says full of exasperation. “Did it feel good for you?”
“Of course. That’s what the moaning and jizzing was about.”
Pixie rests next to me on the seat and wraps her arms around my left one. “What’s jizzing?”
“The white stuff I put in your pussy.”
“The baby stuff. Yes, that feels good when it comes out, right? Perry used to make a weird noise when he jizzed. Dove and I would giggle.”
“You heard them?”
“Of course. They weren’t that far away. It’s not a secret that people have sexual intercourse, Anders,” she says and stands up. “I was a little shy about Mama and Dove hearing me. I’m glad they’re asleep. I shouldn’t be shy, but it was my first time.”
“But we have walls and doors here,” I say, following her to the pool’s gate door.
Pixie doesn’t answer. As usual, when she doesn’t want to talk, she just doesn’t. I watch her pull a shirt over her wet, shivering body.
“I would like to eat now. Then we can sleep.”
“And if I say no?”
“I’ll run inside and lock you out while I eat and sleep,” she says, descending into giggles at the thought. Then she waves her arms around and adds, “You would just beat down the door, and I couldn’t hide with all those cameras everywhere.”
I yank on my jeans and carry the tray into the house as she waits at the door. “Mama wants to make carrot juice. Do you like it?”
“I’ve never tried it.”
“Will you?” she asks, running her fingers along my right forearm.
“Sure. What’s it going to hurt?”
Pixie smiles brightly as if I’ve passed a test she set. I’m glad to impress her and also that her tests are so easy. To prove I’m worthy, I’ll drink or eat whatever she wants.
We sit on the couch, eating leftover ribs and potatoes I ordered before leaving for the clubhouse. Pixie takes maybe six bites before feeling full. I have the urge to bully her into eating a few more. She needs to put some meat on her bones. When I met her months ago, Pixie was thin yet healthy. Now she seems one missed meal from keeling over.
Before I can push her to eat more, Pixie changes positions on the couch and flashes her pussy at me. I forget about the food issue and focus on how good she felt wrapped around my cock.
“Tell me about a movie,” Pixie says, leaning back on the couch and seeming tired.
“We could watch one.”
She shakes her head and exhales softly. Based on her expression, I wouldn’t be surprised if she falls asleep right here. When I glance at my phone, I’m surprised to find it’s after one in the morning. I hadn’t realized how much time passed.
I finish my meal while explaining the plot of the next Indiana Jones movie. She listens without saying a word. Her face barely reacts to anything, but I know she’s listening. Whenever I stop talking, her toes poke my leg as if to say, “more.”
Relenting to her fatigue, I put my empty container in the kitchen. Then I show her on my phone how I can lock all the doors and set the alarm.
“No one will be able to sneak up on us,” I explain while wondering if she worries about the Volkshalberd coming here.
I turn off the lights with the phone, which gets an impressed smile from her. Then we head to my room. Scratch that. This is our room now. Pixie’s my honey, and I’m keeping her.
Hell, we might even have a kid. I can do shit like that, right? Not when I was one of the Killing Joes. Fuck, I occasionally have nightmares of a whore from back in the day, showing up and saying her kid is mine. That chick won’t be like Lana. She’ll be looking for money and maybe to rob me. My dreams about kids always turn into fucking nightmares.
But Pixie isn’t one of those trashy, sad bitches back in Cleveland. None of those women liked me. I didn’t like them, either. Fucking was something we did to pass the time. No more meaningful than getting high or taking a shit. Those girls let me fuck them because, well, probably because their daddies fucked them or some uncle, maybe. Most were runaways that ended up in Lonnie’s stable. He didn’t treat them well. Neither did I.
The man I was back then would have destroyed Pixie. No doubt, she’d fucking hate that version of me, too. If he stopped by the side of