Page 74 of Her Gluttony
I take it in my hand.
Goosebumps spread over my arms.
Because I hold a piece of her trust in my hand. Trust I don’t deserve.
I press it against my chest and feel.
Feel the trust she gave me.
And then I place it back on the sideboard.
Turn.
“Hey there,” she says, leaning against the wall by the double door leading to the living room.
“Hey,” I say, because I am not me right now, and everything feels extraordinarily awkward.
“You put it back,” she says, her eyes flashing to the gun next to me.
“Yeah,” I say. Nothing feels right. Everything is messy and fucked up beyond.
“Why don’t you shower and I make us some breakfast?” she asks, pushes herself off the wall, and walks away into the kitchen, giving me the chance to get some space for myself.
When I return from the bathroom, freshened up and with my messy hair up in a bun, she is standing at the kitchen counter waiting for a coffee to run through the machine.
On the table in front of the counter are two plates. One with an avocado sandwich.
She places a coffee next to it.
“Oatmilk cappuccino,” she says, pointing at the coffee pot for me as she sits down at her own plate with an egg sandwich.
A smile appears on my face.
Of all the things I have in my life, everything I own, everything I can get with a snap op my finger, this right here, the small thing right here, the avocado sandwich with the vegan oatmilk coffee, that is what matters.
It is the moment I feel myself again.
I walk up to her, push her chair around, and step between her legs.
I kiss her.
The way her lips feel.
I want more.
So much more.
I sit, climb onto her lap, not stopping the kiss with our tongues exploring each other, and cup her face.
I roll my hips, unable to contain myself.
Her hands wander around me, trail from my back to my ass, as she guides the movement of my hips.
With her hands.
And her hips.
She gasps out as her hands close around my ass.
