On His Face - Tabatha Kiss Page 0,109
a woman can deny sex to you?”
I twitch. “The hell?”
She shrugs. “Marcus.”
“Your dad’s bodyguard?” Melanie asks. “You’re still fucking him?”
“Since I was fourteen,” Trix muses.
“Uh.” Robbie laughs. “Wow.”
“He was fifteen,” she says, waving a hand. “It’s not as squicky as it sounds. Long story short: We grew up together, he joined the Army, came back ripped, my dad hired him as a bodyguard, and we kept fucking on the side. Totally casual.”
He nods. “Ah, I see. Continue.”
“Anyway,” she continues, “before my dad went to jail, it was all taboo and fun but now that it’s so easy to get away with... kinda lost the shine.”
“Makes sense.”
“He’s not a bad guy or anything, but lately, he’s just kind of gotten a little clingy like he actually wants to start a relationship and that’s just not my thing.”
“So, you want to stop sleeping with him but you don’t want to disturb the peace in the process?”
“Exactly!”
Robbie shrugs. “You could tell him you met another guy,” he suggests.
“See, if I did that, then I’d have to provide info so he can be properly vetted because—”
“Bodyguard,” he finishes with a nod.
“Right.”
“That’s quite the pickle, Trix.” He scratches his nose. “Have you tried saying no?” Melanie slaps his shoulder. “What? It’s a serious question.”
“You had a tone,” she says.
He smirks in her direction. “Don’t you have a litter of newborns to feast on?”
Melanie frowns at him.
Trix tilts her head. “Won’t that piss him off?”
“Oh, it might,” Robbie says, “but any man who gets pissy over a simple no, thank you isn’t worth your time, Trix.”
She smiles. “You’re right. It was so simple. Thank you, Robbie.”
“Hey. I believe in you,” he adds, pointing his non-bandaged finger. “You got this.”
Melanie stares at him. “Hmm,” she hums.
Robbie’s eyes flick in her direction. “What?”
“Nothing,” she says. “I mean, I’ve heard of men speaking out of their asses before, but I’d never seen it so up close before.”
“Well, you always were a little prude when it came to butt stuff, Mel.”
I share a glance with Trix, both of us holding back our chuckles.
“That certainly was some top-tier counseling, Rob, but it’s time for you to go,” Melanie says, her teeth clenched together.
“Aw, honey,” he says, making her nostrils flare out. “Don’t you want me to stick around for a drink or two?”
“No, thank you,” she says, stabbing every word.
He grins. “That’s my cue, then.”
“Yes, dear god, please piss off.”
Robbie shakes his head, amused. “You sure are testy when you’re ovulating.”
Her jaw drops. “I am not ovulating!”
“What’s the date today?” he asks the table.
“The fifteenth,” I say.
“Ah, yep.” He nods. “She is.”
She scoffs. “How could you possibly know that? I don’t even know that.”
“I just know.”
“Well, you can just know somewhere else. Go away, Robbie.”
He stands up from his chair and slides it back under the next table with his good hand. “Ladies, it was a pleasure, as always,” he says to us.
“And update your forms, please,” Melanie adds.
“Oh, calm down, Mel,” he says. “You were barely inconvenienced.”
“No, you’re totally right. You only wasted five hours of my life. I suppose my consolation prize is the fact that you’re not going to be able to jerk off properly for weeks.”
“You’re more than welcome to come over and help me out,” he quips. “As long as you wear a mask to conceal those bags under your eyes, of course. You’re looking a little worn out, Mel. Books not selling?”
“Eat me, you limp-dick loser.”
“Blow me, you frigid hag.” He looks away from her and smiles at us instead. “See you around, ladies. Nora, Trix...” he glares at Melanie, “Maleficent.”
I give a wave. “Bye, Robbie!”
“Good to see you,” Trix says.
“We should do this again soon.”
Trix blows a kiss. “We love you.”
“Bye,” he says, tossing another wink in our direction.
He wanders through the restaurant toward the exit, leaving Melanie fuming in her chair.
“Would you guys please stop being so nice to him?” she asks. “You’re gonna give him self-esteem.”
Trix cackles. “What the hell was that about? Did you two wake up together again?”
The server slides in, sets down another round of mimosas, and takes off just as quickly. He’s working for that tip today. Good boy.
“Four months,” Melanie says, yanking her jacket off. “It’s been four months since our divorce was finalized and that bastard still lists me as his emergency contact.”
I take a fresh drink. “What’s up with his hand?”
“Well, I was up all night writing, as usual,” she begins. “Got to a really great stopping point and passed out around five to get