CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Felix
“I don’t mind going in,” Faye says, climbing from the car.
I’m getting gas, but mostly I’m thinking about what Faye said, how she only ever wants to do anything intimate with me. It’s the same way I feel about her, and it gets me wondering about the full scale of my want, the hunger, the future, and the happiness.
Maybe she wants it too. Maybe it’s possible.
Faye turns as if to walk away. She’s wearing another of her summer dresses, the mist-like fabric settling tantalizingly against her ass.
My hands tighten as I think about smoothing away all that billowing fabric, pushing it up and up to reveal more of her creamy thighs, her ass, her slit….
“Wait,” I say. “My treat.”
Reaching into my pocket, I hand her my wallet.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
I almost roar there’s no way I’m letting my woman pay for a damn thing.
“I’m sure,” I smirk. “You’re doing me a favor anyway.”
She laughs lightly. “Paying for some gas. Hardly a big deal.”
I grin. “Then you better get yourself something nice in there. Go nuts. Buy the whole store if you want to.”
She laughs as she walks away, drawing my eye to her hips like a camera to its subject. My cock starts to grow hard again, the way it always does around Faye, and I attempt to focus on filling the car instead.
Soon it’s done, and I walk over to the driver’s seat.
But I’m too full of energy to sit down.
I lean against the car, looking through the windows at Faye as she walks over to the counter. She’s got a basket filled with a few snacks and sodas. Otherwise, the store is empty, just Faye, the cashier…and another man walking straight up to the counter.
He pushes right in front of Faye.
He's tall, probably as tall as me, and he’s wide and looks physically strong. He’s a bully.
I know right away from how he turns and sneers at Faye. She’s saying something, probably telling him not to push in, and he just sneers again, turning back to the counter.
Walking toward the gas station, I caution myself to stay calm. It’s not normally a warning I have to give myself. There’s never usually this churning mess of anger inside of me, this primal rage trying to burst free at the thought of anybody disrespecting my woman.
“Look,” the cashier is saying as I walk over to the counter. “Why don’t I just get this done quickly?”
The cashier is gesturing at the big man’s items. Beer and snacks and a pack of cigarettes.
“Yeah,” the man says, laughing meanly. “Wait your turn.”
“But it was my turn,” Faye says, sounding so annoyed I almost crush the man’s face against the counter.
They haven’t seen me yet, except for the cashier.
Faye and the man have their backs to me.
“All right,” the man snaps. “Let’s get going. I haven’t got all day.”
Faye huffs, looking out at the gas pumps as if expecting to find me there. It gives me a side-on view of her face, the twist of her lips, and the sense of unfairness blazing from her eyes.