Page 68 of The Pucker and the Princess
We stay in her bed talking and enjoying each other until my stomach rumbles loudly, and Marissa bursts out laughing and sits up. “Come on, Tiger. Let’s get you some post-game snacks. You usually eat sooner than this after a game, don’t you?”
Sitting up as well, I shrug. “Yeah. But I’m not gonna die from taking my time to get a snack one time.”
She tosses me a sardonic look as she moves to her dresser and pulls out some clothes, tossing them on the bed as she pulls on a pair of loose fitting gray pants and a black tank top, her nipples standing at attention and making my dick start to stir again. Pointing a finger at me, she narrows her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you’re hungry, but eating me won’t fill your belly.”
I cackle, climbing off the bed as well. She’s one to talk, though. When I reach my arms above my head in a stretch, her eyes trail down my body, lingering on my cock, making it get even chubbier. “Stop looking at me like that if you don’t want to be my post-game snack.”
Giggling, she turns away and heads out the door. I follow her, stopping next to the bag I dropped in her living room and pulling out a pair of soft flannel lounge pants and stepping into them before following her into the kitchen. She’s already pulling foodout of the fridge, assembling the options. “Okay. I have veggies and dip, plus I could put together a charcuterie plate.”
“Oohhh, fancy. Grown up Lunchables.”
She shoots me a look. “My charcuterie plates are much better than Lunchables, thank you very much. I have salami. And prosciutto. Not slimy ham and cheese.”
“I do prefer my cheese to be slime free,” I say, propping my hip against the counter.
“Same. Now, what else? Oh, I got some blueberries the other day. And apples. It’s a different kind that I haven’t had before.” She sets the fruit in question on the counter as well, closes the fridge, then heads for the pantry. “I have nuts, too. Oh, and I got this baguette today from a bakery around the corner. I could toast it up to go along with everything else?” She wiggles the baguette at me, her eyebrows raised in question, as though there’s any world where I’d say no to something she clearly wants and so adorably offers me.
At first I thought she was all class and polish, a perfect little princess. But the more I’ve gotten to know her, there’s a layer of almost girlish cuteness that’s easy to miss under the sleek business suits and perfectly plucked eyebrows. And when I first saw her, Ineverwould’ve guessed she had a tomboy streak. She’s multifaceted and fascinating, and the more I get to know her, the more I want to know.
“Sounds great. What can I do to help?”
She pauses like the question is surprising and catches her off guard. “Oh, uh …” She glances around for a second, then starts moving again, opening a cabinet and pulling out a wooden cutting board, then getting a serrated knife out of the knife blocknext to her stove. She nods at a cabinet near me. “Plates are in there. Get a couple out while I cut this up. Serve yourself as much as you want of the available options.”
“Want me to cut up a couple of the apples?”
Another quick pause that she covers quickly, though I don’t miss the way her eyes go wide, like me offering to cut an apple is … what? Shocking? Scary? I’m not sure. But she nods, stopping what she’s doing to get out a small, blue plastic cutting board and passing it to me. “That would be great.” She gestures to the knife block, allowing me to select my own knife, then turns on the broil function on her oven to heat it up.
“Oh, I love broiled bread,” I say when she returns to slicing the baguette. “When I was a kid, sometimes my mom would broil slices of bread to serve as a side with dinner. I always thought it was so special and fancy, and I loved how it was crunchy on top and soft on the bottom.”
She grins at me. “Great. This’ll be right up your alley, then.” She makes quick work of the baguette, buttering each piece and setting it on a baking sheet while I find a large plate to assemble the rest of our spread, fanning out the meats and piling the cheese cubes in the middle, then arranging the apple slices alongside. I also take it upon myself to rummage through the cabinets to find a bowl for the blueberries, opening the container and running them under the water before putting them in the bowl. I take everything into the living room and set it on the coffee table, coming back for a couple of smaller plates for us to use if we want to.
She stops me before I can head back to the living room, wrapping her arms around me and giving me a kiss. “You’re so sweet,” she says softly.
“Thank you. So are you.” I dip my head for another kiss, but the timer goes off and she spins around to pull the bread out of the oven. I take advantage of the way she’s bent over to rub her ass for a second, and she laughs as she straightens, setting the baking sheet on top of the stove and looking at me over her shoulder. “What?” I ask. “You have a nice butt.”
When I turn to retrieve the plates, she smacks my ass. “Thanks. So do you.”
I just grin at her and head into the living room. She joins me a moment later, the bread on another plate that she sets on the coffee table before saying, “Oh! Oh, yeah.” She disappears into the kitchen without further explanation, returning a few seconds later with a couple cans. “I got this the other day. It’s from a local cidery. I think it’d pair better with our food choices than beer, don’t you think?”
Reaching for a can, I look at the label. It’s a cranberry cider from a Seattle-based cidery. “This sounds perfect.” I crack open the can then hold it up, waiting for her to do the same. She’s grinning widely as she taps her can against mine. “To us,” I say. “And to many more evenings just like this.”
Her eyes go soft as she taps her can against mine once more. “To us,” she echoes, and we both drink.
I reach for one of the small plates, loading it up with food because, despite what I said in the bedroom, I really am starving. The bread is delicious, toasted perfectly on top, soft on the bottom, flavorful in the way only fresh-baked bread is. Paired with the prosciutto and cheese? It’s amazing.
“This is so good,” I mumble around a mouthful of food.
Marissa chuckles, popping a blueberry in her mouth. “I’m glad. I think part of it’s because you’re really hungry, though.”
I shrug. “Probably. It’s still good, though.”
She reaches for the remote and turns on the TV. “Want to watch something?”
“Sure.” But we don’t get very far with choosing something to watch because we end up talking about everything instead.
At one point, she wrinkles her nose, which has me curious. “What’s that face about?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, well, there are so many Christmas movies here, plusDie Hard, which made me think of my family, and I just realized I never told you I’m going home for Christmas.” It all comes out in a rush, her gaze focused on the screen even though she’s not scrolling through movies anymore,Die Hardstill highlighted.
