Hung (Under Revision)

14: Owned Her

Liam

I had planned to swing by my house to change on our way to the restaurant. But now I realize there's no way in hell we'd ever get to the restaurant. Which isn't something I'd object to. But there's something about Skye.

It's not just that her smile lights me on fire. Or that her laugh fills me up with feeling. She says what she thinks, not caring if it's against what I think. I could never get tired of talking to her.

Every time I see her, my need for her grows. And not just in my pants. Skye needs to understand that, and that's not going to happen if I take her home and fuck her. At least, not without dinner first.

I hold the door of my Range Rover open for her.

"This isn't a Maserati."

"I thought you might approve more of this." I close her door and get in the driver's seat. I didn't have much of a plan for the evening. Skye would be outraged if I took her somewhere nice.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know, what do you feel like eating?"

Skye doesn't say anything, I assume she's thinking about where she wants to go. We drive in silence for a couple of blocks and I ask her again.

"A burger? Mexican? Something fancy?"

"How about someplace fast?" I glance over at her, but she's staring out the windshield. Did I hear her right?

"There's a grilled chicken place just up ahead."

"Sounds ideal."

We pull into the parking lot and I start to feel guilty for bringing her here on our first actual date. But, like she said, it's the fastest option.

The place smells like chargrill and barbecue sauce. It's not very busy, and were led to a small booth off on our own.

It's a good thing she's on the other side of the table, I don't know how much longer I can resist touching her again. I want to hear more of those noises she made back in her studio.

I hardly notice the waiter appear until he speaks. "Good evening, welcome to the Chicken Chums, have you decided?"

"A whole chicken and fries to share."

Good fucking God. Did I really just order that? And on a date? With a woman I actually care about?

"What's the matter?" Skye asks. The look on my face must have been clear.

"I'm at the fucking Chicken Chums."

"Feeling out of place?"

"No, feeling out in public."

"Good thing you ordered the fastest thing on the menu."

"That was the idea."

Our chicken arrives in record time. We talk while we eat, about her leaving Michigan to come pursue her dream of making it as an artist. I tell her about my hotels and how we're moving away from prints in favor of original art in my luxury properties.

The more she talks, the more her voice sounds like angels singing. Opinionated angels, but still. It's great. She's great. I could talk to her all night, if I didn't want to fuck her so bad.

Skye picks at her fries and I pick at my chicken. I've about had enough of this dump.

"Are we done eating yet?" Skye asks.

I look at her and shake my head. This fucking woman is unreal. No. She is real. Unlike all the women I normally date, who are a bunch of plastic 'smile and agree with whatever the billionaire says' robots.