Page 38 of Tangled With the Wrong Guy
‘Save some for me,’ she gasped.
‘Loads left,’ he said, taking the other half from the box. ‘Doing okay?’
She nodded. ‘Better than okay.’
He straddled her, then leaned forward and kissed her deeply before his mouth moved slowly down her body, pausing to lick the last of the cream from her nipples, gobbling up the icing and licking the residue off her stomach, and then his head was between her legs. She closed her eyes as she felt cream being smoothed on. He paused, and she opened her eyes to see him stuffing the cream-less pastry in his mouth. ‘Delish,’ he said. Then she shut them again as the tip of his tongue dipped into the cream, again and again, before his mouth closed on her and he sucked, and licked, and she pushed herself against him, grabbing his hair, arching her back.
‘I need more cake,’ he said, and she gathered her wits enough to split the second slice and pass over half, and he carried on, bringing his fingers into the mix until she thought she might die of pleasure. She was desperate for release, but asshe was about to reach that point he stopped and moved back up the bed to lie beside her again.
‘What … why … don’t stop!’ she panted.
‘Shhh,’ he said, and broke off a small piece of the gooey icing from the second slice, which was balanced on her stomach. ‘Eat.’
He put it between his teeth and she kissed him until it had dissolved, and then another piece, until it had all gone, while he continued to stroke her with his fingers … stopping each time she was about to come. It was absolute heaven and absolute torture.
‘Well, Joel,’ she gasped, putting on Paul Hollywood’s Liverpool accent as he stopped again. ‘Can’t fault that cake. I think that deserves a handshake.’ She moved her free hand down.
He let out a bark of laughter. ‘You haven’t seen my showstopper yet.’
‘It’s definitely time I did,’ she said, and diverted her hand to the last half of the cake. ‘Lie down.’
This was all so deliciously decadent. And amazing and wonderful and sexy and So. Much. Fun. She smiled at him as she drew her finger across the cream, collecting a huge dollop, which she sat on the end of his cock, squidging it a little so the cream wouldn’t fall off. Moving down, she began to lick, round and round. ‘Like a Mister Whippy,’ she muttered. ‘Yum.’
She looked up at him, but his eyes were closed and his face was creased in a slight frown. A frown of blissful concentration, she hoped. She carried on, adding more cream, licking and sucking, pausing to pop pieces of pastry into her mouth, until it was all gone, then she moved back up and lay on top of him. It was time to tell him there were condoms.
Chapter Twelve
‘Hello,’ he said, his voice low and drowsy, his eyes fluttering open as her face hovered above his. ‘That was lovely.’
‘Delicious,’ she said. ‘But I think I’m full now. Can we …’
‘Chloe–’
‘Madame Lol left some condoms,’ she said. She reached across to open the drawer, but he caught her hand.
‘We shouldn’t, though,’ he said. ‘Do that, I mean. I’m getting married, remember?’
She froze. ‘Youarekidding me?’
She was sitting on his abdomen, a mere lift and wriggle away from having him inside her at last, and he was drawing a line? Between oral sex with cream cakes and full-on sex?
Or was it … oh god. Perhaps he reallywasgay, not bi. Maybe he just didn’t like penetrative sex with women?
Or maybe he did actually love Zara, and didn’t want to be properly unfaithful? The mother of his child? His soon-to-bewife. Whatwasthe truth of all this?
‘Let me finish what I started,’ he said. ‘Lie down.’
‘No, Joel!’ she said, brimming over with frustration. So many types of frustration. ‘What the hell’s going on with you? You’re telling me doing …thatto me against a cemetery wall, and licking cream off my most intimate body parts is okay, but fucking me isn’t?’ Suddenly she felt all kinds of cheap. ‘Do you –’ To her dismay, a tear escaped her. She swiped it away. ‘Do you actually love her, then? I thought you said you were only marrying her because it was the right thing to do! Like, youdidn’t really want to.’ Now she felt nauseous. The universe was punishing her for being slutty with a cream cake.
He wouldn’t look at her. ‘Like I said, it’s complicated.’
She rolled off him and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, willing the tears of shame to stop.
He shifted onto his side, trying not to lie on their shackled hands. ‘Fuck!’ he said as they remained trapped beneath them. ‘Fucking chain.FUCK!’
She moved so their bound hands became free.
‘Sorry,’ he said. He watched her for a while, saying nothing. Then he gently pushed her damp hair off her face and traced her lips with a finger. ‘Look. Please believe me when I tell you that this – us – is the best thing that could have happened to me right now. It’s like you’re that angel you talked about, sent to give me one last beautiful moment before real life sets in.’ His eyes slid away from hers again. ‘Suburban life in shitty Sheffield. Christ almighty.’
