Page 10 of Sexploitation

“How did you find this place? I don’t think I’ve ever noticed it before.”

“After my wife...” His words trail off, and he clears his throat. “I felt a little lost. Spent a lot of time walking around aimlessly. It was like I was searching for something. Then one day, I realized I’d found it.”

“Great tacos?” I scoff, unwrapping my dinner.

“No, smartass. I found myself—figured out who I was without her.”

Goddamn him. Emotions and vulnerability usually aren’t my thing. They make me uncomfortable and give me the ick. But he manages to make me feel... well, everything. Sometimes all at once.

“Go on,” he urges, gesturing toward my untouched taco with a tip of his head. “Take a bite already.”

There’s no doubt I look ridiculous trying to stuff the damn thing in my mouth, walking down the street with a bunch of brown paper stuck in my shirt. But after that first bite, I don’t give a damn.

A moan rumbles deep in my throat as the flavors combine and burst in my mouth, my lashes fluttering closed as I savor them. They are fan-fucking-tastic. Possibly the best tacos I’ve ever had.

“If you keep making sounds like that, this date is going to take a very unexpected turn.”

I throw a wicked grin his way before taking another bite, moaning again.

“Fuck,” he growls.

“What’s the matter, Elias? Can’t handle a little moaning? Sounds like someone is sexually frustrated. I know something that would help with that.”

“Don’t test me, Peach,” he warns, his stare darkening as it locks on me.

I slowly swallow my bite, secretly jumping for joy on the inside. Elias Jackson pretends to be the pillar of control, but I’ve got his number. Round two goes to Parker.

I plant my feet before taking another bite, really making a show of it this time. He snatches my plate from my hands, tossing both our plates into the garbage bin on the corner.

“Hey,” I whine, throwing my bib away too. “I wasn’t done with that.”

All thoughts of tacos evaporate as he pulls my body into his, pressing his stiff crotch into me. “Feel that, Peach?” He pauses, waiting for me to answer. I nod my head, my tongue too dry to form words at the moment. “The way I see it, you have two options. I can pull you into the alley, taking you hard and fast right now. Or... we can finish our date then go back to your place.”

“And what happens then?” I ask, my words barely more than a whisper.

He gives me that dimple popping smile. “Then I get to savor you the same way you were that taco.”

“Option two,” I answer, hating the eagerness in my tone. “I pick option two.”

“Good choice, Peach.” My head is swimming by the time he steps back, offering me his hand. “Now, I do believe I promised you there’d be dancing. Shall we?”

Elias

Parker hesitates,contemplating her options once more. Her warring thoughts are practically sifting through her eyes. She’s wondering if she can push me past my breaking point, make me take her back to her place now—deciding whether she should try her luck or just follow this through.

I wait for her to choose, bracing myself for it either way. When she lifts her hand to join mine, a part of me is a little disappointed. I’ve been walking around with a fucking semi since she stepped outside her apartment, and those sinful as fuck sounds that were coming out of her a few seconds ago did not help.

But this is another small victory for me.

We walk the next two blocks in comfortable silence, her hand never leaving mine, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I know these streets well, walked them many nights to clear my head. It’s not lost on me that all that time searching, not knowing what for, I was steps from Parker’s front door. It’s been a long time since I’ve cared about something enough to be nervous, ages since butterflies have flapped around in my stomach like this.

Molly and I were together for twelve years. Our lives were the perfect blend of the two of us. When she passed away, I thought I’d never feel whole again. I’d been awefor so long, I’d forgotten how to bemewithout her. It took almost two years before I found joy in something that wasn’t attached to her or the life we built together.

The idea of making memories with someone new is scary as hell. But here I am, making them with Parker, sharing things with her I’ve never shared with anyone else. It’s notmytaco place anymore, it’sourtaco place. If this doesn’t work out as planned, I’m screwed.

The mellow, sensuous sound reaches my ears before the cello player comes into view. The first time I stumbled on this guy and heard him playing, I stood here listening for hours. There was something so peaceful about it. All the negative thoughts and feelings that had been consuming me melted away, leaving only a calming serenity. I’ve come back as often as possible since then.

I tip my head to Marcell, taking a hundred from my pocket and placing it in his case, then turn to Parker, both excited and terrified to see what she thinks. Her hand is pressed to her chest, her body gently swaying to the music. As if she can sense my stare, her eyes slide over to me, the softness in them making my chest ache. It’s like she’s finally letting me see her, therealParker. No pretense or hardened exteriors. She’s never looked more beautiful than she does in this moment, the glow of the moonlight in her hair, those stunning hazel orbs glistening.

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