I liked the fact that she wasn’t stuck up or material.
I liked the fact that she was both honest and humble.
I liked the fact that she was a fighter and a survivor.
I liked the fact that she was funny and caring. Her laugh was adorable like the rest of her. And she made me laugh too.
Yup, I liked a lot of things about my temp, even the fact that she could cook like America’s Top Chef, but I loved the fact that she totally turned me on. I craved more of her like a little kid craved more candy. She was irresistibly delicious. And not good for me. The warning sign was there in bright neon—Steer Clear!—but I found myself not heeding it. Why was it men wanted more of what they couldn’t have? Fuck. She wasn’t even available. My chest clenched as I fought the urge to follow her into the kitchen and bend her over the counter.
“You’re going to love this.” Dee’s bright voice cut my mental ramblings short. My eyes instantly darted in her direction. She was heading my way with two sundae glasses piled high with whip cream. Long spoons stood up from the glasses.
“Shit. Is that what I think it is?” My mouth was watering as she set one of the fluted glasses in front of me. She sat down again in her spot and placed the other glass on her placemat.
“Uh-huh, it’s a hot fudge sundae. Tyson loves them.”
I immediately dug in and put a heaping teaspoon of the creamy vanilla ice cream, warm rich fudge, and fluffy whipped cream into my mouth. I moaned as I swallowed. “Jesus, Dee, this is sinfully good! I haven’t had one since I was a kid.”
“Your mother made them for you?”
“Hell no. My nanny Blanca did. She made them just the way you do. I fucking loved them.” I ingested another big spoonful. “You’re going to kill me.”
She laughed. The cutest, sexiest laugh. “Don’t die on me. I’ve had enough drama for one night.”
I laughed too. That was a fact.
Dee dug into her sundae. My eyes stayed fixed on her as she put an equally heaping teaspoon to her mouth. A sexy little “mmm” spilled out as she savored the delectable desert. It was so refreshing to be with a real woman who had a healthy appetite and didn’t pick at lettuce leaves or call a blueberry dessert. A little bit of the whip cream stayed behind on her kissable lips. My cock flexed as she licked it off with her tongue. She had no clue how fucking sexy she was and that’s what made her sexier. My deviant mind wandered to all the places I could lick whip cream off from her. Her pussy was one of them. My cock twitched at the delicious thought.
“Do you want my cherry?” she asked, giving me a jolt. What kind of loaded question was that? Oh God, Lord of the Boners! I wanted to eat her pussy, oh pretty please with a cherry on top.
“You don’t want it?” I managed, almost choking on my words.
“Uh-uh. I don’t like them. I just put it on to make the sundae look pretty. Tyson loves them. She once ate a whole jar of them.”
“A girl after my own heart. I did that once, too, when I was her age.”
“So, you want it?” she asked again, already dangling the bright red candied fruit in front of me by its stem.
What a fucking tease! With a boner raging under my jeans, I snagged it out of her fingers with my mouth and sucked it, squeezing out the juice. I had the burning desire to kiss her, to share the sweetness, and to taste hers. It took all I had not to pull her into my arms and devour her. I wasn’t getting kudos from any little voice in my head or from my throbbing cock. I went back to the sundae and consumed it until there wasn’t a drop to be had.
“Should we listen to the auditions now?” Her voice was hesitant.
“It can wait till Monday.” The truth is I didn’t even bring them along.
She shifted uncomfortably. “Well then, I guess it’s time to call it a night.”
A short stretch of silence followed until I broke it. “Dee, I don’t think you should stay here alone tonight. It’s too risky. The asshole may come back.”
She weighed my words. “What are you trying to say? That I should check into some hotel?
Or come home with me. The thought of her all naked in my bed sent my cock into a tailspin. Before I could respond, she continued.
“I don’t think so. I need to be here for Tyson when she comes home in the morning.”
“Then let me stay here.”
“You can’t. One bedroom belongs to my sister who will likely be home later; the other is mine. Tyson shares it with me.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch. C’mon, think about it. I won’t come near you.” I paused for a beat. “Unless you beg.”
She flushed and then flung one word at me: “Fine.”
In no time, I was stretched out on the couch, my eyes closed with dirty dreams ahead.