Page 158 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

I don’t want to lose her. We’ve only just started. I had no reason to adore her as much as I did, but I could already tell I was extremely invested in our dynamic.

We are both crazy for doing this. We should go home, rest, talk more, and revisit this in a few weeks.

But we had to do it. She was honest with me, telling me she needed regular pain sessions to maintain her mental health, and if I couldn’t trust her to use her safeword if she needed to, I couldn’t meet that need.

I could see the commitment to our scene in Alice’s eyes, and her effort to stay in the moment with me. But I could also see the raw terror fighting its way to the surface. When she released herself to my trust, whispering her safeword as softly as she could bare to say it, she winced and held her breath. She believed, for that split second, that I would laugh in her face instead of care for her.

I took so much pride and comfort in bringing her back down, in holding her against my chest as she screamed herself out. It felt like she was evicting the memories from her mind through her throat. After our conversation with Becca and Simon, seeing her slowly come back to her adorable, chatty, and slightly goofy self, I felt a little euphoric.

We did it. We are going to be okay.

She was soft and a little drowsy on our way home, and I picked up the tacos she asked for from the food truck. She waved at the guy in the truck and rolled the window down and said, “Hola Señor Velasquez!”

“Hola Señorita!”

“What tacos do you want, little bug?” I asked her.

“One of each.”

“One ofeach? How are you going to fit eight tacos in that tiny little body?”

She turned to me with a sly look in her eye and said, “You’d be amazed what I can fit.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

I shook my head at her and looked at Señor Velasquez, who was trying not to laugh. The man beside him did not win that battle and turned away and threw some tortillas on the grill.

I ordered a bunch of tacos for us to share, and Alice and the men in the truck chatted in a weird combination of half English, half Spanish, while they prepared our food.

“Extra sauce for you, Señorita!” said the other guy, and put a few extra small plastic containers of cilantro sauce in the bag. She grinned and raised her shoulder in a flirty way.

“You guys are buddies, then?” I asked when I got back in the car.

“Alvin and Pedro are part of the local cartel,” she said offhand. “We met through work.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah... I may have slept with a few of them.”

“A few?”

“Uh... five.”

“Five?”

“It was a long weekend.”

“You little slut.”

“You love it. Give me one of those carnitas.”

“You are not eating in my car.”

Back at home, we demolished the tacos, and then sat on the couch and watched Rapunzel while she put away a half pint of strawberry ice cream. I brushed her hair and massaged her shoulders while she watched, and she eventually stripped down so she was naked while she sat in my arms.

“Will you tie me up again,” she whispered during a particularly emotional scene.

“Of course, little bug. What color do you want?”

“Umm black, I think.”

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