Page 12 of Suck

He strikes me as a man who rarely cooks for himself, so I assume the extravagant brunch is for me. Stupid emotion wells in my throat. Even on my birthday my own mom gave me cold cereal for breakfast and she supposedly loves me. This man—this perplexing mix of danger and generous masculinity—slides the glass over to me with a wink. Before I can even respond with my thanks, he flips open the lid to a carton of eggs and expertly cracks the shells against the side of a red ribbed bowl.

“Why were so anxious for me to fuck you last night?”

Okay, I thought yesterday I was humiliated. This morning is the epitome of embarrassment. I take a long sip of my drink I didn’t realize I needed so much, welcoming the obviously gourmet liquid flooding through my parched mouth.

“I mean, I wanted—I want you—just as much. But for your first time I thought you might be nervous or need more time and attention to get you wet before I stuffed you full of my cock.”

Strange how his filthy words couldn’t be more sweet. He’s trying hard to be kind despite how straight forward he is. Which surprisingly, I really appreciate and respect after a lifetime of dancing around the truth.

“I mean for someone nicknamed The Mouse, you seemed to know exactly what you wanted. And believe me angel, you trying to take charge of my dick was hot as fuck.”

Still dirty and yet in a weird way one of the best compliments I’ve ever received.

“So tell me, Macy, why did you want me to hurry up and fuck you?”

Lies and excuses bubble into my mouth. Yet I can’t bring myself to utter them. Not with him. Not after he’s been so forthright and honest and patient. He waits while I hesitate, chopping with a diligence the vegetables don’t need, but decide for the first time in a long time to go with candor that matches his. “I didn’t want to give you the chance to change your mind.”

“Oh doll, that was never going to happen.”

Despite my raging blush, I chance a glance at him and his smile is as erotic as it is genuine, making me flush all over again from his certainty.

“Or was it that you didn’t want to change yours?”

Finally I can find my voice because I refuse to let him think anything but the truth. “No, I wanted you too.”

Well, I sound kind of confident. My words fade at the end. Regardless of how strong I want to be, I’m still shy. Still an introvert. Still cautious. Especially with this man who intrigues me as much as he overwhelms me.

“There’s more to it than that though.”

Although I want to be like him. Conviction fills his tone. Not a question. He knows but wants me to admit what I’m holding back. I stall, watching as he scoops up the tiny pieces I diced from the wooden tray and sprinkles them across the yellow and white liquid pooled in his pan. Hypnotized by the preciseness of the hands that were so perfect last night too. I take another long sip from my tumbler and keep my gaze on the rim as I answer. “I was worried we’d run out of time if Antonio came here looking for me. If I had to go back to him, I didn’t want him to be my first. I didn’t want to give him something that special.”

The spatula slams down on the speckled surface, and I can’t stop myself from jumping at the fury rolling off of him as he stalks around the cook top to me. Despite the rage my words seem to flame in him, his touch is measured. Direct and forceful yet not frightening. He spins me around on my stool and puts a fist on each side of the black and silver granite and I can’t move. A delicious thrill heats through me at the realization I don’t want to move. I don’t want to be anywhere except trapped by him. “You wanted to give me something that special.”

Again, not a question. For either of us. I nod, too strangled to speak with him so close. With the hunger in his eyes and the heat radiating off his body. Engulfed by the devil and I like it more than I thought possible.

“Thank you angel.”

Warm sweet breath blows strands of my damp hair as he dips down invading my space in a way that makes my pulse stop all together. Especially when his fingers curl around my arms in the same place his marks remain and he lifts my butt off the cushion.

“And for the record, you will never go back to Antonio. You’re mine now, remember?”

I remember him saying it but I don’t remember believing it or him. “I thought you were just caught up in the moment. That you just...”

The intensity of his searing gaze steals the remainder of my belief that I now realize is wrong. He means what he says. He means everything he says if his reputation and the look pinning me in place is any indication. “Mine.”

Definitely no ambiguity from the single word proclamation. I swallow down my heart clawing up to my throat with emotion I shouldn’t allow myself to feel but can’t seem to stop myself. “Yes.”

He kisses my forehead in approval of my whispered assent before he sits me down and swiftly strides back to the stove just in time to flip the omelet before the edges burn. I’m not sure if I can eat. No room for food with the butterflies swirling in endless rotations.

I don’t know how he can be so calm while I’m turning into an insane pool of need just from the brief touch of his hands and lips in the most innocent of places. He seems unaffected, cheerful even as he pokes at the bacon, spitting and sizzling, with a bronze fork. Which is totally unnerving for a vicious mobster. He’s been full of surprises since I’ve met him, and his tenderness toward me has been the most shocking. Not that I’m complaining. I can’t stop staring either. The graceful movements of his massive hands as he plates our breakfast reminds me once again that what we hear and see isn’t always what we know.

“Come.”

Like a puppy desperate for attention almost as much as treats, I obey him. Grabbing my drink and scurrying to follow him back outside to the stone and black wrought iron table and taking the empty chair across from him. A scowl conveys his disapproval without any comment other than his gaze flicking to the seat next to him. Instead of standing up for myself, I meekly slide onto the tan cushion and earn another dazzling smile. Maybe being a little submissive is worth the reward.

“So what now?”

Small talk is definitely not his strong suit. “We eat?”

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