The Ultimate Pi Day Party

by Jackie Lau

  If a woman stays the night, I always offer her breakfast, but not Lucky Charms. My love of Lucky Charms isn’t the sort of thing I want the women who sleep with me to know, but Sarah is special. Even though she makes the world’s finest pies, Sarah has learned about my not-so-classy breakfast choices.

  I give her a long lick, and she clutches my hair, holding me against her. Not that I’m going anywhere. She tastes magnificent. I love having my face buried between her legs. Love being surrounded by her body, her scent.

  My dick is almost painfully hard, but I ignore it and keep touching Sarah. Her soft little moans are like music, and when she cries out and shakes as she reaches her climax, I smile against her in satisfaction.

  I stand up and pull off my shirt and boxers. She rakes her gaze over me, her eyes hungry.

  Good.

  I circle my arms around her and walk her backward until she hits the fridge. Her mouth widens in surprise. A few magnets and papers fall to the floor, but I don’t care.

  “Did you think I was kidding about doing it against the fridge?” I grin.

  “I...I didn’t know what to think.”

  “Think about how good I’m going to make you feel. Again and again.” I turn her around so she’s facing the fridge, and I slide my fingers inside her once more. She’s still so wet for me, and I can’t wait to get inside her.

  “Josh,” she says.

  I roll on the condom that I tucked into my waistband and push myself inside her. All in one thrust, unlike last night.

  Christ, she feels amazing.

  I wrap my arm around her chest to hold her up, and I slip my other hand between her legs to touch her clit. I kiss her neck as I begin to move inside her, lost in the feel of her. Her back against my chest, the weight of her breasts above my arm, her tight wetness around my cock.

  “You like being fucked like this, darling?” The endearment comes unconsciously.

  She nods helplessly.

  I nuzzle her neck and bite her skin, the opposite side from where I gave her a hickey last week.

  “Oh, God. Oh, God,” she whispers.

  I push inside her again and again, and when her chest slams against the fridge, sending another magnet skittering across the floor, she cries out.

  I can’t remember the last time I felt so lost in a woman.

  Actually, I don’t think it’s ever happened before.

  I slam into her harder, her cries spurring me on, and then she goes rigid for a moment and cries out even louder than before.

  “Sarah,” I groan as I follow her over the edge.

  When I pull out of her, we collapse together on the cold tile of the kitchen floor. I hold her in my arms, because I need to. I need to feel her skin against mine and to keep her with me.

  Usually once I’ve slept with a woman a couple times, I start worrying that she’ll want more of me than I’m capable of giving.

  Not today, though.

  I think I might be capable of it, and perhaps I told myself otherwise because I believed I didn’t deserve it. I won’t rush into anything, but I’m not going to pull back, and I don’t regret telling her more than I’ve told all the other women I’ve slept with.

  “So this is what happens when you have Chocolate Cheerios or Lucky Charms for breakfast,” Sarah murmurs. “I should do it more often.”

  I laugh and press a kiss to her temple.

  “What time is it?” she asks.

  I look at the microwave. “Seven thirty. I’m usually at the office by now.”

  “I’m sorry for throwing off your schedule. Except I’m totally not.”

  “It’s no problem. I was more than happy to introduce you to kitchen sex.”

  “Mm. I suppose I do enjoy kitchen sex after all.”

  “You more than enjoyed it,” I say. “It blew your mind.”

  “You’re a little full of yourself.”

  “Are you saying I’m wrong?”

  “Not at all.”

  I run my hand down her side. “Do you live near Happy As Pie? I’ll drive you home when I go to the office.”

  “You can drive? You don’t just pay a chauffeur to be at your beck and call?” she teases.

  “Last night was just for you.” And then I repeat myself, my tone serious this time. I want her to know I really do mean it. “Just for you.”

  She smiles at me. “It’s rush hour. Traffic will be better if we wait an hour and a half, maybe two hours, and there are lots of things we could do in two hours.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  I sweep her into my arms and carry her upstairs.

  * * *

  I walk into the office at ten o’clock, whistling.

  Clarissa jumps up from her desk. “Josh. Thank God. I was worried. You never come in later than eight. What happened?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I say airily. “Just, uh...had some errands to run.”

  “Right. Okay. You’ve had two calls—”

  “Josh!” It’s Amrita. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” She pulls me into her office without waiting for a response.

  “What is it?” I ask. “It sounds urgent.”

  She smirks. “So, did you prove to Sarah that the ramen incident didn’t do any permanent damage? That’s why you’re late, isn’t it?”

  “What ramen... Oh. Oh. I can’t believe you brought that up on Saturday.”

  “But it didn’t hurt your chances with her, did it? No harm done, then. I even heard you whistling a minute ago. Must have been good.”

  “I didn’t whistle!”

  “Haha, very funny.” She pauses. “You really like her, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  And I’m going to be thinking about her all day.

  Chapter 16

  Sarah

  When Josh drops me off at my apartment, I head inside and collapse on my couch. I squeeze a pillow to my chest, a goofy grin on my face.

  That was the best date of my life, no question. The wonderful restaurant! The sex! Breakfast! Josh and I can be serious or playful together—though more often it’s the latter—and it’s all good. I’m not used to being with a man in so many different ways like that.

  And now I have the whole day off! I’m meeting Chloe and Valerie at Baldwin Street Sushi at noon, but until then, I have no plans.

  I change out of my halter dress, thinking about how I was a different person when I put it on yesterday, and then I make myself a cup of tea and settle back on the couch with A Secret Baby for the CEO.

  * * *

  “Dude must have a magic penis,” Valerie says. “That’s the only explanation.”

  I nearly spit out my tea. “What?”

  “Please excuse Valerie. She tends to make inappropriate comments.” Chloe leans toward me and says in a hushed tone, “Well? Does he?”

  “Um,” I say.

  “You look really happy and relaxed,” Valerie says. “Almost like you’re glowing. So it must have been an awesome date.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty great.”

  “When did you get home?”

  “Nine thirty this morning. He drove me home on the way to work.”

  “I knew it.” Valerie slaps the table. “There was definitely sex.”

  I study the list of lunch specials, my cheeks heating.

  “There’s no need to be ashamed,” Chloe says, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Three-date rules and all that—it’s nonsense.”

  “I’m not ashamed I slept with him. I’m just not used to talking about men. At all. And I rarely date.” I’m also not used to going out for lunch with friends.

  “I don’t date, either,” Valerie says. “Men are dicks. At least, that’s a common theme with the men in my life.”

  The waitress comes around and we place our orders. I get a maki special with salmon and California rolls.

  “Where did Josh take you for dinner last night?” Chloe asks.

  I tell them about Loren’s and all the amazing food, and I’m practical
ly drooling by the time our miso soup arrives.

  I also tell them about the large stack of CEO romances that Ann gave me, and how Josh caught me reading A Secret Baby for the CEO this morning, which sends Valerie into uncontrollable laughter.

  But I don’t tell them what Josh told me after seeing that book, of course. I still can’t believe his father has held it against him for so long. Hopefully the Pi Day party will make a difference. At least his dad is coming—that’s a good first step.

  “Guess what Josh ate for breakfast today,” I say.

  “The blood and sweat of his employees?” Valerie suggests.

  “Oh, Val.” Chloe gives her a look. “Bacon and eggs? Oatmeal? Toast?”

  Valerie shakes her head. “It can’t be anything quite so boring, or Sarah wouldn’t have said anything about it.”

  “Lucky Charms,” I say. “He eats Lucky Charms for breakfast.”

  Valerie sips her miso soup. “How sophisticated.”

  “He claims all CEOs do. He says it’s the source of their, uh, powers.”

  “Powers in bed?” Chloe asks. “Which marshmallow gives him those powers?”

  “Maybe there are marshmallow dicks in Lucky Charms now,” Valerie says. “Which give men the power to be giant dicks in business and have big dicks in the bedroom.”

  “Wait a second,” I say. “Are we seriously talking about marshmallow dicks?”

  “Sure, why not? It’s a perfectly normal conversation. They do exist, you know. You can find anything on Amazon. I came across them the other day.”

  “I’m almost scared to ask,” Chloe says, “but what were you searching for that resulted in you stumbling upon marshmallow dicks on Amazon?”

  Valerie shrugs. “Who knows. I don’t remember anymore.”

  The wheels in my mind are turning. Perhaps I could buy a package of these marshmallow dicks and sneak them into Josh’s box of Lucky Charms.

  I cover my mouth to stifle my laughter.

  God, I just want to keep laughing today. I had a great date last night, and I’m making friends who talk about marshmallow dicks while eating sushi, and all is well with the world.

  * * *

  “Shit!” I pull the pan of hazelnuts out of the oven. They’re burnt. I’ll have to toss them.

  If only I could do anything right in the kitchen today.

  The kitchen is my home, and I’m usually...well, maybe not invincible in my home, but quite competent.

  I don’t feel competent right now.

  Fatima comes over and examines the pan. “Those don’t look good.”

  I almost snap at her and say, No, really. But I bite my tongue.

  I finish the spiced apple pie filling while I toast another batch of hazelnuts, which I manage not to burn, and start chopping dark chocolate. I’m making another attempt at chocolate hazelnut tarts today.

  Okay, I can do this. I am going to make the best damn tarts in the world, and Josh is going to take one bite and ask me to marry him—as a joke, obviously—and then he’s going to kiss me senseless.

  It’s such a pleasure to be hugged and kissed by him. The sex is amazing, but the other intimacies, the ones that don’t lead directly to sex, are amazing, too. Just lying in bed with someone in the morning—that felt like such a luxury. Whenever I’m not at work, I’m usually alone, and it was nice to be with someone else. To be with him.

  Nobody has ever made me feel the way he does.

  I’m not in love with Josh, though. That’s ridiculous. I didn’t meet him very long ago, and we only had our first kiss last week. Of course I’m not in love with him.

  But it’s starting to happen. I’m falling for him.

  I’ve been thinking about him all damn day. I’ve been thinking about his scent, his taste...the way it feels to thrust my fingers through his hair when he has his head between my legs...the way it feels when he looks at me as though I’m the sexiest woman he’s ever seen.

  Yes. Me. I’m—

  “Ahhhh!” I shriek, dropping my knife. “Fuck.”

  I usually don’t scream obscenities at work, but then again, I don’t usually burn hazelnuts and cut my finger open.

  “Are you okay?” Fatima rushes over.

  I grab a paper towel and press it to the wound. It’s not actually a bad cut. Bloody, but not deep. “I’ll be fine.”

  Unfortunately, I’ll have to throw out the chocolate I was chopping, since I bled all over it.

  What the hell is wrong with me today?

  Well, that’s pretty obvious. It’s Josh Yu. He’s making me lose my focus—and I’m usually pretty good at focusing on Happy As Pie.

  But now, instead of thinking about chocolate tarts and apple pies, I’m thinking about cuddling and kissing and meaningful looks...and the man with the greatest smile in the world.

  I exhale slowly, then head to the washroom to clean myself up and bandage my finger.

  I need to make some ground rules for myself. I cannot afford to be so distracted.

  First of all, I won’t think about Josh when I’m at work. Well, I’ll only think of him in a business sense—I’ll think about making awesome food for his party, and the logistics. When I’m at Happy As Pie, Josh is not a man I’m dating, but a client. No mooning over his smile. No remembering how he fucked me against his fridge yesterday morning.

  I feel a rush of heat between my legs, but I force my mind to think about more appropriate things. I cannot afford to keep burning food and cutting myself.

  Second of all, I will not change my work schedule for him. I will work just as many hours as I did before, and I will not text him during the workday.

  On my own time, I can do whatever I want, but I refuse to let a man compromise my dream, which I’ve worked so hard to achieve.

  I take a few more deep breaths before heading back to the kitchen.

  I can do this.

  Chapter 17

  Josh

  I run my finger over the cream-colored envelope. My address is printed in a fussy script.

  I know exactly what this is. I’ve been expecting it.

  I open the envelope, and sure enough, there’s a wedding invitation inside. It’s edged with pink and red flowers, and the Chinese character for “double happiness” is in red at the top, followed by the names.

  Melinda Leung and Terrence Chu.

  I lay the invitation down on the kitchen table. There’s a strange pressure in my chest, but it’s not jealousy. It’s not regret.

  I’m happy for Melinda. I only wish good things for her, but it’s tinged with...I don’t know what. Maybe it is regret. Not regret that we broke up, but regret that she’s had a number of boyfriends since high school, and I’ve just had a bunch of meaningless flings, nothing that resembled a relationship.

  Until Sarah.

  I scrub my hands down my face. I have no idea how to be more for a woman, no idea how I’m supposed to act. When I was sixteen, it was completely different. I was in high school; I couldn’t even drive.

  I loved Melinda. Not the deep kind of love that I’m sure her fiancé has for her now, but I loved her in the way I was capable of at the time. I used to walk her home and carry her textbooks, and I’d pull her behind trees and kiss her every five minutes. I saved my money so I could take her out for pizza and burgers, rather than spending it on weed. I bought her pretty hair clips. I sent her cutesy emails and had long phone conversations with her; there were no smartphones when we were in high school. We’d talk on ICQ, though.

  And then...

  I grip the table, then exhale slowly.

  It’s okay. It was a long time ago. But I feel guilty about the position I put her in. Her big-mouth sister told everyone at school, and Melinda had to deal with endless comments behind her back, slut-shaming from her friends. She nearly switched schools.

  Her parents must no longer think I’m a hellion—if they hated me, I wouldn’t be invited.

  If only her parents could convince my father of that.

  I set the
invitation aside. I don’t want to look at it anymore. It’s about a future wedding, but to me, it represents the past, and I’m trying to move forward. I’m trying to tell myself I deserve another chance at this. It’s ridiculous that something from seventeen years ago still haunts me, yet I can’t get around the fact that it’s the reason my father doesn’t talk to me.

  But I’m trying to change that, too.

  I’ll be good to Sarah, I swear. I’m just not entirely sure how to do it.

  I’m a rich man. Not a super-crazy powerful wealthy man, but I’m not lacking for anything. I don’t need to save my money for a slice at the slightly-nicer pizza chain. I can take Sarah out to fancy places, like I did on Sunday night. I can buy her pretty things.

  I’m about to do a little searching on my phone when I get a text from Sarah. Just seeing her name on my phone makes my blood pump faster.

  She’s sent me a selfie, taken from an awkward angle, of her about to take a bite of a chocolate tart. I laugh. It’s a silly picture, and I like it very much. Cute and sexy, even though she wasn’t trying to be sexy—but I always think she’s sexy.

  My new chocolate hazelnut tart, she says. It’s even better than the last one.

  That’s hard to believe, because the last one was pretty damn spectacular, but I’ll take her word for it.

  I want to see you tomorrow, I text. After staring at that picture, I’m overwhelmed with the need to see her, but it’s already eight o’clock—I got home late—so I don’t ask to see her right now. Maybe try that chocolate hazelnut tart.

  No, not tomorrow. I’m busy. Thursday? We can do something for dinner.

  Sure. Thursday dinner it is.

  Hopefully she’ll come over afterward. I want to take her to bed again, and maybe feed her some of that chocolate hazelnut tart myself. Lick the crumbs from her lips.

  God, I was really hoping to see her tomorrow, but Thursday will have to do.

  However, when four o’clock rolls around on Wednesday afternoon, I decide I can’t wait another day. I need to see her now, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

  I leave the office early and walk through the slushy streets to Happy As Pie, wondering if she’s been thinking about me as much as I’ve been thinking about her.