“Is something wrong?”
“I was enjoying my breakfast. No offense, I don’t really want company.”
“No offense taken,” I return easily sitting up a little straighter and putting my arms on the table, leaning in so our faces are closer together. I smile as her eyes dilate.
“This means you should leave?” She says it like it’s a question and I grin.
“But, mi cielo, I am not just company.”
“You’re not?” She asks, watching as my finger moves to her roll. I twirl my finger in the glazed icing. Her forehead creases again, showing her irritation. I was right, it is cute.
“Of course not.”
“Then what are you?”
“I am your future,” I tell her honestly, bringing my finger to my mouth. My eyes lock with hers as I let my tongue slide around to lick off the creamy confection. I use just the tip of my tongue dragging it slow and teasingly along my finger, my eyes watching her the entire time before I finally suck the digit completely in my mouth, letting a moan of appreciation hum softly.
She bites into her lip and I can tell through the thin white dress she’s wearing that her breathing has picked up. She’s not immune to me and that pretty much decides her fate.
“I was eating that,” she grumbles, pushing it away. She tries to sound pissed, but in her voice I detect a note of excitement and it’s that sound that calls to the animal in me I keep hid.
“I can give you something else to eat,” I tell her and we both know I’m not talking about anything on this table. I can see the moment recognition flares in her eyes.
“Do you know who I am?” She asks, her face tilting to the side.
“Not yet, but I will.”
“Be careful what you ask for,” she says cryptically and it makes me smile. She’s a sweet little lamb baiting the big bad wolf and she doesn’t even know.
“I think I can handle anything you send my way.”
“Are you always so….”
“Asombroso?”
“Asombroso?” She repeats, slightly butchering the Spanish word with her sweet, southern accent.
My madre was Spanish. I look nothing like her or her family, with the exception of my dark hair. I am my father, the fucking bastard made over. Still, having been raised by my mother, words slip out from time to time. The woman in front of me inspires them. Spanish words are more lyrical, more soothing and that is what she reminds me of. She soothes something inside of me.
“The man of your dreams,” I paraphrase.
“I hate to rain on your parade Casanova, but I have to leave. I’m late,” she says getting up and gathering her trash in her hands. I take it from her, I’m no one’s idea of a gentleman, but I have my moments.
“And where are you off to? Is there a man I should know about?”
“A man?” She asks and then it as if a light goes off and she smiles. “And if there were?”
“I’d have to have him taken care of,” I tell her honestly. I leave it to her to wonder what that means. If I tell her that no one gets in the way of what I want? What would her reaction be?
“You’re just a tad over the top creepy, aren’t you?” She says, moving away from me. I let her go. I can see the curve of her ass sway under her dress, as I follow her out onto the street.
“Same time tomorrow mi cielo?” I ask when it becomes apparent she is intent on ignoring me. My question makes her stop and she turns around to look at me.
She studies me for a minute and those damned blue eyes are sparkling with laughter. I’d like to keep that look on her. A second later I decide I really want to know what those eyes are like when I’m slipping deep inside of her, her legs wrapped around me. I definitely want to see that look.
“Sure knock yourself out,” she shrugs and turns to walk off again.
“You better be here Dulces,” I tell her and there’s no mistaking the order in my voice.
She turns to fully face me. On the street in the middle of the day it as if we are having a show down and perhaps we are, but I’m going to win. She needs to accept it.
“And if I’m not?” She asks and I like the spunk she’s showing. A woman with fire will warm a man at night.
“I’ll come find you,” I answer deadly serious.
“You don’t even know who I am.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You could be asking for trouble.”
“I like excitement.”
She studies me for another few minutes and then, much to my surprise gives in. “I’ll be here.”
I like that she gave in, I do not like the note of sadness in her voice. I’ll have to replace that with moans of excitement. I watch her until she walks out of sight and then turn back in the direction of my bike. She’s going to be a challenge. I can’t wait.
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