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That said, her enthusiasm seems to go much further than just these being tasty. I can’t help but wonder when this gorgeous, curvy beauty was last properly fucked. Come on, a woman who has a man who knows how to satisfy her doesn’t have this extreme reaction to food. If she isn’t getting any or if her guy is a complete moron incapable of giving her mind-blowing orgasms, then maybe this is the only way for her to get any pleasure. Crying shame, if you ask me. Sure, vibrators are great and get the job done, so I’ve been told, and fingers can relieve some tension, but nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to the way I voraciously eat a woman’s pussy. When I’m into you, I’ll lick, suck and flick your little clit until you come screaming all over my tongue. End of story.
She must notice me staring, because she blushes. “What?” I ask innocently.
“The way you’re looking at me... it’s so intense.”
“I’m sorry. I was just wondering if I was game to go and buy another one,” I say, pointing to my empty plate. Since it’s partially true, it’s not a lie, right?
“You can’t possibly be serious.”
“I’m six-five, I work on a ranch and I’m very physically active.” I’ll spare you the real details of my sex life since I’ve been back to LA. “Trust me, I totally could, but I just noticed a guy walking around with a giant ice cream sandwich and I think I’ll leave room for that instead.”
“Those must be from Heavenly Moo Creamery. They usually have an ice cream truck parked over there,” she says, turning around to the far left corner of the market. “I can’t even finish half of one of those. They’re way too massive for me. And now with half a sausage in my stomach, I couldn’t even think of having more than a bite or two.”
God, I love the fact that she’s a woman who’s not afraid to eat.
“Tell you what.”
“What?” she asks excitedly, sitting a little straighter on her chair.
“Why don’t we both head over there, I’ll buy one”—I pause to make sure I have her full attention—“and you can nibble on mine.”
She raises her eyebrow. This girl is so sharp, I know I can’t pull a fast one on her. “There’s something slightly perverted about the way you said that, Mr. Evans.” Oh, you have no idea. “But it’s such a tempting offer, there’s no way I can refuse.”
“Awesome. Let’s do it.”
This entire conversation since we sat here to eat gives a whole new meaning to food porn.
* * *
After our out-of-this-world dessert, we continue hopping from one food merchant to another, chatting, laughing and buying up a storm. Within an hour, we’re so weighed down with groceries Miranda needs a break. She drops everything at her feet and rummages through her backpack.
“You’ve been keeping me so entertained, I lost track of time,” she says, turning on her iPhone. “Yikes. I have to go.”
“Already?” I can hear the disappointment in my voice.
“I’m having so much fun, I’d love to stay a little longer, Hunter, but I have a big fancy party I’m attending tonight with my best friend and I still don’t have a dress—or shoes, for that matter. Not to mention I have to get my hair done. My hair appointment is in an hour in Venice Beach—if I can make it there on time.”
I hate to see her go, but when I look at the time on my phone, I realize to my great surprise that it’s already one o’clock. I got here around nine this morning and I must’ve bumped into Miranda fifteen to twenty minutes after I arrived, so I’ve been walking around the market with this amazing woman for the past three and a half hours. Time just flew by. “I understand. Where are you parked?”
“I didn’t come by car—”
“Where should I drop you off?” I retort without giving her a chance to finish her sentence. I’m not letting her go this easily.
“I’m okay. I have my bike in the parking lot.”
I frown and look at all the bags at her feet and then my own hands, weighed down by her purchases. “Miranda, you’ll tip over. There’s no way your bike will hold you and all this food.”
“It’s okay.” She lowers her eyes, looking around her, taking stock of reality. “Maybe you’re right. I should call a cab instead.”
Oh, no, you don’t.
“Listen, since I got you fresh new oranges, we shared what turned out to be a sensual—I mean, succulent—meal”—she smiles at my joke—“and I’ve been roaming around this market with you all morning, the least you can do is accept my offer. We’ll put your bike in my SUV and we can line the back seat and the trunk with all of your groceries.”
Her gaze is fixated on me again. “Ride with you?” She folds her lower lip into her mouth, pondering. Goddammit, every time she does this, I just want to take her mouth into mine without asking permission.
“Yes, ride me.”
“Huh?” She frowns. “What did you just say?”
