45. Blesk
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
blesk
A week later
Earlier, Konnor stood in the corridor of my dorm building with one hand flat to his chest as if he were about to announce something serious.
"Blesk Bellamy."
I blinked at him. “What?”
He paused for dramatic effect, and I giggled. Elise poked her head around the door frame to see what he was up to this time. "Dinner. A movie. Like normal people." He paused, then said, "No basements. No prisons.”
“No weird crime museums?” Elise added.
“No weirdness at all,” he said to her and then looked back at me, those dimples on display, and that set of green eyes sparkling—and sober. “Just dinner and a movie."
“Classic,” Elise said, laughing.
I hummed, looking down at my daisy dress with the tassels. "Do we know how to do that?”
"Absolutely not." He dropped his hand and grinned. "But we are going to try, dammit.”
So, here I am.
Fancy restaurants smell like butter, smoke, and sandalwood, I swear. I’m wearing a plain white dress that does not have daisies on it—no cowboy boots or tassels in sight— sitting opposite a dimple-faced man I’m somewhat in love with and somewhat obsessed with and entirely a sucker for.
Social Blesk. Tick.
Dating Blesk. Tick.
Processing…
Most nights in his apartment.
I smooth my hands down the white tablecloth and try to take in the scenery, because I’ve never been taken to a fancy restaurant before.
Candles flicker on each table, shiny utensils catch the dim light, leather-bound menus arranged in military formation, and a very handsome server introduces himself as Sebastian.
He describes the Specials Menu with the seriousness of a herald announcing the entrance of a king, and I try not to laugh because he is so serious.
Konnor, my Konnor, is dressed in a black shirt with actual buttons, no hoodie, no sneakers.
Freshly shaven, which only highlights his dimples further.
His hair is styled and sort of spiky at the tips.
If I brush my fingers through it, I think I’ll get stuck, which doesn’t sound like a bad place to be stuck, really.
Happiness moves through me.
Sebastian has left us alone to read our menus, and I chew my lips. It's fine. It's completely fine.
“What’s wrong?”
I look up at Konnor with his spiky hair, and his smooth jawline. “You have spiky hair.”
“It’s wax. You don’t like my spiky tips?”
“I mean… I do.”
“You don’t.”
I giggle at him and lean across the table, lowering my voice. “Two kids from The District in their unnatural habitat.”
He grins. “Two kids from—”
Sebastian clears his throat, materialising suddenly beside us and cutting Konnor off.
Konnor’s brows furrow as our server looks down on me with a bright smile. His view directly down my dress is unavoidable, and I catch his pupils dilate, then bounce to my forehead for safety.
Konnor’s hand inches towards his fork.
“Drinks?” Sebastian asks, voice rough, and oddly deep for someone named Sebastian.
I blush. “Sparkling water, please.”
Sebastian grins at me. "Excellent choice."
Konnor's jaw tightens. "I'll have sparkling water, too.”
"Certainly," Sebastian says, already moving away from the table, heading towards the bar.
"Excellent choice," Konnor parrots under his breath. "Excellent. Choice. Of water."
I laugh too loudly, then lean across the table towards him. "Konnor. Stop it.”
He leans in, too. "I'm just saying. It's sparkling water. We both ordered water. He didn't tell me my water was an excellent choice."
Oh, my God. I cover my smile and shake my head. "Your water is an excellent choice, baby.” It’s not bourbon—I know it’s hard for him to people without bourbon.
"Thank you." He sits higher and straightens his cutlery. "See, was that so hard?"
Sebastian returns with the sparkling water, sets it down, and finds my eyes before he goes.
Konnor lifts his menu, holding it slightly higher than necessary so I can’t see his eyes. "Can I ask you something?" he says from behind the it.
I try not to giggle. "Yes.”
He drops the menu and leans across the table again, and we must look like teenagers pretending to be adults. "If I asked Sebastian here to describe my water again, do you think he'd do it with some enthusiasm?”
"Konnor, he's just doing his job."
"He's doing his job for you specifically."
"That doesn't make sense."
Amusement and severity move through his green eyes. "I want you to know I'm being extremely mature about this. Not a fucking psycho at all."
"You're doing beautifully."
"Thank you." His eyes drop to my breasts, and he groans, curling his fingers into a fist on the table as if they need to be entertained so he doesn’t grope me in this fancy, normal restaurant. "You look incredible, by the way. Sebastian can't take his eyes off your tits."
"Should we have him describe them with enthusiasm?"
"I'll fucking blind him.”
Straight-faced, I reach across the table and confiscate his cutlery, setting them beside mine.
He laughs. "Should have said that when I picked you up, but I was distracted by how incredible you look. Seriously, incredible. I need to… process how incredible you—”
“Are you ready to order your meals?”
“Good God, man.” Konnor slumps back in his chair at the second interruption and crosses his arms over his chest, large biceps straining in his nice black shirt.
“I’m ready!” I chirp quickly, glaring at Konnor to remind him where we are. I wrap my hand around my water glass. “I’ll have the gnocchi with the creamy sauce.”
“Excellent choice,” Konnor announces loudly, and I try not to spit out my water.
Sebastian lifts a brow. "And for you, sir?"
Konnor grins up at him with the full force of both dimples. "I'll have whatever she's having, because I have excellent taste."
Sebastian's smile twitches, one brow moving for a second with confusion, before he schools his expression and tucks his stylus into his pocket. He lifts both menus from the table in a single, efficient move and turns on his heel.
Konnor watches him go. "I'm not threatened.”
"I can see that.”
"I just want to be clear."
"Crystal."
"Good." He reaches across the white tablecloth and takes my hand. His eyes drop to my cleavage, holding there, sweeping over my skin in a possessive way. "You're mine, Duch. I don’t have to look away.”
"I know."
"Just making sure Sebastian knows."
"Sebastian has gone to the kitchen."
"Fine. I’ll eye-fuck you again when he gets back." He squeezes my hand. "I can stop being mature, and if he looks at your tits again in front of me, I'll will blind him."
I touch his cutlery beside mine. "With what?"
"Pepper,” he says without looking at the pepper shaker, seemingly already planned for this moment the second I took away his knife and fork.
Konnor Slater.
You gorgeous psycho.
“Fucking psycho,” I murmur.
He grins, wide and cheeky, melting me with those two dimples. As if any girl would want another man when this one is obsessed with them.
While we eat, we talk.
I try to keep the topics on Elise, on Jax's ongoing and unconvincing campaign to pretend he isn’t into her, a book I'm reading, a song I've been working on, and—
My leg bounces under the table. “So… I spoke to my dad again.” I set my fork down. Konnor knows I spoke to Dad a few days ago and it didn’t go well. Dad couldn’t speak, couldn’t find words. My eyes sweep the lovely restaurant, then settle back on Konnor. “He called me. We spoke for an hour.”
Konnor props his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together at his chin. “And?”
“And he said he was sorry.”
“Sorry like… That it happened or that he can’t choose you or… What kind of sorry? There are a lot of sorrys.”
“Sorry like… He blames himself.”
“Fuck.” Konnor frowns at his empty plate. “Should we add visit your dad to the fucked-up bucket list?”
“Hm…” I nod. “Yeah, I think so.”
Konnor smiles at me, then his eyes slice across the air to something standing behind me, in the distance. When I twist, following his gaze, Sebastian is talking to another man at the bar who casts me long glances.
The maturity leaves the table. Konnor rises to his feet and circles me, pulling my chair out without a word, his presence rippling with possessiveness.
I stand. “What are you doing?”
Taking hold of my hand, he walks me towards the restrooms, forcing me to skip to keep up with him.
“Claiming what’s mine.” He pushes open the door to the restroom. There is only one—large, tiled, clean, fancy, with a wooden vanity that Konnor is already lifting me onto. “I need your taste on my lips, or I’ll order a bourbon.”
I gasp as he drops to his knees and pushes my dress up to my waist in a frenzy.
I try to keep up. “That’s—” My knickers come down to my ankles. “Black—” His lips find my pussy. “Mail.” I moan, long and hard, spreading my legs for him, feeding my fingers through his spiky hair, holding on tight as he licks me in a way that isn’t about me at all, but a wild desire to claim.
Eyes losing focus to his wicked tongue, I gaze at the bathroom door. Check the lock. My heart races that someone will knock. Kick us out. That we will have to do a walk of shame through the restaurant, me blushing, Konnor smirking with my pussy juices on his lips.
He throws one of my legs over his shoulder and slides two fingers inside me, while his tongue goes wild.
The fingers, they are for me. The tongue, for Sebastian.
I let my eyes fall shut, feeling his desire for me.
His lust. Not a secret. Not hidden. So obvious and carnal.
He is groaning and growling through me, fingers curling and moving and knowing and—
Precise.
Fuck.
So precise.
There.
There.
My legs twitch.
"This is what you want, right?"
"Y-yes."
He feeds a hand under my backside, and at this angle...
Oh. Oh.
"You're mine." He squeezes my arse. "This pussy is mine. From now on, I wear you on my lips whenever we go out."
"Yes."
His fingers thrust in and out of me, making wet sounds that fill me with shame before I can stop it. I bite it back.
"Little whore.”
I moan. “Mm hm.”
He twists his fingers so he can use the rough pad of his palm against my clit. His tongue is in every gap, messy and enjoying the way I drip over his hand and fingers and down my inner thigh. My pussy tightens, my hips circling. He fingers me with demand, building my need, until—
I can’t breathe through the pleasure, my entire body quivering as his long fingers slide in and out of me. I'm buzzing there. Twitching everywhere.
I cry out, squeezing his spiky hair with my fingers, legs spasming, pussy clenching around his penetration, abdomen tightening rhythmically as I come apart.
Mortified but not at all regretful, I hide my face behind my hair as we leave the restroom. Konnor is sucking his fingers as he approaches Sebastian at the bar.
“Keep the change.” Tucking two hundred dollars into Sebastian’s top pocket, he says, “Konnor: One. Sebastian: Zero.”
Ugh. I pretend I hate it, but I think… I don’t? I grab his hand and drag him from the restaurant, cheeks on fire from my orgasm, and blazing with embarrassment that the old couple sitting at the closest table to the lavatory definitely heard.
Their eyes follow us.
Underneath the fun and awkwardness of dinner, the whole time is a quiet hum of realisation that this… dinner and a movie, normal, isn’t really us. Not now. Not yet.
Neither of us says that out loud until we're outside the cinema and Konnor is looking at a banner for the film we're about to see and says, completely deadpan, "I don't want to watch this."
I exhale hard. "I don't either.”
"We tried," he says.
"We really tried."
So here we are, standing outside the cinema for a moment in the evening air, not watching a movie, having had dinner, nearly murdered a server, and something settles between us that feels a lot like acceptance.
"So…" He blows out a breath, inflating his cheeks. "Fucked-up bucket list?"
I blink at him. "You want to add something else?"
He's quiet for a moment. “I think…” His eyes shift to me. “Maybe we should take the elevator?”
My eyes widen. “We?” Turning to face him, I point between us. “Like we. Like you, too.”
“That is the definition of we. You and me.”
“You aren’t my English teacher, Mr Slater.”
THE END