Virgin for Sale

Chapter 18

No music sounds, and I wonder if she’s even listening to anything.

Faye climbs inside and tells me her address.

Again, I don’t say anything.

Silence fills the car.

“I’m hungry,” Kerry says. Her voice is small as it carries from the back of the car.

“I can pull over for some takeout. There’s plenty of drive-thru places if you don’t want to eat inside.” Anything to keep Faye near me longer.

“I’m covered. I made dinner.”

“You did meatballs in the crockpot?” Kerry asks.

“Yes.”

“Awesome. Are you inviting your boss in?”

I see her clench her hand into a fist, and I smirk.

“I’m sure he’s busy.”

“I happen to love meatballs.” It’s not a lie. I’ve not had them in a long time. Meatballs are not exactly on the restaurant menu.

“Would you like to have dinner with us?”

“Sure.”

Any excuse to prolong my time with her as far as I’m concerned.

“How was school?” Faye asks.

“Good. We’re learning about boring English. Like I care what some dumbasses have in books.”

Faye rubs at her head, looking sad. “You used to love school before.”

“Yeah, well, things change. I’m listening to music now.”

I know what is going on.

I know everything, and yet I have to remain silent or give away the fact I know.

Faye doesn’t say anything for the entire drive back to the apartment. There is always a space near her place, and I park in it once again. Kerry doesn’t linger. She rushes across the street.

The seemingly happy girl I saw last night is long gone.

Faye rushes to follow her, and I keep up with her strides. It’s clear there is more to this woman. She still makes sure the door is closed and doesn’t take the elevator. Walking upstairs, she pauses outside her apartment.

“You don’t have to come inside if you don’t want to. Kerry won’t eat with me.”

“How come?”

“She’s in one of her moods, which means she’ll be listening to her music. She’ll eat food, just in her bedroom.”

“I’ve still got to eat.”

She nods, letting us both in her apartment. Again, I notice how she locks the door. There were six that I counted, each with a heavy bolt.

The apartment’s small.

It’s in a nice part of town, so she clearly went without extra space to be here.

There is already an amazing smell filling the apartment. I walk with her to the kitchen. There’s a small table that would only fit two people. Probably a good thing Kerry won’t be eating with us.

“Take a seat. Do you want some tea, coffee, water?”

“I’ll take a water.”

She pours me a glass before I watch her go to the fridge. She pulls out a bowl, and I see the pasta is already pre-cooked. She has a small microwave, which she places the pasta in. She pushes a couple of buttons, and I don’t see what she’s doing as she manipulates the slow cooker with the bubbling meatballs.

Watching her though, fills me with a sense of calm and promise. She looks so right and sexy. Each time she bends down, I see the ridge of her thong. If I’d known she was wearing them, I wouldn’t have been able to show any kind of restraint. I want her.

So much.

My cock has already started to harden.

Down, boy.

Neither of us speaks, and it’s not awkward either.

The microwave beeps, and she’s mixing the contents of one container into the other. With three plates in front of her, she serves up.

She looks tired, and I feel a little guilty that I caused that. I’d been sending her all over the building today without a thought. I like watching her walk. No support from a bra would ever stop those beauties from bouncing. Her ass is a temptation. I want it beneath me as I drive inside her. To cup the fleshy mounds and hear her moan once again.

The moment I slid inside her silken cunt, I should have known there was no way I’d be able to just have one taste.

This woman is like a fine wine, to be cherished, desired, and to have time taken with her.

Kerry appears the moment dinner is served and gives an excuse of needing to complete homework.

We’re alone again, and I’m more than happy about it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for helping the next generation and all, but Faye and I, we’ve got unfinished business.

She holds two plates in her hands as she comes toward the table. She puts one in front of me and then the other opposite before handing me a fork.

Taking it, I scoop up a meatball and have a taste.

The meat is tender and juicy, and full of flavor.

Faye’s swirling her food around the bowl, every now and then taking a bite.

I don’t like that she’s not eating.

“You’ve got to eat.”

“I am.” Her voice is so soft.

“You’ve got to eat more.” I wait a few seconds to see if she’s even heard me. She doesn’t eat more, and it annoys me. I don’t want her to be sick. “Now.”