“I have a feeling that’s not true,” she said. “With all that muscle, you can probably eat anything and you would just burn it off.”
I guided her down a couple streets until we reached the gelato shop. “A friend of mine owns this.”
“You keep good company.”
I took her inside and let her look at the flavors. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know…they all look good.” She inched down the glass case as she examined all the flavors. “I’ll do grape and the salted caramel…in a large cup.”
I paid for her order, and then we took a seat outside in the shade so she could eat it. With her legs crossed and her back perfectly straight, she scooped into the creamy dessert and placed the spoon in her mouth before she licked it clean.
I sat there and watched her, noticing the way she ate her sweets the way she licked the come off the head of my dick.
She continued to eat, oblivious to the way it turned me on.
When my jeans finally felt too tight, I turned my gaze elsewhere and people-watched.
“This is delicious.”
“Yeah?” I asked, mildly amused.
“You should try it.”
“I know what it tastes like.”
“So you’re really not going to eat sweets for the rest of your life?”
I shrugged. “I’ll have some cake on our wedding day.”
She stilled. “And that’s it?”
My eyes turned back to her. “Yeah.”
“What if it’s bad cake?”
“Why would we have bad cake on our wedding day?” I asked with a slight smile.
“I just wouldn’t want you to waste it on cake if that isn’t the best cake in the world, you know? Like, this gelato is top-notch. If you’re going to spend your freebie on something, it should be this.”
“I don’t need anything sweeter than you, baby.”
“Huh?” she asked, not understanding what I meant.
I smirked as I watched the understanding slowly move into her face.
“Okay, this isa lotbetter than that.”
“Difference of opinion.”
She avoided my gaze for a while and continued to eat her gelato. “I’m gonna have to start working out if I keep eating like this.”
“We could just have more sex.”
“I think we’re pretty maxed out.”
“Another difference of opinion.”
We walked together down the street after another dinner, Francesca wearing sky-high stilettos and a little black dress. Herarm was hooked through mine, but her gait slowed to a crawl. “These heels will be the death of me.”
