Dim Sum Asylum(93)

I was surprisingly calm as I stared down at my future. Things weren’t less complicated than they were a few weeks ago. If anything, Trent added another layer of humanity I was going to have to deal with, but as I lay against him, I found I liked the feel of him in my life.

“Yeah, I think so,” I replied, leaning my head back for a kiss. “It’s good. We’re good. Sure, things are going to get a little crazy, but hey, we work in Dim Sum Asylum. They’re bound to get a little hairy… and scaly… possibly even chewed on a bit.”

Trent had fewer reservations about how well we’d fit onto the couch together, because one moment I was sitting up and the next I was flat on my back with his knees on either side of my hips. His odd warmth-chill was nice… more than nice… on my skin, and when his hand skimmed under my shirt, pulling it up to expose my stomach, my body hummed at his touch. I felt the marks on my back respond, the ambient glow of my wings flaring up around me, and Trent traced over my ribs and up my arm, playing with the aurora flickering under me.

His kiss was as hot as the feel of his hard body pressing into mine, and I quickly revised my ideas about how small the couch was. Trent’s weight on me was an erotic delight, and my skin sang in response to his tongue laving my throat. His cock was already half-primed, and when I cupped him, teasing him through his jeans, he groaned with pleasure, deepening his growl when I squeezed his heft.

“Gods, I love this. Love doing this with you. Hell, I lo—” He caught himself, probably seeing my head jerk up and feeling my hands still in their exploration of his body. “I’m not going to say I’m sorry for how I feel, Roku. My life’s been too… spare. Not enough people who get me like you do, and I’m not going to apologize for wanting you like I do.”

“No, it’s all good,” I replied, working my fingers through his hair, then pulling him down into a kiss. “I’m not going to apologize for it either—how I want you. How I feel about you. I don’t care if Gaines knows about us. I don’t care who knows. Might be a bit shitty for you because, you know, loving me means you’ve got a target on your back for some people, but if that’s a risk you’re willing to take, then I’m willing to carve up any asshole who tries to take you away from me. In true Takahashi and… whatever assassin clan my grandmother belongs to… fashion.”

“So we’re good, then?” Trent teased, nibbling at the corner of my lips. “And as much as I want to get us over to that bed over there, I’ve got to ask one thing.”

“Sure.” I rested my head on the couch’s arm. “What?”

“Why’s your cat humping my shoe?” He sideways nodded to where Bob straddled one of his leather sneakers, kicking at it with her back legs in an odd thumping beat as she licked around the shoe’s opening. “And since when do cats have forked tongues?”

“Yeah, about that.” I clasped his face in my hands, guiding him back to look at me. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you about Bob the Cat.”





More from Rhys Ford





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