Page 6 of His Carrot Her Muffin

I wanted to taste them so bad, my mouth was watering. Shit. I was leaking precum and hoping like fuck the stain wouldn’t show through my shorts. Last thing I wanted was for her to know how desperately I was dying to fuck her. And not just fuck. Rena was the one who got away, and this right here, well, this was the Fates giving us another shot.

She might not know it or understand what I was about to propose, but Morena Grimaldi would not get away from me again. This time, I was going to get her addicted to me. This time, she wouldn’t leave me with a note that said being with me wasa mistake, and she never wanted to see me again, breaking my teenaged heart. No. This time I would have all the control.

Yeah. Riiiigghhhhhht.

I ignored the voice in the back of my head, that for some reason sounded a whole lot like Kronk, even as it sneered and laughed at my arrogance. As usual, when it came to her, my body took precedence, controlling my brain. All my body knew was that it wanted Rena with a fire that was burning out of control.

“The weekend, at least, right?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding.

“Then this is my proposition. You spend the weekend with me.”

“Spend the weekend with you? That’s it. What’s the catch?” she asked.

“No catch, Morena. Just spend the weekend with me. Oh, but you can only wear that negligee or nothing at all, understand?” I ask, but it is really not a question.

“What? No!”

“Alright, if that is what you want, I will call the Kent Township Police Department right now and inform them of this break in. I am sure they will want to take you in right away, in that,” I told her, lifting my cell phone to my ear.

“No! Stop! Ohmygawd,” she grumbled, her Jersey City accent coming in strong with her increased temper.

Fuck. She was cute.

“Fine, you fucking jerk. I will spend the weekend with you wearing this,” she growled.

“No covering up either,” I warned, looking at her hands still clutching at her pussy and tits.

“You sonova—” Rena growled and dropped her hands, stomping her foot like she used to whenever she was angry.

The resulting jiggle sent spikes of desire rocketing through my body. This is going to be good, that same heat we always had rekindled in my gut. Yes, this was going to be very good. Not just for me, either, but for us. I knew it the second I saw her again.

Sixteen years had passed since the last time I saw Rena Grimaldi, but she was here now. Still perfect. Still mine. And I was going to take what was mine. She didn’t know it yet. She didn’t understand what I was proposing.

I had a mere few days to convince Rena what I always knew was true. We belonged together. I was not a teenager to be controlled by my parents any longer. I was a man. Successful. Rich. And used to getting what I wanted. But the only thing I ever really wanted was her.

Maybe there really is a Santa Claus, I thought to myself, licking my lips as I looked her over.

Something bright and orange caught my eye. It was the carrot she dropped on the table. I grinned, deciding to up the ante. This woman made me feel things no other woman ever had, but there was something else I wanted besides a weekend with her writhing beneath, or on top, of me.

“Oh, one more thing,” I said, a wicked grin spreading across my face. “You have to bake me an entire tray of homemade muffins.”

“Muffins?” she asked, confusion clear on her almost too pretty face.

“Carrot muffins,” I clarified, watching her gaze flare with understanding.

CHAPTER SEVEN- MORENA

Ijogged behind Jeremy,aka the asshole, with all my jiggly bits on full display for the fucker as we made our way down the short path to the back door of the Kent’s mansion. The glances he kept casting behind him ensured I knew he was watching. I’d never actually been inside his house, except for sneaking into his bedroom once or twice.

Ah, to be young again—ugh, gag.

My mouth dropped open as I took in the rich furniture and polished interior. I knew he had money, but this place screamed old money. Heavily polished furniture, marble floors, and dark wood paneling filled my vision. It looked more like a museum than a house. I was actually afraid to touch anything.

“Ignore the mess,” he said.

“What mess?” I mumbled, and Jeremy shook his blond head and made a chuffing sound.

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