Page 22 of Monster Diner

Her eyes flicked down again, and her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. Which evoked filthy images of her mouth wrapped around his cock.

“Do you really mean that?” Her breath hitched, and she pressed a hand flat against his chest but didn’t push him away. She had to feel the way his heart was beating a thousand miles a minute.

“If you want, I can show you exactly how I feel, Lizzy.”

She tilted her head up, and he slid his hand to the back of her neck, digging his fingers into her thick, silky raven-black hair.

“Would you?” She gasped.

That was all the permission he needed, and he kissed her. Or tried to. As she leaned forward, he leaned down, and his lips collided with her cupid’s bow. She laughed as he pulled back and found her mouth, his tongue sweeping the seam of her mouth, requesting entrance, but she kept her lips closed and he groaned against them. “Lizzy, please.”

She opened up to him, her mouth warm and soft, and tasting of the faintest trace of mint from her toothpaste. Her hands explored his arms, running over corded muscles and along the scars, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Her soft hands exploring his body felt incredible. He’d been picturing this for days, and his imagination could have never done reality justice. Then he grasped her beneath those sinfully short shorts, hoisted her up to wrap her legs around him, and walked her into the primary bedroom behind them. He sat her on the edge of the bed, she spread her legs open for him, the thin barriers of her panties and shorts dampening between them. He rubbed his erection against her heat as she wrapped her thick thighs around him, increasing the friction to maddening heights. If they didn’t slow down, he was going to come in his pants. He wanted to take his time with her, savor every inch of her. Ravish her in ways he knew had never been done to her before.

Then she whispered against his mouth, “I’ve never had a one-night stand, but I want you to fuck me so bad.”

Hearing that from her was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped on him. And Victor pulled away.

She leaned on the mattress, panting for breath, eyes heavy-lidded as she watched him. He wasn’t a one-night stand kind of guy. Never had been. He wanted love, commitment, forever. He was never going to be satisfied with one kiss, one fuck. He wanted all of her.

He placed his hands on her shoulder.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“You’re perfect. I want to fuck you more than you know. But I have to tell you, I don’t want a fling. I am building a life here, and anyone I get involved with, I want it to be long-term.”

She frowned. “Oh.”

He stepped back. He didn’t need to be an empath to see the way she was shutting down, looking for a way to appease him. He knew from the bits and pieces she’d shared that she was freshly single. Her ex didn’t seem like a great guy given the way she reacted to basic human courtesy.

“And I don’t want you to agree to something you’re not entirely comfortable with either,” he quickly added. This was falling apart. He’d moved too fast because he’d been thinking with the wrong head.

She blinked up at him. And he could see the decision churning around in her head. After a long pause, she sighed and said, “I don’t think it’s fair to you to promise more than I can give. I am leaving at the end of the month. And I’m willing to have fun while I’m here, I literally just ended a three-year relationship and lost my job and my dad. I’m not ready for a commitment.” She flinched as if she were waiting for him to lash out at her for expressing her feelings. And a dark thought bubbled up. Was that how her ex had acted when she set a boundary? Victor wanted to find the guy and rip his head from his shoulders.

But he pushed the bloodlust down and instead took another step back from her. “That’s totally fair. I think it’s best for both of us if we just remain friends, then.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I think so too.” She pressed her thighs together, and he had to turn away, or he was going to let his resolve crumble. It wasn’t meant to be. That was fine, right?

10

VICTOR

Victor was made to be perfect. His creator had expected straight A’s and for him to be captain of the football team. In high school, everyone adored Victor—teachers, friends, parents. Everyone but Lizzy. They’d gone to school together for a while but had never interacted until their science teacher had randomly assigned them as lab partners. She’d been less than thrilled.

“I’m not going to do all the work for you,” she’d said as soon as the teacher had opened the class up to individual discussion.

He’d been shocked by her tone. She wasn’t fawning like others usually were. Or disappointed, as his creator often was. “I wasn’t planning on it. We’re supposed to be partners.”

She scoffed as if it were a ludicrous statement. “I’ve seen the inside of your locker,” she said. Like that explained it all.

“What are you talking about?”

“It looks like a natural disaster in there. You’re good at presenting a put-together exterior. But I know you’re a mess on the inside. You’ve probably been relying on others to do your work or something.”

He was both offended and absolutely fascinated. He’d been careful to keep that slovenly side of himself a secret. At home, his room was meticulously clean, or else he’d risk his creator’s wrath. The locker was the one thing he could control, and he left it a mess on purpose to feel like a human and not a puppet for his creator’s ego. Not once in his short life had he ever felt more exposed. It was as if she’d opened his rib cage and torn out his still-beating heart.

Throughout that semester, they’d gone from reluctant co-workers to genuine friends. She’d drawn out more of him, other than his achievements, like his love of spicy food and his secret passion for Hero Club. That was when his crush first blossomed. He felt she saw him in a way no one else had before. They’d become friends and spent most days together, often at the diner, where he’d met Frank, who taught him about cooking and introduced him to rare hot sauces and told him how to prepare food to make almost anything spicy, just like he liked it.

Then she’d disappeared. Things got worse at home with his creator. His desire for control of his life grew, and he stopped keeping his backpack tidy as a small act of rebellion, then his room, which led to more and more fights. Until the one that ultimately got him kicked out.