Page 25 of Tentacles and Teeth

Chapter XI

Fenn

“Stop. Opening. The oven.” I ground the words out between clenched teeth. Normally, Sid leaves me alone when I’m in the kitchen. I like it that way. But tonight she was trying to “help”. I wasn’t sure if it was motivated by a desire to impress Katarina or just needing something to do with her nervous energy, but I honestly didn’t care. If she didn’t stop letting the steam out of the oven and getting in my way, she wouldn’t have to worry about any date.

She threw herself into a dining chair with a huff, and her leg immediately began to bounce.

With determined focus, I added mustard and honey to the balsamic I’d already seasoned. The scrape of chair legs against the tile made the muscles in my back tense, my whisk clattering against the sides of the bowl.

“You want me to wash the greens?”

“No.”

She was already reaching for them when I pinned her with a glare. Unfazed by my growl, she threw her hands up. “Come on, Fenn, I have to do something!”

I snorted. I wasn’t serving soggy, wilted greens just because she couldn’t control her emotional state. “Go get Katarina.”

“It’s not time yet.” Her tone was dangerously close to a whine.

I poured the dressing into a carafe, setting it aside and reaching for the jar of artichoke hearts as I continued to ignore my anxious roommate.

Sid grimaced, her nose wrinkling as she glared at the pale, creamy vegetables. When I didn’t comment on her obvious disapproval, she sighed dramatically and flounced out of the kitchen.

I shook my head and quartered the artichokes. Soft thuds and whispers of fabric let me know she was changing the sheets on her bed. She’d put fresh ones on yesterday, but her laundry was her problem, and I was in favor of anything that kept her out of my fur.

A few minutes later, she stepped out in a new outfit, doing a slow twirl to show it off.

“How do I look?”

I flicked a glance over her. Pale gray slacks did nice things for her figure, the color picked up by the platinum piercing in her nose and the smokey quartz plugs in her ears. A black top made of a web of four-inch-wide strips of fabric hugged her upper body, leaving about as much bare as it covered. She looked damned fine. I shrugged.

Sid rolled her eyes and turned away from me to check her reflection in the mirror by the front door. She patted her short hair, re-twisting a couple of locks to lay over her forehead. As she did so, she mused, “I think I’m going to get her flowers. Is that dumb?”

I snorted as I pulled the tray of beets from the lower oven, pleased with their deep red color and earthy aroma.

“Fuck you,” Sid replied without heat. “She likes flowers. I’m thinking lilies. Ok, I’m going.”

“Get lube,” I suggested.

“Classy, Fenn.”

I grinned as the front door closed behind her, leaving only blessed quiet. The muscles in my back unclenched slowly as I finished preparing dinner, anticipation replacing the frustration. I’d picked this meal—tender marinated steak sliced thin, served over a salad of spinach, arugula, beets, and artichoke hearts, and accompanied with a warm loaf of fragrant bread—because it was delicious and filling, but not so heavy it would be a chore to digest. I wanted Katarina to run for me.

My pants grew uncomfortable, and I adjusted my cock, hissing as the fine wool rubbed against the sensitive flesh. I wore my own version of a first date outfit, a fitted dress shirt tucked into charcoal slacks. I considered it a classic look, albeit not as dramatic as Sid’s bondage top. But the slacks did great things for my ass, the shirt was a warm caramel that I’d been told made my eyes glow, and the supple leather belt and bare feet fed my hopes for the night’s activities. The rolled-up sleeves and black apron I wore over it all were purely functional.

The beets had cooled, so I sliced them into even wedges, humming as I slipped a sliver into my mouth. After washing my hands, I pulled the bread from the oven, noting with satisfaction that it had a lovely golden crust. No thanks to Sid’s “helpful” checks.

The only thing left was to sear the steak, which I’d wait to do until—a grin spread over my face at the sound of Sid’s car. Wiping my hands on a towel to get rid of any lingering traces of flour, I strode to the door.

The vision that greeted me when I opened it stopped me in my tracks. Katarina glowed under the warm pix light illuminating the porch, Sid her shadow. “Fuck me, li’l bit. How’d you get more gorgeous?”

“You like the dress, then?” She winked, taking up a hipshot pose that made her mouthwatering curves look positively dangerous.

“The dress” was a slinky affair that draped over her body, made of some sort of shimmering champagne-colored fabric that clung to her as if it were wet. It draped over breasts that begged for my teeth and stopped a hand’s width below the delta of her thighs, leaving a mile of bare luscious legs. Above it, her hair fell in a shimmering curtain that looked so soft it took effort not to wrap it around my fist. Smoky shadows made her eyes look enormous, and the gloss on her lips begged to be eaten off, its red color mirrored in the centers of the armful of lilies she held.

“The dress. The hair. The woman,” I growled. “I need to kiss you. Tell me I can.”

Her gaze flickered, but she nodded and handed the flowers to Sid before stepping forward and raising her face to mine.

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