9 #2
“Dinner is acceptable,” says Jordan, grinning at me as if they have just scored a vital point. “We will definitely take dinner. Your mother says to come at 6:30 for drinks. Okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, okay.”
“Great,” says Jordan, still grinning.
Andrew glares at me.
ellis
I pick Hannah up from work.
It crossed my mind this morning, when she woke up in my bed, to tell her to call in sick and stay with me instead, and I think I could have convinced her to do it, but it seemed a little much. I’ve spent days with her at this point, and she does have to return to her life.
I suppose I’m afraid that if she gets out of my sight, she’ll come to her senses or something, and I suppose I’m afraid of this because deep down, I know that I am treating her badly.
She does not let me pick her up, not exactly, because she says that she can’t leave her car parked in the parking garage overnight, and that she has to get it home. But when I say I’ll follow her back to her place, she doesn’t protest.
I come up to her apartment with her, and I can’t help but touch her.
I slide my hand over her waist, over her hip.
I stop her as we’re going up the stairs to her place and I kiss her right there, right where anyone can see, and she just melts into me, surrendering entirely to me.
When we break apart, she’s all gaspy and looking at me with this look in her eyes, like the sun rises and sets in me, and it makes something turn over in my stomach.
I could get used to someone looking at me like that. She adores me.
When we get into her place, she says, “Um, I sort of agreed to go to dinner at my mother’s house tonight.”
“When?” I say.
“Soon,” she says. “I have to change and redo my makeup and leave. Drinks at 6:30. I’m sorry. I should have realized you’d want us to be doing something tonight. I can just not go. My mom is only doing it because she doesn’t want this happening with us.”
This surprises me. She’s volunteering to change her plans for me, when I haven’t even offered an alternate plan or indicated I want her to be with me that evening? “Your mother doesn’t really like me.”
“She does not,” says Hannah.
“Bring me along,” I say.
Her eyes widen.
I survey her, giving her a little mischievous grin. “Too far? Too much?”
She thinks this over. “I don’t know. My mother would be livid, but she also would be too polite to turn you away if we both showed up. I’m annoyed with her, so I don’t mind pissing her off.”
“Great,” I say. “Perfect. Should I change, or wear this?” I’m wearing jeans and t-shirt, and it’s not totally dinner-at-the-Wihlbilts. But maybe that’s good. Maybe I should be disrespectful and piss her mother off more.
“But Andrew’s going to be there, and you are going too far with him.”
I’ve barely had any contact with Andrew, but if Callie’s texts were any indication, he’s pretty upset. “Well, I’ll apologize,” I say. “I’ll tell him it’s not what he thinks, and I’ll tell your mother it’s not what she thinks, and this—with us—is happening.”
She lets out a flatly disgusted noise.
I shift on my feet. “Hey, I wouldn’t say that to you if I didn’t think it was true.”
“Yes, you would,” she mutters, and she pushes past me, leaving the kitchen/living room area of her apartment to go into her bedroom.
I stand out there alone, feeling like a piece of shit.
Eventually, I wander into her bedroom. The door to the bathroom is open. I think of being in there with her and putting makeup on her. I can’t help smiling, thinking about that. I go to the bathroom door. “Uh, you’re right. It’s very fucked-up for me to suggest coming along with you.”
She is rubbing cold cream on her face. “I have to take off all the makeup and start over. I swear, the powder settles into all my fine lines and I look ten years older than I am.”
“Why are you wearing powder, anyway?” I say, easing into the bathroom. I look at her makeup. “We should just do what we did for when we took the pictures on your bed, except add a little lip gloss and mascara. You have great skin. You don’t need to cover it up.”
“Great skin?” She points to the little cluster of pimples under her lower lip.
“Yeah, well, I wish we had green concealer.”
She laughs, looking up at me. “You’re…” She starts wiping the cold cream—and all her makeup—off her face. “Were you always like this?”
“Like what?” I’m sorting through the makeup now. I hold up an eyeshadow palette. “What do we think of this?”
“Like… the sexiest and muscliest man in the history of the universe who also does girly shit like makeup?”
“Ouch, I think,” I say, but I’m not offended. “I’m an omega. I’ve always been an omega.”
She drops the pad she used to wipe off all her makeup in the sink.
I crowd in, and I cup her face in my palms. “Okay, you going to let me do this?”
She grins up at me, helpless adoration all over her. “You should come to dinner.”
“No,” I say. “I won’t. But you come to me right after.
Will you do that? And suck me and let me finish in your pussy?
And then we sleep?” I’ve been thinking about her all day.
I’ve been thinking about fucking her all day.
Fucking her is so different than fucking anyone else I’ve ever fucked, and I think I could be getting a little hooked on it.
She sucks in an affected breath. “Oh, God, it’s fine, it’s fine. You come to dinner. I’ll help you destroy my brother. As long as you act like you want me, it’s fine.”
I lift the eyeshadow. “Close your eyes, Hannah.”
She does.
I start to apply it. “I do want you. You think I’m faking it?”
“You have to be.” Her eyes are closed. She looks so pretty and innocent.
I touch her bottom lip. I want to fuck her mouth. “I’m not.” My voice is guttural.
“I think you’re convincing yourself of it because otherwise you’d feel too guilty,” she says. “You’re not a monster. So, you’re telling yourself a lie that you believe. But you’d never want someone like me.”
I finish the eyeshadow. “How much time do we have until dinner?”
“Are you going to come along?” Her eyes are still closed.
“Go sit on the bed,” I say.
Her eyes open. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I want your pretty, little innocent mouth again, Hannah. I love it that I’m the only person to ever come in any of your holes.”