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“It’s been a great few months.” Her gaze flicks down my bare chest to my suit pants and back up again, her naughty grin returning. “And a great night.”
“So great,” I agree, curling my fingers around her hip and pulling her close.
“You know, just because I can’t go home with you,” she begins, looping her arms around my neck, “doesn’t mean you can’t stay the night here if you want. We could sleep in, have lazy morning sex, and when we wake up, we can order pie and coffee delivered from this super cute shop on the corner.”
I admit I’m relieved. At first, I thought she was a see-you-later-er. Or a wham bam-thank-you-sir-er. But what she’s describing suits my speed these days.
“Sounds perfect.” I cup her ass as I bend, brushing my lips over hers, electricity bristling across my skin as we touch.
And then her scent is flooding my head again—flowers and spice, now with a top note of sex. She smells like a woman who’s been thoroughly ravaged, salty and sticky and oh so sweet.
I forget about everything but making her come for me again, this time with her hands braced on the kitchen sink while I play with her tits and take her from behind, whispering filthy things about how good her tight, wet little pussy feels on my cock when I’m fucking her. Promising I’m going to fuck her until she can’t stand upright on her own.
And I always keep my promises.
We’re up until nearly four a.m., and by the time I wake in the morning, Gigi’s gone.
But there’s a note on her pink flamingo sheets.
Delivery was going to take 45 minutes, so I ran down the street to get coffee and pie myself. Be back in a jiff. Feel free to leave your clothes off. My coconut cream is delicious licked off all the places I want to lick you. Xo -Gigi
Grinning, I swing my legs out of bed and hurry to throw on my clothes, determined to dash across the street to my shop to grab some tea and be back in this bed naked before Gigi returns.
I adore that woman and can’t wait to taste her pie, but I won’t drink coffee for anyone—no matter how tight and sweet her pussy or delightful her company.
On a hook in the front hall, I find a key hanging from a Rosie the Riveter keychain. I make sure it works for the front door then take the stairs to the ground floor two at a time.
I’m already across the street—thank you light Sunday morning traffic—and unlocking the shop when the texts start coming in—
*shocked emoji face*
*angry emoji face*
*head exploding emoji face*
*GIF of cat hissing at the camera*
*GIF of woman screaming “betrayed” as she rolls down a hill covered in snow*
*GIF of a stick-figure man approaching a stick-figure woman with knife, man says “here hold this,” stabs knife in girl’s stomach, turns and walks away*
“What the…” Scowling, I scroll up to the number. The one I entered last night.
My stomach drops.
I look up to see Gigi standing across the street, looking adorable in a pair of red overalls and a white T-shirt with her hair tied up in a red and white polka dot scarf. She has a paper bag, which I assume holds pie, looped over her arm and a cardboard tray with two coffees in one hand. With the other, she’s texting a mile a minute.
Texting and glaring at me with murder in her eyes.
7
GIGI
West looks baffled.
Beautiful and baffled, but I’m not buying the innocent act for a second.
No wonder he wanted to steal me away for a sex marathon. To overdose me on orgasms so I wouldn’t realize he’s the villain who bought the shop across the street.
“What’s wrong?” he calls, lifting his phone, his expression confused. “Why are you virtually rolling down a hill covered in snow?"
Ha! As if he doesn’t know.
He could have picked any moment between arriving at my place last night and when I promised him pie early this morning to reveal that he’s the owner of the evil tea shop across the street.
Instead, he kept that information to himself.
Probably so he could spy on me, eat my delicious pie, and steal the recipe. Because if his tongue is half as fluent in pie ingredients as it is in orgasms, reverse engineering by taste would be a snap for him.
I can see it now, his plan to sus out the competition. And I was so clueless and trusting and drunk on orgasms and unicorn peen that I missed the opportunity to take similar advantage of him.
I mean, for research, I could choke down his horrible hard English scones or meat pies or whatever gross thing he’s going to sell over there. But I won’t have a chance now, will I? Because he lied to me and deceived me, just like every other guy I’ve seriously dated.
