Page 11 of Felonies are Forever

“Uhhh, clothes on the floor. Empty pizza boxes, beer cans, the TV still on.” CeeCee spins in a slow circle. “Maybe a couple loose chickens running around. Something burning. You know, the usual bachelor stuff.”

“Disappointed?”

“Meh. Dunno yet.” Shrugging, she pokes a finger toward me as her lips twist into an impish grin and she wraps herself tighter around my heart.

I guide her with a hand in the small of her back into the main open space, then through to the gleaming kitchen. She puts her purse down on the counter and I move in front of her, unable to keep my hands from settling on her waist.

“On three, jump.” I raise my eyebrows and wait for her to acknowledge me with her eyes. “One, two, three…”

I lift and she giggles and jumps. I set her amazing ass on the counter, watching the way her tits bounce.

With her sweet ass settled on the counter, I lean over to slip a bottle of red from the wine cabinet. I’ve been saving this Bordeaux for a special occasion, and this certainly feels special. My mouth is watering but it’s not the thought of the wine, it’s the thought of her sweet flavor spreading over my tongue. The warmth of her slick opening as my tongue dives inside the first time, drinking in pure joy.

“Thorne, I’ve been thinking…I’m not sure I should stay here. I mean, this is a little crazy, right? You show up at my work, pretend to be my date for the evening, and now here I am. I barely know you. I’m really grateful, but I’m just not sure this is smart. Even with Mrs. Takashima’s endorsement…”

Her eyes are wide, sincere, and I can sense the struggle that’s going on inside her, so I nod. She needs to know that I’m not a danger, I get that.

“Do you have somewhere else safe I can take you?”

I turn and uncork the bottle with a soft pop, watching her face from the corner of my eye as she ponders my question. I can see the answer already though; it’s written in her features.

“Guess not.” With a shrug we put that to rest.

I notice her earrings are tiny donuts with pink icing and colored sprinkles.

“Love those earrings.” My pulse is racing being this close to her. She’s got me undone and it’s hard as fuck to keep my cool.

One of her hands goes to her sweet earlobe. “Yeah. The funny thing, I’ve had these for years. I just put them on today after not wearing them for probably two years. That’s weird huh? The donut earrings must have sent out some signal and then, poof, the Donut King delivered my donuts. If I’d known that, I would have put them on a long time ago. Saved me a shit ton in donut money.”

“Maybe. I see if I can hook you up with a discount card or something.”

“Ahh, mighty big of you.” Her sarcasm mixes with the twinkle in her eyes.

I finish pouring the wine and hand her the glass as we eye each other with playful smiles.

She takes the glass from me when it’s offered, and I step closer to her, feeling the tension grow between us as she sits on the counter like my own precious doll. Her eyes are deep set, agreen that must be seen to be believed. They sparkle under the kitchen spotlights. Her skin is the smoothest, deepest olive, but there’s a hint of pink on her cheeks and it makes me hope I’m the one responsible for that blush.

I hold up my glass and her lips curl with a quizzical grin, but she follows my lead.

“Here’s to us.” I wait for her to raise her glass.

She adds, “And to donut destiny.”

Those golden flecks sparkle to life again, and I don’t miss how she presses her legs together and shifts a tiny bit in her seat on the counter. The wine glass touches her lips, but she doesn’t drink. Instead our eyes stay locked.

No one ever made me feel this way. No one. Not ever.

FIVE

CEE CEE

He keeps watching me,and it’s starting to get difficult to breathe. He’s mesmerizing. More than that, there’s this thing in the air between us and I think it’s sex. My mouth is dry because any liquid in my body is pouring out between my legs.

When he speaks, it feels like a jolt of electricity. “Are you hungry?” He draws another slow slip of wine over his lips and I can’t help watching as he gulps it down. “It’s late.” The cut, angular lines of his face, the ink sprinkling up his neck, the way his eyes never leave mine. It’s intoxicating.

The way he looks at me, my belly does flip flops and there’s a direct connection to this warm and tingling feeling between my legs. I’m so wet. I mean, drenched. My panties are done, gone, and my pink jeans surely are sporting evidence as well.

My rational mind has left me because I’m playing over a scenario in my head that has me seeing the rest of the ink that must cover his body. But he asked me a question. What was it? Food? How can I possibly think about food right now?

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