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Her Pucking Devils

Page 57

by Jenn Bullard

“You certainly look to be doing that,” I say, smiling. “The shop is always busy.”

“It’s finally in the green,” he sighs happily. “Some people would say it’s a really odd place for a tattoo shop.”

“Like who?” I ask, frowning. “This is so good, Arran. I need to tell you that as I stuff my face.”

“I like feeding you,” he grins lazily. Even as I joke about pigging out, I’m eating slower than he is. I am enjoying every bite. “I’m also going to enjoy creating with you.”

Art, art, art. I don’t know why that sounded so dirty, but I’m grateful for how dark it is out here. Maybe he won’t notice my cheeks are on fire.

“You mentioned there would be something art related.”

I drag the last of my bread through the sauce and whimper as I eat it, unable to keep the sound in.

“I’m going to start to worry you don’t eat,” he laughs.

“I can cook,” I mumble. “Kind of. Basic things. I know how to make tacos, mac and cheese, pancakes, and chicken shawarma.”

“That’s a very eclectic variety of foods,” he murmurs.

“I’ve found things Zayn and I like to eat, and I add on to our hyper fixation foods as necessary,” I say, suddenly embarrassed. “I know that makes me sound like a terrible adult.”

“I eat out of a takeout bag ninety percent out of the week,” he snorts. “There is no such thing as being a good adult, baby girl. We’re all just doing the best we can. I’m happy I can feed you. I would have made you tacos if I’d thought about it. I wanted to impress you.”

“I am very impressed,” I confess. “I didn’t know you could do this with zucchini.”

“There’s a lot I can do with a long, hard vegetable.”

I inhale sharply and take a sip of the cider because it’s cold and something to do other than think about other things that are also long and hard. He has to be doing this on purpose, right?

Maybe?

I’m going to need to buy a vibrator.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Buying a vibrator. Shit. Can we not talk about hard vegetables, please?”

Arran chuckles and I squeeze my thighs together as he begins to gather empty plates onto the tray.

“I needed to know if I was affecting you as much as you affect me. Do you not own a vibrator?”

“I’m usually too tired to think about anything other than the inside of my eyelids.” I’ve never owned a vibrator, and I’m going to try very hard to limit the amount of confessions I have tonight.

“I understand that completely. I’m going to give you a hand up.” Arran gets up smoothly, picking up the tray and setting it down on a nearby table before holding out his hand. He doesn’t yank me up, but instead eases me onto my feet, and his free arm wraps around my waist.

I take a deep breath and hug him, despite the fact that he’s simply helping me up. His body is solid and while I weave slightly on my feet, there are no warning bells that tell me I pushed too hard.

“Why did Zayn have photos of redwoods on his tablet?” Arran asks, leaning down and rubbing his cheek against mine.

“He wants to go see them for his birthday. I need to make sure his aunts will be enthusiastic about it before we commit to going,” I explain.

“Why wouldn’t they?” he asks. “I get the feeling your family would do anything for them.”

“They’re turning eight, and it’s their birthday too. He was in a hurry to be born and they share the day together.”

“Oh. I can see the issue then,” he says.

I can hear inhaling, and I can’t help but ask, “Are you smelling me?”