Page 32 of Sapphires and Snakes
“Not the other stuff?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Too much work.”
She chuckles and presses a kiss to my temple. “When did she die?”
“I was twelve.” I pour the filling onto the waiting crusts.
Tamayo rests her hands on my hips and her chin on my shoulder. “Your mother doesn’t seem like the type to carry that tradition.”
“You’d be right.” I spoon the last of the bowl into the third crust. Tamayo watches as I fold the edges of the crust over on each pie and then brush them with egg wash. It’s domestic, like we’re cooking together on a Tuesday after a long day at the office. Except the office is gun smuggling and drug running and money laundering. And a long day includes more violence and cleanup than expected.
I set the pastry brush and bowl in the sink, and before I can do it myself, Tamayo’s touch is gone and she’s loading the baking sheets into the preheated oven. And now, I’m the one leaning against the prep table with my arms crossed and admiring her. Definitely played myself with that outfit.
She closes the oven and grabs the magnetic timer off the fridge. “How long?”
“Twenty-eight minutes.”
She glances up like she heard something in my voice and frowns at me. “Princess. Are you checking me out right now?”
“Me? Checkingyouout?” I press a hand to my chest and gape in mock insult. “Absolutely not.”
Tamayo hangs the timer back on the fridge, the numbers counting down, and stalks across the large kitchen. Normally, she’d be in dark colors with clean lines and quiet power, and I’d feel the full force of it wash over me with the focus of her attention. But today, she’s touchable.
She rests her hands on either side of me, and I drag mine up her chest and around her neck. My fingers play with her hair. “Thanks for helping me.”
“No problem.” Her thumbs brush over the waistband of my skirt, my sweater tucked in and secured by a belt. She presses forward until our hips are flush, her leg between mine and forcing my knee to poke out of the slit of my skirt to accommodate. I stare into her eyes, linger on the mole that lives under the left. She stares back at me so intensely, it feels as if the brown of her irises widen larger and rounder, ready to devour me. We haven’t moved, are hardly touching, and yet my breath is already short.
“Twenty-eight minutes,” she murmurs, her voice low. “What could we do in twenty-eight minutes?”
I drop my fingers under the collar of her shirt and scratch back up to her scalp. “Whatever could you mean?” I tease.
She grins wolfishly. “I love it when you play innocent.”
“Why’s that?” My voice is more breath than sound, my chin lifting to wait less than an inch from her lips.
Tamayo doesn’t take the bait. Instead, her hand slips off the table, away from my hips, to lift my knee out of the slit. “It makes me the rogue, come to steal the princess’s virtue.”
“You can’t steal what was never there.”
She pouts, honest-to-godpouts, and I almost laugh with how out of place it looks on her face. “Don’t ruin my fun.”
I do laugh then. Head thrown back and sound spilling out loud enough to bounce off the walls. I shake my head, catching her smile so big that her eyes nearly disappear with the force of it. “Fine,” I concede. “Corrupt me, rogue.”
“With pleasure.” She’s still smiling with all her teeth when she kisses me, hooking my leg around her waist and pulling me as close as possible. I dig my nails into the knobs of her spine as she slides her hand up my thigh. I had tights on earlier, but Tamayo requested I take them off before we left.
Apparently, she had the intention of sliding her hand under my panties to grip my ass all along. I slip my tongue into her mouth to trace the edges of her own. She claws at my sweater to pull it out from where it’s tucked, allowing her access to the skin underneath.
“For fuck’s sake,” a voice sighs.
My leg drops from Tamayo’s waist, her hand from my ass, and we both pull back from the kiss to find the interrupter at the door.
Rita covers her eyes, her head shaking. “This is a family function. Do you two have no shame?”
“Nope.” Tamayo brushes my hair back from my face and strokes once across the skin of my ribs before extracting her other hand. She turns to face Rita, her torso hiding mine. “What’s up?”
Rita scoffs. “‘What’s up?’ she asks. Totally normal, like I didn’t just interrupt god knows what.”
I straighten, tucking my sweater back into my skirt and belt. My panties are wet, the feeling uncomfortable and annoying without an accompanying orgasm to make it worthwhile.
