“You look hot as fuck,” he said, sending me another dense pulse of heat. When I glanced up, he flashed me one of those killer smiles. “Just-fucked hot. Needs-to-be-fucked-again hot. Every guy in there is going to want to bend you over a table.” I flushed and that heat on him intensified again. “Hell, if they were seer, they’d probably try to fight me for you, doc...”
I let out a skeptical grunt. I was still preoccupied with arranging my dress around my body, since it looked odd to me in some way.
Minutes later, after we’d each made sure the other was more or less put back together in a socially-acceptable way, he began sliding across the seat towards the car door.
“You ready, Miri?” he asked me, his hand on the latch as he glanced back.
When I saw the humor sparking in his flecked gold eyes, I laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
“CAL, HEY. I wanted to introduce you. This is my...” Black hesitated, glancing at me. For a few seconds, I felt him fighting with words.
I lifted an eyebrow, puzzled.
“...Girlfriend,” I finished for him, holding out a hand to the shorter man with the tattoos wearing an apron and black and white checkered chef’s pants. “Miri Fox.”
The man took my hand, his face erupting in a genuine smile.
He was handsome, I noticed, with shocking green eyes that stood out in a dark complexion. Dark brown hair. Muscular, with broad shoulders. He looked ex-military, like Black.
His gaze flickered down me as he continued to hold my hand.
I caught a glimmer of his thoughts, probably in part because I was touching him.
Black doesn’t have girlfriends. I wonder if this poor chica knows that... dios de mio, she’s hot as hell though. He looks pretty wrapped up in her now... but maybe I could get her number for when he’s finished with her. Fucker gets the most unbelievable pussy...
Black stiffened next to me. Aggression flared off him in a sharp burst.
Not just aggression. Fury. Violence.
It tensed every muscle in my body. I looked up at him.
Black... chill, I warned. Chill, baby. You need to relax... he doesn’t mean anything by it.
You heard that?
He’s not wrong, is he? I sent drily. Usually, I mean. He’s not wrong about you? So how can you get mad at him for that?
My words had zero effect on the intensity I felt coming off him.
Realizing it wasn’t being helped by my holding the other man’s hand, I tried to let it go gracefully but the handsome man in the chef’s hat kept ahold of me. Not wanting to make a thing of that either, I let him, leaning deeper against Black’s side where we stood, trying to calm him down that way.
“She’s stunning, my friend. An absolute angel––”
“She’s my fucking wife,” Black said, his voice hard.
I jumped a little, and not only at his words.
The aggression in his voice was thick, unambiguous.
The man in front of me flinched, dropping my hand like it was a hot iron.
“Dios, brother...” His smile widened, but I saw the nerves that touched his green eyes as he looked from me up at Black. “Congratulations! Wow... you got married, Black? When?”
“Recently,” he said. “We’re keeping it low-key for now.”
He still seemed to be having controlling himself.
I didn’t speak, but fought to keep my expression still.
The other man nodded, smiling wider. He still looked nervous, but more than that, faintly embarrassed. I could tell he felt guilty for his thoughts, even before he backed away from me somewhat, keeping his eyes focused on Black alone now.
“Well, everything’s on the house then, brother. Whatever you want... it’s on me! You want some champagne? We got that too... or wine, if you prefer...”
He ushered us to a booth in a back corner of the high-ceilinged restaurant.
Black ordered something or other. I let him do all of that. Frankly, the feelings coming off him still alarmed me, so I didn’t pay much attention to anything he or his friend said before “Cal” finally walked away.
I found myself massaging Black’s stomach then his thigh once he had, and then we were kissing again, and the sheer territoriality coming off him alarmed me a little. When I felt us starting to slip into that other place, I pushed him back, right around when a waiter brought us over an ice bucket stand and a bottle of what had to be expensive champagne.
I’m not a big champagne drinker, but I couldn’t believe how good it tasted... nothing like how I normally thought of champagne tasting at all.
Black still had his hand on me under the table as I took my first few sips. He pulled my thigh over his seconds later, holding it possessively as I drank more from the thin-stemmed flute.
I watched his face, noting his dilated pupils as he massaged my leg.
“Married, huh?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow at him with a smile.
He didn’t answer, but I saw his lips firm.
His fingers tightened noticeably on my thigh.
“You know, you don’t have to make things up to keep other guys away from me,” I added, nudging him playfully with my shoulder. “I’m not going to start dating your friends, Black... you get that, right?”
Again, he didn’t answer me.
I watched his high-cheekboned face as he continued to stare out over the rest of the dimly lit restaurant. When he didn’t glance my way after a few more seconds, I eventually followed his eyes, taking in the rest of the dining area for the first time.
The first thing that struck me were all of the small lights, like fairy lights. They jutted off trees with winding trunks that stood in planters inside the high-ceilinged room, their leaves and branches decorated with those tiny lights as well. White, sheer cloths hung down from the edges of walls and partitions dividing different areas of the room, giving whole segments of the restaurant the illusion of privacy, particularly our own.
Black’s friend, Cal, put us in a corner booth where it was pretty dark, but the rest of the restaurant was covered in those white lights, giving the restaurant a dim, almost surreal glow, since no other illumination came from the ceiling or floors. A full-sized stone fountain stood in the middle of the foyer area by the street. We must have walked right by it when we came in, but I barely noticed at the time; now I could only see the edge of it on the other side of the dividing wall, although I could hear it, even with the murmur of voices and violin music. Water gushed down from a flute held by a stone woman posed almost like Venus de Milo.
I was still looking around when I felt Black’s eyes on me again and turned.
“Miri,” he said. “You know how I feel about you, right?”
I froze. Refocusing on his gold, cat-like eyes, I stared up at him, bewildered. He studied my expression as I reacted to his words, then frowned.
“You really don’t know.” It wasn’t a question.
I felt a harder pain come off him. That time, it didn’t feel like sex-pain, that feeling that came with him being a seer, that had more to do with contact and desire than anything physical. I didn’t know what this other pain meant, but I found myself massaging his thigh, trying to get him to look at me.
“Hey,” I said. “Black, what’s wrong?”
He stared off, his expression unreadable.
Before I could get him to talk, they brought us our food.
The sheer amount of it startled me.
Black got that dish he’d been describing to me back at his place. Something his friend made as a specialty, a personalized version of spaghetti alle vongole, from what Black told me. I’d already figured out he was a fan of Italian food... and seafood... which meant he lived in the right city. One of the right cities, anyway.
He’d gotten me a salmon and spinach fettuccine, which was to die for. I found I was ravenous, too––hungry enough to forget about pretty much anything else, for a few minutes at least. Of course, I still pretty much ate from his lap. I didn’t try to
move my leg from where it wrapped around his, and he’d curled an arm around me, even as we ate.
His friend Cal came to check on us two more times after the champagne.
I definitely got the sense Cal noticed how handsy both of us were, but he was careful not to look anywhere but at Black’s face, even when he asked us about the food and I responded enthusiastically.
After he left the second time, I felt that pain on Black again.
I’d eaten enough by then to be less distracted by the food.
“Hey.” I slid deeper into his lap, wrapping my arms around his waist. “What’s wrong? You need to tell me... it’s driving me crazy.” Hesitating, I prodded him with my mind, opening myself up more, so he could feel more of me. “Are you waiting for me to admit how I feel about you?” I asked him, softer. “Because I will.”
He looked down at me. Tugging his napkin off his other leg, he wiped his mouth, then sat back in the booth, meeting my gaze.
“No,” he said.
I frowned a little, but he didn’t wait for me to speak.
I’m wondering if you take this thing with me seriously, Miri, he sent, still watching my face. I’m not looking for platitudes. I’m wondering if you see me how Cal does... as someone who can’t be trusted with anything real.
Studying my eyes, he curled his fingers into my hair, stroking it back away from my face. His expression didn’t soften. I still saw that tauter scrutiny in his gold eyes. Is this just some fucking thing to you, because of how you see me?
I let out an involuntary laugh. There wasn’t a lot of humor in it.
“You’re not serious right now, are you?” I said.
Do I seem not serious to you? His eyes didn’t flinch. You understand that I never lied to any of those women, right? I never told any of them I was dating them... or that I wanted to. I never said anything to any of them that wasn’t true. His frown deepened as he continued to watch my eyes, clearly looking for a reaction. I never asked any of them to be exclusive to me. I never expected that from any of them. Ever, Miri.
I still couldn’t get past my surprise.
I understood the basics though. I’d hurt his feelings.
“Black...” That disbelief reflected in my voice.
Feeling him withdraw in some way, even though physically he didn’t move, I wrapped my arm further around him, maybe in some attempt to pull him back.
Black, I murmured to him. What’s going on? Is this because of what I said about you and other women? Because I wasn’t accusing you of anything.
He shook his head, but I didn’t get the sense it was a “no” precisely.
I found myself massaging him, not to distract him, but maybe to pull him out of wherever that part of him had gone. He’d never come across as insecure to me––far from it. I wasn’t sure if this had to do with what Cal thought or what I said, or something more to do with where we both were right then.
Either way, he responded to having my hands on him.
I felt him opening more, the longer I touched him, even as that harder edge I’d felt began to gradually soften. A few minutes later, he was kissing me again. We kissed harder, seconds after that, then he pushed me down to the booth seat, groaning.
Black... Remembering where we were, even as I could feel where both of us were going, I shoved on his chest, half in a panic. Black... we can’t. Black... you need to stop...
His pain wrapped into me, blanking out my mind.
I let out a gasp, gripping the top of the booth seat as I tried to pull myself out from under him. He was still kissing me, but I managed to untangle myself somehow and slide backwards.
Then I was around the edge of the seat and standing, watching him from the other side of the booth, where he stared up at me, breathing harder. His lion-like gold eyes reflected light from the Christmas strings wrapped around the trees behind where I stood.
Are you going to leave me? he sent. Am I just some child to you? Someone you’ll fuck until the fun wears off? Before you find some human to bed for real...?
I stared at him, my jaw hanging.
Black, what the hell are you––
Answer me, Miriam. Please. Just answer the fucking question... please.
I closed my mouth with a snap.
Holding out my hand, I firmed my jaw.
“Come on.” When he didn’t move, I sharpened my voice, enough that a few people looked our way, startled. “Quentin,” I snapped. “Come here. Right now. We’re leaving.”
Pain came off him, hitting into me with a force that sucked in my breath.
“Now,” I said, louder. “Right now.”
He slid his way around the booth. Seeing Cal walking towards us from the kitchen, looking faintly alarmed, I held up a hand to him before he got too close.
“The food was great. Quentin’s not well. We’re leaving... sorry to miss dessert.”
I said it more or less in a rush of words.
I might have barked it at him honestly. Either way, Cal came to a abrupt halt when he was still at least five yards from our table. I saw his eyes go round as he looked between me and Black, alarm coming off him like a scent.
Black had regained his feet by then. I caught hold of his hand once he was close enough and I didn’t wait. I marched him to the door of the restaurant and to the curb outside.
Luckily, the driver hadn’t gone far.
He saw us as soon as we walked out the front door.
What felt like too many minutes later, the car stopped smoothly in front of the red carpet that led to the edge of the curb under the green awning. The driver was out and opening the door for us before I tugged Black the rest of the way there.
A minute after that, we were heading back to his building on California Street.
I BARELY GAVE the white van with the blacked out windows a glance that time as we left the car. Black didn’t speak to the driver, who seemed to know enough to leave us both alone. He did walk with us to the front door of the building though, and use his key to let me and Black inside. He also handed me his personal keycard, which worked on the private elevator.
I thanked him profusely. I didn’t have to ask Black whether he’d thought to bring his.
It wasn’t until I got him up the forty-odd flights to his penthouse floor and managed the keys and the locks and got him inside, that I bothered trying to talk to him again.
Even then, I didn’t try to address his question directly.
“Take off your clothes,” I told him.
We weren’t even in his living room yet.
Pain expanded off him in a cloud. I still felt that heavier sadness on him too, but he didn’t argue with me. He shouldered off his jacket without leaving the foyer and let it drop of the floor. He took his shirt off next, kicking off his shoes as he unfastened the buttons. He took off his pants and underwear after that, and I dragged him onto the living room rug, between his giant bay windows on one side and his leather couch on the other.
Lie down, I told him.
He did that too.
I straddled his waist, maneuvering him inside me before he could get turned on enough to extend, which would have made things more difficult for both of us. Being seer, he had an extra part on his cock, what they called a hirik, or “thorn” in his language. When he got turned on enough, it came out, and while that worked for me, being a seer myself––and in more ways than I can possibly explain to anyone who’s never felt anything so mind-blowingly, unbelievably good––it only worked if it happened after he was already inside me.
Otherwise, it could really hurt.
So when I angled my body, moving over him and in so that he was pressed up into that deepest part inside me, I groaned. When he felt me there, he groaned too.
Then he extended all the way, pretty much in that same set of seconds.
“Miri...” he gasped.
He arched up into me, aiming with a precision that made me cry out.
For someone who’d never had sex with a female seer
before we met, he was getting scarily good at it already. He groaned when he did it again, and I felt myself going away in seconds, going back into that dreamlike, fugue space, where nothing else existed but him.
I felt that other pain on him still.
I fought to open it, to try and understand what it meant now that I had him alone. I knew he’d had a rough childhood. More rough than I could imagine really. Some flavor of that flickered around whatever bothered him now, but I couldn’t get any specifics. The confusion of things that reached me in those few seconds didn’t really help. I felt that fear in him worsen, even as he gripped my hips in his hands, arching up into me again, violently that time.
“Gaos,” he groaned. “You’re not going to tell me, are you...? You’re not going to fucking tell me anything...”
Pulling his hands off my hips, I leaned over him, pinning his wrists. He arched up into me again, harder that time, closing his gold eyes as he broke out in a sweat. The lean muscles of his body grew taut as he arched into me again, bringing a hard pain to my chest.
I let out a low cry when he did it again, and he gasped.
“I’m not going anywhere, Black...” I managed, still watching his face. “I promise you, I’m not. I don’t know what else to say... I don’t know what’s wrong, why you’re asking me this...”
I gripped his wrists tighter when he wouldn’t meet my gaze, writhing over and onto him in a way I’d already figured out he liked. He closed his eyes, his face tightening just before he let out a heavier groan, briefly struggling against where I had him pinned.
I gripped him tighter though, trying to get him to look at me.
“Why are you asking me this?” I said. “What’s wrong, baby? Tell me...”
The pain coming off him worsened. I felt him wanting to tell me something. I felt it pulling at him, even as he turned it over in his mind.
Something to do with what he’d said to Cal.
When I understood, the answer stunned me.
“You want to get married?” My words reflected that shock. “Why?”
He groaned again, arching up into me. “Why the fuck do people normally want to get married, Miriam?”
Black Christmas (Plus Bonus Story Black Supper ) Page 5
