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She makes this little moaning sound when I suck on her tongue just the way she likes. Her warm skin is pressed against mine. She tastes so good on my lips. The smell of her brown sugar and cinnamon hair and skin wraps around me. I can never get enough of it. Being here with her like this in front of the whole town is perfect. Being anywhere with her is perfect.
In a rush, she pulls back from me, slapping her hands against my chest. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” I ask, a little dazed.
“They’re announcing the winners for the baking contest. Let’s go, kid.” Lily grins up at me. “You may as well find out sooner rather than later if you’re going to be spending a lot of solo time with your hand.” When she wriggles her cute, little fingers at me again, all I can think about is how good that hand always feels pulling on my dick.
She needs to win this fucking pie contest or I’m going to die from sexual frustration. How long could she really hold out to torture me? One night? Not more than two days. Fuck, what if it’s a whole week?
I follow along, mind spinning, as Lily tugs me towards the far end of the barn where the desserts sit on long tables.
The mayor of Western Springs, Landon Gladue, is standing at a microphone announcing the winners, trying to be heard over top of the country band playing at the other end of the barn. Landon’s a good guy. He went to high school with Lily and Jacks.
Lily’s jaw drops when her name is called. “Holy shit. Holy shit. I came in fourth…”
“And how are you feeling about that?” I ask, trying to gauge her reaction.
Lily doesn’t answer me, repeating it again. “I came in fourth.”
“Babe, I really need you to tell me if that’s a good thing or not.” I have a vested interest in knowing if I’m going to be coming in my hand instead of coming in Lily’s perfect pussy for the foreseeable future.
Lily slaps her hand against my chest, hard enough to sting. “I came in fourth! I came in fourth! It’s amazing!”
She throws her arms around my neck, but I’m already leaning down to pick her up. I grab her around the waist, pinning her against me with my good arm and spinning us around. Then I put her back down on her feet and kiss her again.
When I eventually lift my head from hers, Jacks and Selena are walking over to us.
Jacks’ eyes are wide and he’s slowly shaking his head.
“Careful, Selena’s pissed,” he whispers to us.
“Why are you mad? Didn’t you hear I came in fourth?”
“That pie deserved first place,” Selena mutters. “It was perfect. Just like I taught you. Flaky, buttery crust. No puffed-up top. Perfectly cooked filling. Perfectly spiced. Not too sweet. Just the right amount of cinnamon. It was freaking perfect.”
“You should go tell that to the judges,” I tell her, grinning when Jacks glares at me for egging her on.
“Oh, I already did.” Selena’s eyes are wide, and a lot crazy. “They said I’m not welcome near the judging table for the rest of the night. Well, there’s a certain bakery on Grove Street that none of those judges are welcome in.”
“Careful, people in a small town know how to hold a grudge. And apparently how they like their pie,” I say with a laugh. As long as Lily’s happy, I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about her apple pie. I know Lily’s apple pie is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
“Shut it. You are not helping.” Jacks shoves me lightly on the shoulder. Thankfully of my good arm or he’d have to deal with my Lemon.
“Helping with what? Getting a review of these judges? Is there an appeal process or something? The whole thing’s rigged as far as I can tell. They probably have something against California-style pie,” Jasper says as he walks up.
“Whose ass are we kicking? Far as I can tell, Lily was robbed,” Jensen asks, looking ready to fight.
Jacks rolls his eyes as he keeps one arm firmly wrapped around Selena’s shoulders.
“What’s this I hear about an ass-kicking?” Jarret asks, walking up eating a slice of pie.
“That had better be Lily’s pie,” Selena nearly shouts at him.
“No one’s eating Lemon’s apple pie, but me,” I mutter before I can think better if it.
“I will kill you, kid,” Lily warns, digging her nails into my arm.
“I already know I don’t want to know,” Jacks says, eyes on the barn rafters overhead.
