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“On second thought, I don’t want to know,”Irecant. “Where did we go afterward?”
“Oh! Guys! Ice cream!” Percy shouts as she scurries up to the cart. Mysti and her ladyboy Dion follow, and Becky and Liam trail behind.
I decide to partake as well. I play it safe and order some chocolate ice cream. Mysti gets some mango-flavored stuff; Not-Celine Dion gets lychee soft serve that actually looks pretty good; and Becky and Liam get some durian stuff.
And then we have Percy with her indulgent, extra self.
Instead of getting something relatively normal she gets this disgusting, lumpy corn-flavored ice cream.
“Do I even want to know if that is any good?” I ask, trying not to gag as I see her lick around the side of her cone.
“It’s marvelous. And the best part?”
She opens her mouth and shows me several kernel chunks on her tongue.
“Oh, ew! Seriously?”
“Fucking brilliant, isn’t it? Too bad we don’t have this back in the US!”
“It looks like yellow cottage cheese,” I comment, deciding to return my attention to my own ice cream before I lose my appetite.
I have to admit, the ice cream was a good idea. The cold, icy treat feels amazing right now. The creamy chocolate is smooth, and overall, it helps to take the edge off the heat and humidity.
While the ice cream is nice, it does make me long for any other relief to couple with. It’s just so hot, it’s hard to concentrate.
“Let’s go over there,” I suggest. “The sun is melting my ice cream faster than I can eat it.”
The group huddles together in the shadow of a small shop to get out from under the sun’s glaring rays.
We may be out of the pot, but we’re all still in the fucking fire. But at least now we can finish our food and focus on our mission.
“There has to be some way to figure out what we did after the cabaret last night,” Liam pipes up. He thinks hard to himself, staring off to the ground below. “Percy! What if we were to message Lock? I’m—”
“No. No Lock. We will not call him. Will not speak of him. We will not even think of him. Got it?” I snarl, shutting down his entire suggestion before I even hear it.
The knowing look I’m getting from all of them right now has me wishing I had that flashy pen thing fromMen in Blackso that I could wipe their memories of Lock having his way with my pussy under the table.
But the feeling of his tongue against my dripping pussy lips returns to my own memory, and now I’ve gone and made the mistake of letting myself recall our entire ‘Tina Turner’ set.
The incredible, passionate kiss we shared at the table…I’ve never been kissed like that.
Ever. Not by Eggs. Not by anyone.
And again, with his lips and tongue on my wet, aching cunt under the table. I just can’t help but remember that now. That man is a master with that mouth of his. He had me practically turning to jelly in the palm of his hand.
No, Sammi! Stop it. Do not fall down this rabbit hole. Eat your ice cream. Think cold, frigid thoughts.
And yet I feel this longing sensation from my gut to my pussy.
It’s hard not to want more. It’s hard to not want Lockhere. And that’s a fucking problem.
Why the fuck did this have to go and happen to me? Why can’t shit ever be fucking simple? Why do I keep drinking tequila?
“What about your tattoo?” Mysti asks as she shoves an arm at me. Her elbow nudge and words bring me back to the present.
“What about what?” I reply, foggy and lost from what’s actually going on.
“Your tattoo. It looks super intense. Like maybe only a handful of people could do it, that kind of thing?” she leads on, trying to get somewhere, anywhere with it.
