Mister Moneybags(16)
“Wot.”
“What are we eating?” I clarified.
“Not what. Wot. That’s the answer for what we’re getting. Wot. It’s a mixture of meat, sauce and spices, like an aromatic stew. And there’s this bread called injera that you use to scoop the food up with. You’ll love it. You like spicy food?”
“I do.”
After we ordered, I got antsy to be closer to her. So, I moved to the other side of the table.
Her tone was playful. “What are you doing?”
“I’d prefer to sit next to you. Is that okay?”
“Yes. It’s more than okay.”
When I placed my hand around her wrist, she looked down at my Rolex.
Her eyes widened. “That’s a ten-thousand dollar watch. Does your bike messenger service do that well?”
It was twenty–thousand, actually.
Shit.
“We have good months. I reward myself sometimes.”
“Nothing wrong with that. People who don’t live in excess can really splurge and appreciate nice things once in a while.”
Right.
She continued, “Speaking of nice things…I didn’t see that you brought anything that you whittled for me.”
“Don’t worry. It’s in the glove compartment of my car. I didn’t want to press my luck in presenting it to you right off the bat.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing what you made.”
I rubbed my thumb along her hand. “I’m looking forward to what comes after.”
Our eyes locked. God, she was beautiful, and it took everything in me not to lean in and taste those plump lips.
The waitress came and interrupted our moment, placing a large oval dish in the middle of the table. It was an array of brown and orange-looking sauces with meats and vegetables. Pieces of thin bread were rolled up around the edges of the plate.
“You’re gonna have to show me how to eat this.”
“Well, we basically use the bread to scoop it up. I’ve read that it’s customary in the Ethiopian culture to feed each other, actually.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You gonna feed me?”
“If you want.”
I liked the idea of this.
Feed me now.
I’ll eat you later.
“I would love nothing more.”
She unraveled the bread with her delicate fingers before scooping out some of the mixture. She then rolled it and gently brought it into my mouth. I made sure to touch my tongue against her hand as she did it.
She fed me repeatedly, and I eagerly awaited each and every bite. It was sensual and intimate, and there wasn’t anything else in the world I would rather have been doing.
“Your turn to feed me,” she said.
As I attempted to repeat Bianca’s perfect feeding process, I managed to get some of the spicy sauce into the small wounds on my fingers.
“Ouch,” I groaned.
“Are you okay?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. “Yeah. I have a couple of cuts on my hand. The spices sting. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I’m sorry. How did you cut yourself?”
Well, this was one opportunity to actually tell the truth.
“Whittling.”
“I didn’t realize it was that dangerous.”
“Yeah. It’s serious business.”
I tried again, scooping up some of the wot into the bread and then rolling it. When I placed it into her mouth, I let my fingers linger over her lower lip as she chewed.
“Mmm,” she said. “This is so good, right?”
“So, so good,” I muttered, watching the movement of her lips and yearning to lick the remnants of sauce off of them. “What other cultures don’t use forks?”
“I don’t know of any offhand. Why?”
“Because I’m thinking this could be like our thing.”
“Yeah? We already have a thing? So soon?”
“Why not?”
The next time I fed her, I did a sloppy job. Some of the food spilled onto her chin.
“This may not be your forte, Jay Reed.”
I couldn’t help myself when I said, “Cleaning it up is.” I leaned in and licked it slowly off her chin. When she closed her eyes and let out a little sigh, I took that as a sign that she wanted more.
Fuck the goat.
I realized that it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I was supposed to wait to get my whittling prize, but I just couldn’t help it. Placing my mouth over hers, I full-on kissed her.
My hand was wrapped around the back of her neck as she moaned into my mouth while I devoured her harder, flicking my tongue around the inside of her mouth, desperate to taste nothing anymore but her.
When a waiter came by to pour water into our glasses, she pulled back. Her face was flush, and she seemed embarrassed. I, on the other hand, couldn’t have given a shit who’d witnessed our PDA.