Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

“I won’t be in town long.”
That shuts me up for a good thirty seconds. I become
aware that we’ve both leaned closer toward each other over
the table and are locked in a tense little bubble to the exclusion
of everyone and everything else, but I feel oddly powerless to
resist.
Now I understand how moths feel around open flames.
“Why did you buy a house here if you’re not going to
stay?”
“I already told you that.”
He reaches across the table. Slowly and gently, he skims
his thumb over my cheekbone and down to my jaw, his heated
gaze following the path of his finger.
Goose bumps break out all over my arms. My nipples
tingle. I lick my lips, fighting dueling urges to lunge across the
table and kiss him or run away screaming.
This is insane. You’re too sensible for this. Get up from the
table and walk away.
I manage to ignore the voice of reason in my head. “How
long will you be here?”
“A few days. I need to kiss you.”
“No.” It’s faint and not altogether convincing.
“Then come sit on my lap and let me finger fuck you while
I feed you dinner.”
To manage the explosion of shock and lust that astonishing
sentence caused in my body, I sit back abruptly in my chair
and look away, choking out a disbelieving laugh.
“It must be all the champagne I’ve had. There’s no
possible way you just said that.”
“I said it. And you liked it.” After a pause, he demands,
“Look at me.”
“I can’t. This is crazy. I’ve known you for twenty-four
hours. No one has ever spoken to me like that before in my