” I asked. Red crept over her neck, making me bite back a smile.
“I already know what you can do with them.”
“Not everythin’.” She bit her bottom lip and looked away. I was addicted to kissing her. But if I kissed her right now, I wouldn’t be able to stop. And if I did stop, the withdrawal would distract me from work.
Truthfully, I had been distracted since we left the bed this morning. My mind wandered to the feel of her skin against mine. To the smell of her. To the sound of her breathing, the feel of her breath fanning across me as she slept peacefully on my chest. The softness of her tits pressed up against me, the feel of her legs tangled with mine. The warmth of her hand gently resting on me, holding me as if trying to keep me there. How I carefully slipped out from under her and moved her body until I was between her legs, waking her up with my tongue.
Fuck. The memory was making it difficult to think. So difficult that I hadn’t noticed her slipping away.
“What’s this for?” she asked. I looked over my shoulder.
