CHAPTER 6
Carl
Belle’s working up the nerve to ask me upstairs. There is a look in her eyes when she peeks at me above the rim of her cup: a shy heat, but definite and strong.
The very sight of her quiet struggle to get the words out affects me like warm fingertips on the shaft of my c**k: a tease, sweet and slow, and building over time until I have to adjust myself under the cafe table. But I know better than to push the issue. The knowledge that she’s on her way to asking and just needs time satisfies me.
There’s something else I should address. “Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Huh?” She looks startled; I fight a smile and look back at her. She’s an open book: too open, if anything. Whenever she looks away from me, something haunting takes hold of her again, and sadness di
