was pouring the fresh, hot coffee into two black cups, and they sat at the kitchen island, side by side like book ends. Something about the man made her feel safe and secure. For some reason, she hadn’t felt completely sheltered in a long while. Perhaps grief had a way of doing that, even after all of this time. Grief was a strange thing. Some days were bearable. Others, it was like a rug being snatched from beneath you.
“You were right with something you said when you’d taken me out for breakfast. I struggle with trusting men.” The last time I trusted one, fell for one, invested my time in one, loved one, he up and died on me…
She blurted out the words, so it was too late to reel them back in. He took a leisurely sip of his coffee. Then another.
“I know. But you want to. And that man you want to trust is me.” Finishing off his coffee, he walked past her and placed the empty mug in the sink. “I’ll be on my way. See you this evening.” He turned to her and placed a tender, sweet kiss on her lips. “Goodbye. I’ll see my way out. You did plenty by finally letting me in…”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Just a Little Taste
Aries played with the frayed brim of his black snapback as he checked out the time in his truck. He was twenty-four minutes early. Leaning back, he settled for a leisurely smoke.
Parked in front of Lauren’s adorable house, he listened to Dorothy’s ‘Raise a Little Hell,’ and deliberated on his next move. Bobbing his head to the music, he watched the smoke grow thick as London fog. Never been to London. Maybe I’ll go one day. He caught his reflection in the mirror, and quickly turned away as if the sight of himself sickened him. It didn’t, but he still felt some sort of way. Fuck it.
He turned the car off. Snatching the key, he jumped out with a bottle of wine he hoped would be to her satisfaction. He figured the name, Ménage à Trois Red Blend, meant it had to be good. He rang the doorbell, but no sound came. That’s when he recalled her saying a while back that the doorbell was on the fritz. So he rapped the first few notes of ‘Happy Birthday’ on the wood.
Muffled music played from the inside, and if his nose didn’t lead him astray, he picked up the distinct aroma of fried chicken. He knocked again, this time a bit harder. His stomach in anticipation. Still nobody opened the door.
“What do I need to do for her to open this door? A damn password?” He stepped away from the door and tried to get a look in through a window, but didn’t wish to get too crazy with it. Someone might see him and called the cops.
I haven’t been in trouble with the law for a long ass time. Would hate to have them pay me a visit and I get accused of being a Peeping Tom.
He glanced at the sky and noticed dark clouds, but no rain yet. “Hey! Lauren! It’s me!” he hollered. “Why aren’t ya comin’? Is this a club house?” He knocked harder on the door. “Mecca Lecca High, Mecca Hiney Ho, Lauren!!!” Another loud rap. “Aries is here, just so you know! Mecca Lecca High, Mecca Hiney Ho! You nevaaah, count, yo’ money! When you sittin’, at tha taaable!” he sang the old Kenny Rogers song, ‘The Gambler.’
Lauren pulled the door open before he could complete his second ditty of ‘Happy Birthday’ against her door. A paroxysm of lightning struck, making her jump. Sweat dripped down her face and body, which was encased in a leopard print bodysuit. Holy shit. If thoughts of jumping bones were a sport, I’d get the gold medal right about now… Her breasts looked as if with one wrong move, they’d pop right out. He said a fast, pleading prayer for that wrong move to come to pass…
She was panting hard, her chest rising and falling like an accordion. Full, supple lips were just wide enough to slip his tongue inside, maybe a finger or two as he fucked her so hard, the cops would come knocking, too. Hair was stuck to her face as if it had been glued, and the rest was gathered in a high, slightly lopsided ponytail.
“What are… what are you doing here?” she blurted as she opened the door farther, allowing him room