Captive Ride(4)

“Did you share?”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“Did you share?” I repeat dissatisfied with her non answer and not super happy she might have ate off of the same plate as Lemonhead.

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, I didn’t.” She looks down her nose, trying to shove me into whatever safe space she's carved out in her mind for me.

I sit back satisfied. “This is a dark booth.”

The whole place is dark and the u-shaped booths gives a lot of privacy. I would've come in a lot earlier had I known how dimly lit this joint was. I could sit Amy on my lap and fuck her and maybe only the bartender would know. Right now he's on the other end of the restaurant.

“All of the booths are dark here. It’s designed to be intimate.” She fiddles with her knife and then her fork. Amy's nervous and I've got an inkling why. Even in the dim lighting, her cheeks have a rosy flush to them.

“It’s a lunch place. Why do you want to be intimate?" I drop my hand into her dark brown hair and tug.

“I was on a date.” She tilts her head back, exposing a nice long column. Amy's like a piece of fine china, all nice skin and delicate bones but she's tough. Life kicked her in the teeth a few times but she picked herself up and forged forward.

She'll make a hell of an old lady.

“At lunch time?” I feign disbelief. I knew exactly what this was.

“Yes.”

“Do you take the afternoon off and go home for sex?” I needle her. I want to see that flush spread.

“Not every date ends in sex, Flint.” Her yellow button-down shirt is fastened so high all I can see is the start of the gold chain of her necklace. This is a good look for Lemonhead, but not for me. I want to see more of her—all of her.

“Then maybe you’re doing it wrong.”

“Dating is not a precursor to sex. That implies that I can be bought with a meal besides,” she gives me a hard once over. “When is the last time you had a date? I thought you just availed yourself of the women who hung out at your club.”

“Sweet butts?” I grin at her.

"That's a revolting name, Flint.” She shakes her head and gives me a scolding look.

She might come off as prissy now and again, but she’s not. Not with the books she reads and the toys she has stashed in her bedside table. I can see how she wouldn’t want to take a chance on one of these suits though. They’d probably run screaming if they had a peek inside her fantasies.

“Maybe but it's accurate. They have sweet asses.” There’s no shortage of prime pussy around the Death Lord’s clubhouse in Fortune, a small town about fifty minutes away from the western border of Minneapolis, but the sweet butts started losing their appeal about the time I stopped watching Amy for the club and started watching her for me.

“Is that what you like?”

“I like sweet and tart.” I lean close to her ear. “And tangy.”

Just like how I think your pussy will taste.

“Why are you flirting with me?” She looks me straight in the eye. “You’ve been watching me for years but this is the first time you’ve said more than a few words to me. At first I understood why. I’ve never liked it but I understood. Judge wanted to make sure I was the right choice to help his son out of a mess but you’ve kept tabs on me all these years and for what?” She raises her hands, palms up. “And now that I’ve started dating again after a long dry patch you’re cock blocking me. What gives?”

Cock blocking? How about claiming what’s mine?

“You know why. I’ve been waiting for you to give me the go ahead but you took too long. Times up.”

My right hand—the one closest to her—lands on her thigh. She flinches but doesn’t move away.

“Here’s your stone IPA sir.” The waitress sets the glass in front of me. “Your food will be here shortly.”

“Thanks.” I pick it up and take a deep gulp with my free hand. My right pushes the hem of Amy’s skirt even higher. When the waitress leaves, I set the glass back on the table and turn to Amy. “You think suit man has any idea how to use that tie for anything but choking himself?”

“I haven’t had the opportunity to find out.” She points discreetly to the front door. “You chased away my lunch date.”

“You mean you haven’t made the opportunity.” The skirt is tight but I force it higher. She shifts and the material moves upward.

“I’m very busy. And it really isn’t any of your business.” But even as the denial falls from her cherry colored lips, I can see the flush deepening. The tips of my fingers dance against the lace edge panties.