Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

32. The L Word

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When not at work, I spent the rest of the week either talking to Striker over the phone or preparing for his next visit. I had picked out a nice restaurant just inside the Pentagram for a date idea, and I stocked up on snacks and cooking essentials . . . and bedroom essentials.

On Monday, the day before he was supposed to come visit, I cleaned my apartment practically from top to bottom. I scrubbed nearly every inch of the bathroom, put away any clutter in the living room and bedroom, and even vacuumed the carpeting. I went to bed late that night exhausted but quite proud of what I'd accomplished. That much cleaning didn't get done very often.

All it took was a sexy cowboy saying he was coming over to see me.

I ended up sleeping until around noon the next day, when I was rudely awoken by my phone ringing. I groaned, assuming it was my boss asking if I could pick up another extra shift, and blindly reached for the phone on my nightstand. Finding it, I held the device to my ear and mumbled a sleepy, "Hello?"

"Mornin', sugar cube," said the familiar voice on the other end. "You gonna let me in?"

My eyes immediately opened, and my mind snapped awake as I clambered out of bed. "I-I'm sorry, I'm coming!"

I quickly rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stumbled through my apartment to the front door. Taking a deep breath, I smoothed down the robe I'd slipped on and brushed my fingers through my bedhead, then opened the door to see Striker leaning against the doorframe. He was clad in blue jeans and brown cowboy boots, his signature red bandana hanging from his neck. His black short-sleeved shirt was rather form-fitting, perfectly accentuating his toned arms and torso.

"Mmm," I hummed, blatantly looking him over. "What's cookin', good-lookin'?"

He snickered. "Did I wake you up, or are we havin' a lazy day in?"

"You woke me," I replied. "But we can stay in today if you want. I'm cool either way, honestly."

He stepped past me through the threshold and propped his black case against the wall by the door. "Didn't you have a place picked out for dinner?"

"Yeah. But, I mean, we can go tomorrow night." I stepped toward him, snaking my arms around his neck. "I think I want you all to myself right now."

Striker smirked, his hands travelling down to my ass. "Already in the mood, huh?"

I smiled sleepily and rested my cheek on his chest. "Not really."

He chuckled. "Still tired?"

"A little, yeah," I said. "They managed to convince me to work overtime this past week. But I'll be fine."

He lifted his hands up to my lower back and craned his head close to my ear. "Go lay down on the couch. I'm gonna go get settled."

My smile widened for a second, and I nodded and did as told. Snatching up the throw blanket in my old rocker, I flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. I heard Striker enter the bathroom, and he stayed in there for a minute before coming into the living room. I folded my legs closer to myself to make room for him, and he bent down to lift my tail out of the way and took a seat.

"Work really wore me out this week," I said, staring at the TV. "I'm sorry if I don't feel up to doing very much."

I felt his hand rest on the thick of my tail, and after a moment it slid upward to my hip. His fingers lightly squeezed the flesh on my side over my clothes. "C'mere."

I glanced at him. His eyes looked down at me calmly, glowing softly in the natural light peeking in through the blinds. I sat up and shifted over to his side, and he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer. I flipped the TV to a human sitcom and laid my head on his shoulder. After a while, Striker brought his face to the top of my head, and I could hear him quietly inhale the scent of my hair.