“This is going to be fucking awesome.”
“I can’t do it,” I growl, feeling frustrated when another fish gets away from me. “Can’t I like stab it or something? This is boring.”
Nok blinks at me slowly. “You mean like spear fishing?”
I nod. “Duh. Isn’t that something your people do?”
“Not anymore but once, I guess. We’d need spears.”
“Or just really sharp sticks with a kind of hook on the end.”
He mutters under his breath about ungrateful women and their abuse of fishing and lack of skill.
“That’s sexist,” I point out playfully.
He grins at me over his shoulder as he finds a long enough stick for me to utilize. Meanwhile, I sit and enjoy the misty, cool air while sipping warm coffee he brought with him.
“So, do you know what I realized this morning?” I ask him and he grumbles, “What?”
“I don’t know what you do for a living for you to have such a fancy-ass truck.”
He raises his brows, clearly surprised. “I’ve never told you?”
“No, you have, I’m lying so you tell me again.” My sarcasm goes over so well. Not.
He picks up a five-foot-long branch that’s straight for the most part and tosses it my way. I sit cross-legged on the ground and balance it over my thigh before starting to carve at one end with my knife.
“You’re very handy for a girl.”
“Sexism,” I singsong, concentrating on my craft.
“Whatever.” He dips his hook back into the water, standing on the bank with parted thighs and a strong posture. “I take people out into the woods to hunt and do survival role-play for a place on the res. It’s fun. I get to keep the truck so long as I look after it.”
I yank on my collar to loosen it; it suddenly feels itchy around my throat. “Sorry about that.”
“I deserved it,” he admits with genuine sincerity for the first time since it happened. He has said it before but it just didn’t ring true. This time, however, I sense, feel, and hear his remorse. I’m growing on him. He’s starting to care about me. “I deserved worse.”
“You’re just saying that because I saved your reputation.”
“You’re going to be smug about that forever, aren’t you?” I can hear the smile in his voice, he’s clearly happy about what I did. He likes my psychotic side, so long as he’s not on the receiving end of it.
He suddenly appears at my back and his legs open around me. The fishing rod is still in his hand, though he’s holding it out of the way, so I don’t accidentally cut the line while chiseling away at my stick.
“I wish we could just come out here every day,” I murmur when his chest touches my back and I can lean into him.
“You enjoy it?”
“It’s the most peaceful I think I’ve ever felt.” I tilt my head back, stopping my whittling for a moment so I can look at him and not cut myself. “Minus the fact you’re here of course.”
“Oh, ha ha,” he deadpans and presses a sweet kiss to my lips as though it’s his right to do so. “You have the sweetest lips I have ever tasted, the sharpest tongue, and the evilest eyes— ouch.”
I hit him for that last one.
“I don’t have evil eyes.”
I so do but that doesn’t mean anyone else can say it.
“You have the worst case of resting bitch face I have ever seen in my life.” His mischievous smile shows his perfect teeth.
“I don’t have resting bitch face, Nokosi Locklear.” I drop my knife and the stick and turn so I’m on my knees on the soft picnic blanket that has seen better days. “I simply have bitch face.”
Smiling, I bite his lip, something I love doing. I decide, what with this being the second time I’ve done it and already I’m wishing for a third. If only to watch his eyes open and then narrow as my bite gets harder and harder, until he growls at me and his pupils expand beyond full dilation.
I just know he’s hard, I can see the swell in his groin, but then he’s always hard around me. Something else I take great pleasure in.
I’m sadistic.
When I free his lip, he nudges me with another kiss, and in one swift move, he flips me so I’m on my back and he’s towering over me. I’m slightly winded but I don’t have time to gather my breath or wits because he’s kissing me so hard my head is crushed to the ground.
He consumes me greedily, the manly taste of him and a slight hint of coffee, tinged with passion, desire, and the kind of guy that even at a young age knows exactly what he wants and how to get it, it all sends me wild.
“How did you get so good at this?” I ask when he kisses down my neck.
“I’ve seduced a lot of women,” he replies easily, and I feel a strange pang of envy and possessiveness. Something I’ve never felt, and I don’t like it. “My first time was a mess, it was embarrassing. I taught myself to be better. What about you? How’d you get so good at giving head?”
I chuckle under my breath and try to look away, but he holds my face with his hand.
“Tell me.”
“No, you’ll make fun of me.”
He arches a thick brow and trails his nose along the side of mine. “Since when do you care about that?”
He has me there. “I don’t care.”
“Then how?” He kisses me again, a gentle peck. Fuck me, this guy has a sweet side. I like it. I shouldn’t like it.
“I practiced, like you.”
His eyes darken and I wonder if he’s envious too. “On men?”
“No, well… yes, but first my sister and I—”
“You practiced with your sister?” He drops his head to my neck when I nod. “Why do I find that so hot?” Then his head rises again, and his excited eyes search my face. “So, your sister can deep-throat too?”
My entire body turns to cement, and I push him from me. “I don’t want to talk about my sister or deep-throating. I want to make my spear and fish.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He returns to his chair as I continue to whittle. Truth be told I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing but I figure so long as it’s pointy and sharp, it’ll kill a fish.
We sit in comfortable silence and I like it. Nok isn’t one for words and neither am I. I don’t want to gossip or talk about shit that doesn’t need to be said. I’m not interested in that.
I just want to enjoy the silence and turn my stick into a fish-murdering weapon.
“You’re nearly done,” Nok comments, looking at my long pointy stick. “It looks good. Want to test it out?”
“Sure, stand still and I’ll jab you through the foot.”
He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching.
I move to the rushing water and follow it upstream to a shallower part where I can see the bottom. Fish swim through the crystal-like waters, kicking up sandy dirt, nothing too big and that’s what I’m waiting for, big. If I’m going to take something I caught, it better be newsworthy.
I stand on the bank and stare down. I do a couple of practice jabs into the surface of the water, just to see how accurate the location of the fish is, as water distorts your view. It bounces the angle of the stick to the left somewhat, so I’ll try to account for that.