Chapter 34

One of the boys at our table overheard and sighed. “You lucky dog,” he said enviously. “I wish I could get my johns to talk to me that way.”

I smiled and patted his shoulder, but I could have burst with pride. This was my guy, not some john.

Wills, meanwhile, was oblivious. A waiter had come by with filled glasses, and he’d taken two. He selected a fresh peach from a bowl in the center of the table and sat down, sliding down onto his spine. I knew that under the table his legs would be sprawled apart, and I licked my lips, but the taste of his come had been replaced by the sharp bite of the mint.

“What are you planning?”

He grinned up at me through his lashes, picked up a paring knife, and sliced into the peach. It was plump and juicy, and the juice ran down his fingers. The first slice he dropped into my glass, the second into his, and the third he offered to me. I held his hand steady and licked his fingers, then bit into the slice. The juice dribbled down my chin.