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“I almost forgot it’s the Fourth of July weekend. You’re not planning to watch the fireworks?” She squints at a cat-shaped clock hanging beside her. “Only twenty more minutes to wait.”
“We have our own performance to attend.” I wink.
Grace’s eyes bug out and she nudges me. “Hush.”
The older woman snickers. “Oh, don’t censor yourselves for my benefit. I understand the carnal urges. My Harold was a vigorous lover in his prime.”
“That’s”—I gulp at the bile trying to make a hasty exit—“a pleasant visual.”
Doris beams at me in return. “Would you like dinner before you retire for the evening? Food will boost your energy and stamina.”
Grace gasps. “What’re you serving?”
Her sparked interest speaks to the modest turkey leg we shared earlier. That’s the extent of what our raging hormones allowed us to eat before ditching the fair. I curse my inability to take care of my girl’s needs. That gives me pause.My girl?Where did that come from?
Doris hums to wrench me from those thoughts. “Tacos and such. There’s plenty left if you’re hungry.”
A chuckle rises from me. “Can she take hers to go? I’ll eat it later.”
Grace tucks her chin to hide the blush staining her cheeks. “You’re so bad.”
Our host is none the wiser. “Is that a yes for the tacos?”
“I think we’re okay,” Grace rushes to say before I can suggest otherwise. “My appetite is craving something sweeter.”
“Now who’s bad?” I mumble under my breath.
Like the classy lady Doris is, she mistakes Grace’s saucy comment for a legitimate request. “Would you like to see our dessert tray?”
My fast pace is more appropriate for rushing through an airport to catch a flight. The empty hallway mocks me, appearing like a shadowed track that doesn’t end. I almost stumble over the desperation burning through me. A curse slips from my pressed lips. The lead pipe in my pants makes the hustle that much more of a challenge.
Visuals from the dining table are chasing me. Who fucking knew watching Grace eat pie would be the worst type of torture. The slow, seductive way she licked chocolate from the fork plays on a loop. The sight was reminiscent of her first time at Roosters when she tongued the cherry I’d plopped in her drink. Something about this woman and food is an extreme aphrodisiac.
Her moans were the tipping point. I hauled her off that chair and toward salvation while she was still chewing. If I don’t get relief soon, I’m at risk of a trip to the hospital for this seemingly permanent erection. Those blue pills don’t have shit on Grace’s potency. I squeeze her hand that’s securely clasped in mine and push onward.
“What’s the hurry?” Her giggle is a languid stroke to my cock.
“Delayed gratification isn’t my preferred foreplay,” I grumble.
She hums while sucking whipped cream off her finger. “That French silk was really tasty.”
My vision blurs as I fight the urge to fuck her against the wall. “Couldn’t tell.”
Grace laughs again. “Don’t be a grumpy Gus.”
“I’ll be much happier once my mouth is latched onto your pussy.”
She trips over my words and teeters into me. “Oh.”
Now I’m the one chuckling. “We’re on the same page.”
“You, um, actually want to do that?”
I slam on the brakes at the uncertainty in her voice. “Was I not descriptive enough in the maze?”
Her gaze searches mine. “You were, but I figured that might’ve just been talk to get me agreeable again.”
I feed my instincts and press her flat against the wall, towering over her until our lips nearly meet. “Trust me, soulmate. I don’t make empty promises, especially to you. I’m gonna eat your pussy until you beg me to stop.”
