Page 22 of Wrong Number, Right Unicorn

“She told me I’d find a unicorn, one to call my own.”

I was speechless. Had we been foretold?

“I was sad because when I got older, my friends laughed, saying unicorns weren’t real.” He sniffed, and his eyes filled with tears.

Wrapping my arms around him, his chest pressed against me, and our hearts thumped in tandem.

“When I turned eighteen, I got this tattoo so I would have a unicorn with me until I took my last breath.”

My mind was racing as I rested my chin on Errol’s head. Grams gave him my number and she had seen unicorns, telling him a unicorn would be his constant companion. He wasn’t just my fated. Had the goddess chosen him personally? There was no way to prove it. I didn’t have a hotline to the goddess.

Errol pulled away, leaving a damp patch on my shirt. He wiped his tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand.

“I should go.” He sniffed.

Of course, he had to get back to Grams. “What if I said I wanted you to stay?”

He raised his hand. “I vote for that.” He added that tonight was his night off and a neighbor was staying with his grandmother.

I had a better idea than us being in the living room surrounded by globs of icing and a broken cake. Taking his hand, I drew him into the bedroom.

“Wait.” I raced back and grabbed the cake; pairing it with sexy times was the perfect combination.

“Is this a thing? Eating in the bedroom instead of the kitchen or living room?”

He grinned, and I kissed the smile away until he was moaning, saying into his mouth, “There will be eating, I guarantee it.”

Errol pulled me onto the bed, and we bounced on the mattress before I sat astride him and yanked off his T-shirt. I circled his nipple, and he gasped as it hardened. It was so ready for my tongue and teeth, and I licked it, teasing it until I grazed the hard point with my teeth.

He frantically grabbed my shirt, pulling it apart, tearing the fabric, and two buttons flew off.

“Hope this isn’t your favorite shirt.” He pulled me closer and clamped his teeth on my nipple. I yelped. The combination of pleasure and pain should be bottled and sold.

I wriggled my ass on his cock, still covered in too many layers of fabric, and I shimmied lower so I was sitting on his ankles. He couldn’t escape while I undid the button on his pants and lowered the zipper.

He lifted his hips, and I slid his clothing over his hips as his hard cock bounded out from his briefs. I stroked the tip, and he arched his back, panting and urging me to continue.

“We’re going slow, Errol.” We had a lifetime, though he might not know that yet.

“I don’t want slow,” he protested and grabbed my crotch.

It was too late to do my big reveal. Not about showing him my length, that was happening. But telling him about my beast—again, not the one in my pants. Hoping I hadn’t got the big life events in the wrong order, I licked the tip of his dick, and he fell back moaning, lifting his hips up and offering me his cock.

I peppered kisses over the shaft as Errol dragged his nails over my scalp, producing more of the pleasure-and-pain combination.

Wrapping my fingers around the base, I pumped his cock while swallowing the head.

“That is so good. More, please.”

I tugged his length harder while the head was in my mouth, and I teased him by sticking the tip into his slit. I shoved my other hand under his butt, making my way to his slick hole. Easing a finger in, I fucked him while pumping and sucking his cock.

Errol whimpered as my finger slid in and out of his hole. But I didn’t want him coming like this, not for our first time. I needed to be inside him.

“Get your clothes off,” he begged. “I want your cock. Show it to me.”

Kissing his length and lapping up pre-cum, I removed my fingers, while keeping his legs prisoner.

“Is this what you want?”

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