Page 29 of Who Pissed Off Ivy Dell?

Rocking back, I ride his cock slowly, going all the way down every time. His eyes are glazed, and I love it when he looks at me like this, but I need to hurry things along. He tries to slow me back down when I start to bounce on him, but I smile and shake my head. “It’s gotta be quick and dirty this morning, babe.”

“Did you just call me babe? You can do whatever you want now.”

“I never knew you wine country boys were so easy.”

“Only for beach girls.”

“Shut up and let me fuck you.”

That appreciative smile is everything. I wish I could take my time, but this day is going to be so busy, and then Zara will be here. She’s going to love Jensen. How could anyone not?

Just when I think I’m going to have to push past my difficulty with dirty talk in the daylight and start spitting some filthy shit to get him there, his body tightens and his groans shorten along with his breath. My vampiric inner slut is grateful. So are my quads. I’m tactful enough not to throw up victory arms. But only just.

I kiss his scorpion before I dismount. “What are you doing this morning?”

“Putting out signs.”

“No, that’s this afternoon. I’m helping with those, and then I’m packaging soap for Petra.”

“How many hours are in your day? Because I think you must have more than the rest of us.”

I toss a towel at him, aiming for his chest, but hitting his face. “Don’t do the signs without me.”

“You better get your ass in gear if you’re working with me this morning.”

“Pffft. I’ll work circles around you.” I send Petra a text to let know I’m helping with the signs this morning unless she needs me somewhere else. She says that’s fine. Everything’s covered.

I had no ideadriving metal pickets into the ground would be this hard. We’ve been at it for hours and we’re not close to being done. The warning signs for the path are still stacked in the bed of Jensen’s truck and we’ve got two more rows of the other signs to put out before we can even start on those.

Hearing from Zara rejuvenates me.

The first four hours of the drive are done. Just got gas and I’m about to get back on the road. I think I’m past all the major traffic areas now. The rest should be smooth sailing.

You might run into a little more traffic in a few hours, but the last three hours are wide open. Keep updating me. Can’t wait to see you!

Can’t wait to be there!

I tried to tell her to fly, but I’m glad she’s almost halfway here.

Cujo shows up to help with the signs and Jensen tells me to take off.

“Are you firing me?”

“I’m offering you the chance to get out of the sun and wind and go wrap bars of soap.”

“You’re fired,” Cujo says. “There. Now you have no choice.”

It feels amazing to take off the work gloves Jensen loaned me. They probably saved my hands from blisters, but they’re hot. I open and close my fingers, let the wind blow through them. “Fine. I’m out of here.”

Petra’s casita is cool and quiet. I yawn as I look over all the supplies that she laid out for me. It is too early to be this tired. I’ve got a late night ahead, catching up with Zara, and then showing her all around tomorrow and the festival all weekend.

I wrap twine around a bar of soap to measure the length I’ll need with the bow, and then I cut a pile the same length. For the wax paper, I can eyeball the amount without precutting. That can vary a little. There’s a pair of scissors and a bowl of dried herbs to cut trimmings from for decoration, and a stack of paperwith a couple of pens for making the labels. As long as I keep my hands busy, I should be able to stay awake.

Separating the soap by scent, I do the labels first, using the scissors to make a hole big enough to push the twine through. Then I cut coordinating herb sprigs and group everything to make the wrapping go faster. It only takes a few hours to have them all done.

Zara should be on the home stretch. Just a few more hours. I walk back to my casita, stopping to pet Wizard on the way. “You didn’t leave any new gifts on my porch, did you?”

April’s shadow darkens my mood. It worsens when I look up to see her face. “What do you want?” I ask.

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