Chapter 17
“ I s our next destination a secret, too?” Andrea asks as we step out of Ms. Akira’s building.
“Yes. It isn’t very far, so we can either walk there or take the car.”
“How far?”
“Ten minutes.”
“For your legs or for mine?”
After a second, I recalibrate my estimations and say, “Ten to fifteen minutes.”
She momentarily thinks about it and says, “A walk sounds nice right now.”
With everything we’ve eaten, I have to agree. We begin our journey to our next destination, and when we pass the car, I put the bag with our leftovers in the backseat. As we resume, Andrea slips a greedy hand under my jacket to plaster herself onto me, so I wrap an arm around her shoulders to keep her close.
“That first half of the date was really perfect, baby,” she praises.
“I’ve wanted to take you out for so long, I had to make it count.”
At the next crossing, we arrive on a larger, more lively, and animated street. I see how hard she tries to guess where I’m taking her, and when she notices the big neon sign ahead.
An excited tremor runs through her. “Are you taking me to an arcade?!”
That impatient little … “Yes, I am.”
“Oh, my God! I haven’t been to one in ages! I used to go all the time with my dad.”
“I remember, yes. That’s why I thought you’d enjoy it.”
She stops walking, which makes me stop as well. “Do you remember every conversation we’ve ever had?” she wonders .
“I have a ‘prodigious memory.’ I can retain a substantial amount of information with near-perfect accuracy—especially when the subject interests me,” I explain.
“Oh, God… I need to be careful with what I say around you. You’ll remember it forever and hold it against me.”
“Like you’ve ever had control over what your mouth says,” I tease. “Now, come on. Part two of our date awaits.”
She lets me lead her to the arcade, and her eyes light up with excitement when we enter. This probably is a little more advanced than the one her father used to take her to, with state-of-the-art machines, virtual reality masks, augmented reality… But it also has a lot of good old arcade cabinets, as well as a bar and restaurant area.
I take my wallet out to retrieve the cards I picked up earlier today and give her one. “We both have forty dollars’ worth of credits. I’ll recharge them if needed, but this should be fine,” I explain.
She takes it and then grabs my arm to pull me further in. She looks like a child in a toy store, overwhelmed by her options. “Oh my God, I don’t know where to start,” she complains, flattening her hands over her cheeks.
“First, let’s get rid of our coats to be more comfortable. Then, I’d recommend we start with the far end corner of the floor, where they have the classics.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Many times. But usually when it isn’t this busy.”
“Really? I didn’t take you for an arcade fan,” she skeptically points out.
“Who do you think bought the Donkey Kong one at the office?”
“Right… I’m still mad at you, by the way.”
“For what?”
“I was this close,” she explains, bringing the tips of her thumb and index near each other, “to beating Nammota’s high scores.”
I tense at the reminder of what happened that day. “First, you know you shouldn’t have been playing during work hours. Second, I apologized for that. Third, do you actually believe a hacker wanted by every federal agency in the country would leave that kind of crumb trail?”
She hesitates, my argument effectively shaking her beliefs. “The guys told me they think it’s Greg—who went to work at Avoss,” she explains.
I can barely hold back a snort. “Greg isn’t Nammota.”
“Why?”
“He wasn’t good enough.”
“Then who is it?”
“Again, what kind of imbecile would actually leave a clue like that? ”
She doesn’t seem to like my logic, frowning with a pout. “Come on,” I encourage, passing a hand behind her back. “Let’s get a locker, and then you can take your revenge for the Donkey Kong high scores by beating my ass at whatever games you want.”
Just like that, her smile returns. “Good idea,” she approves. Once our coats are disposed of, I guide her to the area I mentioned. “Oh! Let’s try this one! I’ll definitely kick your ass,” she decides.
I follow her to the Mortal Kombat machine, amused by her competitiveness. I put my glasses on while she slides her card in, and the game starts. We play a few rounds, focused and determined. I’m not as adamant as she is about winning, but I still want to be a worthy opponent, so I give her a good fight. We diplomatically agree to stop when we reach a tie after six rounds.
Then, hooking her arm in mine, she takes me on a lazy stroll around, seeking our next game. We’re overdressed compared to everyone else here, so we attract a lot of eyes. Andrea, especially. She’s so stunning in that little dress that a few men blatantly stare as we walk by them. Whenever they meet my dangerous glare, though, they’re quick to look away.
When I suggest we try the giant Connect 4, she squints her eyes at me. “How many moves can you anticipate in advance?”
“It depends if I’m focused or not. But a lot.”
“Nice try, four eyes.” She tries to walk away with a laugh, but I keep her right there.
It doesn’t take us long to find games to try, and the timeless magic of this place kicks in. She wins at the car racing one, then at the air hockey. It’s only when she also wins at the giant Space Invaders that her suspicions arise. I notice her suspicious side looks, so I adjust my strategy. I’m not losing on purpose, but since I would rather see her glee every time she wins, I’m not trying very hard. And she’s genuinely good at this, so it’s not like I have to lower my usual skills that much.
About an hour in, even though I’ve occasionally come up first, she suspiciously asks, “You’re not letting me win on purpose, right?”
“Why would I do that?” I wonder.
“I don’t know. To make me happy? To get laid?”
The notion amuses me so much that I grin. “Something tells me I don’t need that to get laid.” Coming closer, I whisper the rest in her ear. “You’d let me fuck you even if I beat you at every single game in this room, wouldn’t you, Andrea?”
She lets out a warm, heavy breath that fans across my jaw and tries to step away. But I don’t allow it, resting a firm hand on her lower back.
“Answer me,” I demand.
“Yes, I’d let you. ”
“Of course you would. You’ve been dying to have me inside you again, haven’t you?”
Another pant escapes her as her petite body shivers against me. “Yes…”
“I bet you think about it so much, my little dork, of all the ways I used to fuck you. I used to ram so hard into you, into your drenched and beaten little pussy, but you always begged for more. Why was that, Andrea?”
“Because I—I was a slut for you. For your cock…”
I didn’t expect that word to come out of her mouth, and I don’t think she did either, given the way she trembles against me at the admission. She always liked it when I pulled on her hair or extracted shameful confessions out of her. Maybe this, words like that, have the same kind of power on her. And frankly, she isn’t wrong.
“You were,” I confirm. “Such a greedy little slut for me that now, you lie alone in bed, wishing I could materialize and fuck you into the mattress.”
Her knees go lax, so my hold on her gets firmer. “I do,” she practically moans.
The fact that we’re surrounded by dozens of people is lost on me. Only we exist in this moment.
“Do you take that little toy out and fuck yourself with it, imagining it’s me?” I ask. She nods, her hand reaching up to grab my nape. “And when your tight little cunt comes around it, it isn’t enough, is it?” This time, she shakes her head. “Did you use it yesterday, like you said you would?”
“No, I-I wanted to wait.”
“For what?”
“For… For you. For the real thing.”
“What a good girl you are, Andrea…”
She nods, pulling me closer, and I drop a wet kiss on the curve of her neck.
“Come on, we still have credit on our cards,” I abruptly declare, letting go of her.
She stands there, her flushed face frozen with shock and frustration. “Lex!” she scolds me when she regains her senses.
“What?”
“You’re such a jerk!” she mutters with a pout, crossing her arms in discontentment.
I can’t resist how endearing she looks, so I lay a quick kiss on her forehead. “Come on, thirty more minutes here and we’ll do anything you want. ”
Still vexed, she doesn’t answer and walks off to the dinner area instead. I follow her closely, admiring her enticing silhouette. The skirt of her dress flows over her ass in a mesmerizing way, and I regret only noticing it now.
Andrea picks a free booth and slides onto the seat. I do the same on the other side, grinning at her. “Is everything alright?” I wonder.
“No. I’m so fucking wet and horny, it’s ridiculous.”
“And I’ve been partially hard the entire evening, Andrea. We all have our issues.”
She has to be a sadist to some extent because her pout slowly twitches into a smile, no matter how hard she tries to hold it back.
A cheery waitress pops up next to us on roller skates, all smiles and pink hair. “Hi, guys, I’m Mallory! What can I get you, lovebirds?”
“Do you have a chocolate milkshake?” Andrea wonders.
“We sure do!”
“Then I’ll have that.”
Mallory writes it down in her notebook and turns to me. “And what can I get you, sir?”
“A second straw.”
Andrea shakes her head vehemently. “No, I don’t share milkshakes with frustrating jerks.”
Mallory freezes, her chipper expression frozen. “Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?”
“The date is actually going great. Isn’t it, Andrea?” Still pouting, she agrees with a dry nod. I turn to our waitress to explain, “She’s just a little frustrated with me, but we’ll be fine. I’ll have a bottle of sparkling water, please.”
“Sure thing!” She swiftly rolls away, eager to escape the awkward moment.
I watch Andrea, amused at how hard she tries to stay mad at me. Her eyes are on everything but me. So, I slide out of my seat, go around the table, and lower next to her instead. Because she’s stubborn like that, she still doesn’t acknowledge me.
“How much longer?” I wonder, toying with a loose strand of curl that spills out.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“What if we scrap that half hour and do whatever you want after our drinks?” I give in.
The switch in her is almost instantaneous, and she turns to me with a pleased smirk. “You’re such a quick learner, Coleman.”
I chuckle, amused by her temper. God, I love this fire within her so fucking much .
Amorous and tender again, she grazes my temple, her fingers running through my freshly cut hair. “Warn me next time you get a haircut. I wasn’t ready, and it almost got me pregnant.”
A genuine laugh rips out of me. “While my favorite pastime is pretending I’m trying to get you pregnant, I’ll make sure to warn you, yes.”
Mallory chooses that exact moment to bring us our drinks. Andrea’s milkshake is enormous, topped with an absurd amount of whipped cream, sprinkles, and a candied cherry on top.
“I don’t know how you can have this after everything we ate,” I say once we’re alone again, opening my water.
She takes a long sip through her straw. “This is liquid, so it’ll fill in the gaps in my stomach. And I always have room for sweets.”
With anyone else, I would have explained it doesn’t work that way. But I’m too familiar with her wit and intelligence not to know she’s being humorous. “Must be a raccoon thing,” I mumble before drinking some water.
“You need to find a better nickname for me,” she decides after another sip of her milkshake. “I’m not explaining to people why you call me ‘raccoon.’”
“Maybe I’m a raccoon enthusiast.” She laughs at my suggestion but quickly stops herself, trying to stay serious. “And I also call you a dork,” I remind her.
“See, that’s exactly what I mean. You need to find something cute and sweet. Not something that makes everyone question why you picked me, of all people.”
“I’m not a darling, honey, sweetheart, babe… kind of person, Andrea.”
“Then find something personal, something you like about me.”
“I can’t start calling you ‘incredible ass’ in front of people, right?”
She giggles again. “Of course your mind went there, you animal. Pick something cute. Like, if I had dimples, you’d call me dimples.”
“You have dimples.”
“The ones above my butt don’t count. Stop trying.”
She looks so fucking pretty, smiling like she does, her eyes sparkling with happiness and enjoyment, and I get lost in the beauty of her face. How did I ever get so fucking lucky?
I’m lost in her when it clicks, and I understand what she means. With a delicate thumb, I follow the path of brown specks that dust the bridge of her nose and cheekbones.
“Those. I love those.”
“My freckles?”
“Yes. Is it an acceptable nickname?”
She nods, a little overwhelmed .
“Then it’s settled,” I decide. “I’m baby, and you’re freckles.”
We continue our drinks in near silence, as if something has shifted between us. When she can’t have more of her milkshake, she slides it over to me. I finish it in a few sips, and she pushes against my side to make me exit the booth. “Come on, we still have to walk to your car,” she reminds me.
Although I think I know what she’s looking forward to, I force myself not to get ideas. I told her I didn’t expect any outcomes from this date, but I also can’t deny that the sexual tension between us is growing unbearable. We need to do something about it if we don’t want it to blow up in our faces. Which could happen at any time, at this point, even at work.
As we reach the locker with our things, I feel her arm pull me to the left. When I look, I see a photo booth. “You want to take pictures?” I ask.
“Yes, to commemorate tonight. Is that alright?”
“Of course. Anything you want, freckles .”
She leads me to the booth and makes me sit first, then props herself on my lap with an arm around my shoulders. When I motion to remove my glasses, she stops me, grabbing my wrist.
“No, keep them on,” she insists. “You look really hot like this.”
A low chuckle rumbles in my chest as I shake my head, lowering my hand to her thigh instead.
“Are we ready?” she asks.
“I think so.”
She uses her arcade card to pay and selects the options she wants—two copies, four different pictures, colors, and no filters. When a countdown begins, we bring our faces closer, using the image the screen sends back to adjust. As soon as the picture is snapped, she says, “Come on, baby. Let loose. Funny faces this time.”
As if she doesn’t trust that I can handle that myself, she squishes my cheeks together while she sticks her tongue out, crossing her eyes.
Once the second picture is over, I ask, “What do you want for the next one?”
She doesn’t even hesitate before she says, “Kiss me.”
The two words ignite a violent shiver that explodes from my chest to ripple through my entire body. I’ve been waiting for them, longing for them, for what feels like months. We haven’t kissed since that day she barged into my place to demand answers. I haven’t deserved to kiss her since—and didn’t deserve it then, either. Not until she was ready for it. Not until she asked.
And she just did .
But I’m so stunned that I don’t know what to do. I merely gape at her, trying to process what this means. I barely notice the flash of the third picture, lost in the depth of her eyes.
She gives me a small, indulging smile, and her soft hand comes to my jaw. Then, slowly, like I might panic, she comes closer until her lips meet mine. And that’s all it takes to release all the need, all the love, and all the passion I hold for her.
My own hand flies to cradle the side of her face as I deepen her shy kiss, already in desperate need of more. Can kissing this woman ever become dull? Can I ever get used to it? The sparks, the tingles, the racing of my heart, the frenzy of my mind… Can they fade with time?
I don’t think so. Be it the thousandth kiss or the millionth, it will forever be a cataclysmic experience.
My glasses become an issue, askew between us, so I remove them, never breaking our kiss. Our embrace grows needier, both craving more. My tongue and hers meet with yearning intensity, like two lovers starved for each other. Like us . She clings to me, lost in the kiss, and I hold on to her like she’s the only thing keeping me tied to this world, to reality.
When it still isn’t enough, she shifts on my lap and I help her until she’s straddling me in her sexy dress, her legs on each side of me as that heated spot between them presses on my aching cock. I fill my hands with her ass as she fills my mouth with her tongue, her hands tangled in my hair to keep me right there.
The curtain opens next to us, but it isn’t enough to break the moment as I immediately tug it closed, ignoring whoever’s out there.
In my greed to get more, I slip my hands under her dress and feel the lace high on her thigh, the lack of it on her ass, and then the straps that rise to her waist. The way my cock throbs at it makes me moan in her mouth. “What the fuck are you wearing under there, Andrea?” I groan.
“Take me to your place, and I’ll show you.”
That would be a perfect ending to a perfect night. I want to make love to her with intensity and passion like we used to. I want to take her to my bed and only let her out of it when the sun rises again, like I promised. I want to keep her pinned under me until her whole body is flushed, covered in sweat, and so satiated she can barely move.
But she needs to be sure this is what she wants, too. This time, we aren’t embarking on a whirlwind of passion that clogs our minds. We’re starting the rest of our lives together, and I need her to be certain this is what she wants.
“Are you sure?” I ask, my lips following an invisible line down her throat. She smells so fucking good, it’s addictive .
“I’ve been sure since before Seoul,” she confesses. “But I wanted… I needed…”
A moan prevents her from saying more when I nip at the pulsing flesh at the base of her throat. “You wanted to go slow,” I continue for her. “Because you were scared I’d hurt you again.”
She nods, her hand on the back of my head fisting my hair to bring me closer.
I need her to believe what I’ll say next, so I force myself away from her taste and meet her eyes. “If I ever hurt you again, Andrea, you have my express approval to cut off my balls and gag me with them.”
The giggle she lets out is enchanting, just like every part of her at that moment. Then, like she can’t help herself, she gives me an adamant kiss, her tongue briefly grazing my lip.
“Right now, I’d rather be the one gagging on them,” she counters. “And on your cock, too. So, take me to your place, baby.”
“Your wish is my command, freckles.”