“Okay, good. I only like kink in bed, and just because I like playing with domestic servitude does not mean I want to be a model preacher’s wife and teach Sunday school and bake brownies and—”
He helped me to sitting and then kissed me to shut me up.
“I like you as you are, fiery girl,” he said after he pulled away, leaving me breathless and bit stunned. “I don’t want you any other way. Even if it means you argue with me at every single staff meeting. Even if it means you give me that look every time I walk by you.”
I sputtered, “You’re the one with a look! You scowl every time you walk past my desk!”
He laughed, and the sound was so foreign that it surprised the indignation right out of me. “I’m not scowling at you,” he explained, his face still smiling and relaxed. “Scowling at myself. You see, it’s not good for a preacher to get hard every time he walks past a certain church employee…”
Oh. Oh.
I blushed, thinking about all those scowls and what I now knew they meant. “I see.”
He laughed again. “I bet you do.” He took my hand and guided it down to his penis, which was already hardening again.
I licked my lips. “I don’t have any plans tonight. You could always take me back to your place and make sure I really see.”
The swagger was back as he grabbed his car keys, pulled his office blinds open to make sure the parking lot was empty, and then swung me easily over his shoulder.
I squealed, but I was laughing too, and the Reverend Doctor Mark Trade swaggered all the way out to his car with me as his captive, and I stayed his captive long, long, long into the night.
Until dawn, actually. Until the cock crowed.
About the Author
Sierra Simone is a USA Today Bestselling former librarian (who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk.) She lives with her husband and family in Kansas City.
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Also by Sierra Simone
Misadventures:
Misadventures with a Professor (Coming November 2018)
* * *
The American Queen Trilogy:
American Queen
American Prince
American King
* * *
The Priest Series:
Priest
Midnight Mass: A Priest Novella
Sinner
* * *
Co-Written with Laurelin Paige
Porn Star
Hot Cop
The Markham Hall Series:
The Awakening of Ivy Leavold
The Education of Ivy Leavold
The Punishment of Ivy Leavold
The Reclaiming of Ivy Leavold
* * *
The London Lovers:
The Seduction of Molly O’Flaherty
The Persuasion of Molly O’Flaherty
The Wedding of Molly O’Flaherty
Preorder for next book:
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Chocolate and Cockup
(A Chocolate Lovers Bonus Scene)
Tara Sivec
Bonus scene from Tara Sivec's Chocolate Lovers series. The crazy gang is back and they're wreaking havoc on a retirement community!
Copyright © 2018 by Tara Sivec
* * *
All rights reserved.
* * *
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chocolate and Cockup
“HOLY SHIT, COCKSUCKING MOTHERFUCKER!”
My body jolts and my heart starts racing when the scream from the padded lounge chair next to mine interrupts the beautiful, peaceful morning. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, I turn my head and glare at the man sitting next to me.
“Dammit, Drew. You made me mess up my crocheting. Can we keep the noise level down to at least a three? Right now, you’re at toddler throwing a hissy fit level. People are staring.”
Drew gapes at me with wide eyes and an even wider dropped-open mouth as I attempt to fix the stitch I just botched when he scared the hell out of me.
“What the hell, shit stick, you woke me up from my nap,” my best friend Liz complains from her chair on the other side of Drew.
Liz leans forward and rubs the sleep out of her eyes before giving Drew the same annoyed glare I did.
“How am I gonna stay awake for bingo tonight without my mid-morning nap? Virginia Albright has won three weeks in a row. This was my week, asshole. The grand prize was a bus trip to the casino. You suck.”
Drew just continues to blink rapidly at both of us, before he gets his own bodily jolt when our friend Jim pops up from the other side of Liz.
And when I say ‘pops up’, I mean that sarcastically. Jim has a bad back. He basically just slowly lurches forward with a loud groan.
“What’s going on? What happened? Where are we?” Jim mutters, looking around in confusion.
“We’re at the retirement community, out by the pool, sweetie. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s time for your blood pressure medication,” Liz tells her husband.
Jim lets out another groan as he lays back down in his chair, crosses his arms over his chest and goes back to sleep.
“Where’s Jenny?! Where the hell is my wife?! JENNNNNNNNY!” Drew suddenly shouts.
Liz reaches over the arm of her chair and smacks him in the arm, then points a few feet away to a grassy area next to the pool, where Jenny is lying on her back, rocking from side-to-side as she stares up at the clouds.
“She’s fine. She’s frolicking in the grass,” Liz tells him.
“Uh, I don’t think she’s frolicking. I believe she’s fallen, and she can’t get up. Liz, go help her up. You know she’ll just lay there all damn day without asking anyone for help,” I sigh.
“Why the hell do I have to help her up? I helped her up last time. It’s your turn.”
“Fuck off, and go help her up before she gets a sunburn,” I argue.
After lifting her arthritic finger in the air and flipping me off, Liz gets out of her chair with a moan as we all hear a few of her bones creak and pop with the effort it takes for her to move.
“You’re alive,” Drew whispers in astonishment, looking around at all of us, including my husband, Carter, who is still peacefully snoring in the chair next to mine.
He better thank me later for telling him to turn down the volume on his hearing aid before he settled in for his nap. He gets to continue enjoying the quiet morning while I have to deal with whatever shit show is about to happen with Drew.
“Uh, yes. I’m alive. What the hell is wrong with you?” I mutter, shaking my head in annoyance when I realize I’m going to have to undo this entire row of stitches to fix the mess I made of the scarf I was crocheting for Carter.
“I had a dream. A bad dream. An awful dream. We were all dead. You, me, Jenny, Liz, Jim, and Carter. Holy fuck, it was so real. You and Carter died in your sleep on your 75th wedding anniversary after a celebratory game of Metamucil pong. Liz and Jim kicked the bucket on their 78th wedding anniversary from heart attacks when they tested out an entire new shipment of vibrators. Jenny died in the parking lot of the emergency room, next to our personalized parking space, when she slipped on a sheet of ice trying to dislodge a whisk from her vagina and hit her head, which caused her to swallow the ball from the ball gag my arthritic fingers were unable to remove, and she choked to death. I died from a heart attack overexerting myself giving her CPR.”
When Drew finally finishes rambling, I roll my eyes at him as I
set my knitting down in my lap. I’d like to say that the things coming out of my friend’s mouth surprise me, but they don’t. At all. Over the years, he’s said plenty of insane things and honestly, this dream he had, while ridiculous, sounds exactly like the way each of us could potential die someday.
Hello. My name is Claire Ellis, and I hate old people.
God, that sounds awful, but I’m allowed to say it because I’m one of those old people. I like myself just fine; it’s other old people who get on my last damn nerve. Like Drew. And everyone else we live with in the lovely retirement community of Park Summit in Coral Springs, Florida.
“It was just a dream, Drew,” I remind him as he continues to breathe so hard and fast that I’m afraid he might have a panic attack.
“How the fuck are you so calm?! WE WERE ALL DEAD! Six feet under. Gone. Vanished. Never to walk this earth again. Never to have sex again...” he trails off, pressing his hand against his chest. “Oh, God. No more sex. This is it. I’m having a heart attack. The dream was false. I won’t die hovering over my wife while she chokes on a ball gag. I’m gonna die surrounded by old people knitting, playing shuffleboard, taking naps, and every other boring, old people shit everyone around here does!”
“Drew, we’re in our seventies. We live in a retirement community. This is what retirement looks like. Quiet and peaceful,” I remind him, glancing around at the beautiful scenery that surrounds us.
When Drew needed hip replacement surgery a few years ago after he and his wife Jenny went a little overboard with trying out things in the Kama Sutra book, he found out his doctor had moved down here to Coral Springs. Naturally, Drew followed him for the surgery. After the hip replacement, his doctor set him up in the rehabilitation area of Park Summit. We all came down to visit him and immediately fell in love with the place.
My best friend Liz and I started a business back when we were in our twenties called Seduction and Snacks, which is a combination sex toy store and bakery. Our friend Jenny was hired on to handle marketing and promotions for us. After decades of working our asses off, opening up franchises of Seduction and Snacks all over the United States, and then eventually handing the bulk of the business over to our kids when they became adults, visiting Drew at Park Summit made us realize it was time to slow down, trust our kids to take care of the business, and just relax. The six of us moved here permanently three months after we visited Drew, and we’ve been here ever since.
Park Summit has everything you could ever need. We each have our own two-bedroom condo, and they offer a library, fitness center, beauty salon and spa, fun activities, beautifully landscaped grounds with a swimming pool and Jacuzzi, and even nursing care. It’s like living full time at a tropical resort.
“I don’t understand. How are we in our seventies already? Weren’t we just in our fifties like, three years ago?” Drew asks in confusion.
“Don’t try to math, Drew. No one gets math,” Jim pipes up from his chair, with his eyes still closed. “Can you stop yammering now? I’ve got a Jazzercise class in the pool in an hour, and I need my rest.”
“Baby! I think it’s time for your bottled water medicine!” Jenny announces, her hand clinging to Liz’s elbow as they amble over to us, and Liz helps her sit down in the chair she vacated.
“For the last time, Jenny, it’s his water pill. It’s not the same as drinking bottled water,” Liz complains with a sigh.
“Jesus. JESUS!” Drew shouts, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. “Will you look at us? What the fuck happened to us? We used to get drunk and make poor decisions. We used to get drunk and get kicked out of public places. We used to play dinner roll baseball. We used to wear awesome shirts that said things like Hello, my name is Slutbag McFuckstick. We used to go to BronyCon.”
“You used to go to BronyCon. We just pointed and laughed at you for being ridiculous,” Liz laughs. “And might I remind you, you’re currently wearing a hat that says I ain’t dead yet, motherfuckers.”
Drew reaches up and touches the brim of his hat.
“This is a pretty awesome hat, if I do say so myself. But it’s a fucking fishing hat. It has fishing lures on it, Liz. I am wearing an old person’s fishing hat and I HATE FISHING. Fishing is for old people.”
“We are old people,” Carter says with a sigh as he adjusts the volume on his hearing aid and sits up in his chair. “Is it three o’clock yet? They’re serving strawberry Jell-O and meatloaf at dinner.”
“JESUS CHRIST!” Drew yells, forcing all of us to give apologetic looks to the handful of people in the pool who stop what they’re doing to stare at us. “Are you guys even hearing yourselves right now? Crocheting, casino trips, bingo, mid-morning naps, Jazzercise, dinner at fucking three o’clock in the afternoon, where all they serve is soft, mushy food so our dentures don’t fall out.”
“But...strawberry Jell-O is delicious,” my husband mumbles.
“The point is, I get it. We’re getting up there in age. But why the hell are we acting like it? This is not who we are. We are not these people. We are people who fuck shit up. We’re all just sitting around waiting to die,” Drew complains.
“He’s right, you know,” Jenny nods. “Sure, we moved out here to Florida to relax, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still have fun. Our kids are all grown up; they’re living their own lives and having fun doing it, and they’ve spooked us.”
“Christ, Jenny. They didn’t spook us. It’s ghosted. They ghosted us. And they didn’t ghost us. They visit all the time, call practically every day, and they’re busy running our Seduction and Snacks empire,” Liz reminds her.
“Whatever. I’m just saying, we need to live a little. Remember what it was like to have fun. Real fun. Not old people fun.”
I really, really wanted to take a nap before dinner, but the things Jenny and Drew are saying are kind of making me a little sad. What has happened to us? We moved to Florida and suddenly we’re not fun anymore? What the hell is that about? We started a company that sells sex toys, for God’s sake. Our business is all about fun. When the six of us hung out back in the day, we had so much fun we almost got arrested. We had so much fun it resulted in a few of us going to the emergency room. Drew’s right. We are just sitting around, waiting to die. And like his stupid fishing hat says, we ain’t dead yet, motherfuckers.
“I could handle a little fun,” Jim suddenly states.
“I do have a brand new medical marijuana card for my bursitis I haven’t put to good use yet,” Liz muses.
“If we’re fucking shit up, can we still stop by the kitchen and get Jell-O before we get started?” Carter questions.
“Before we start making plans, Drew needs to take his stool softener,” Jenny announces to the group, leaning over the arm of her chair and grabbing her purse from the ground.
She sets it in her lap and digs around inside until she finds the blue, plastic, seven-day pill box, pulling it out and popping open the lid for today.
“I got you new ones since the old ones were huge and way too hard for you to swallow,” Jenny informs Drew.
“THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!” he shouts as he takes the little brown square from her fingers.
“You’ll like these ones better, baby. They’re chocolate chews!”
Drew holds the piece of medical chocolate in front of his face and studies it for a few minutes, before his eyes light up and he gets a devious look on his face.
“Claire, sweetie, honey, woman who my best friend knocked up at a frat party in college...do you and or Liz by any chance have a few boxes of sex toys sitting around in a closet at your condo?” Drew asks before popping the chocolate chew in his mouth.
“Why in the hell would we have boxes of sex toys? We don’t run the company anymore, remember? All the free samples and excess product goes to our kids now. I have my own personal stash in my nightstand drawer, same with Liz,” I tell him.
“Eeew, I don’t want anything from your own personal stash with your old lady vagina juices on
them,” Drew shudders.
“I have a box of butt plugs, two boxes of bullets, a half a box of strap-ons, four small boxes of nubby finger vibrators, and three boxes of g-spot touch finger vibes,” Jenny announces proudly.
“I knew there was a reason I married you,” Drew tells her, leaning over his chair to give her a kiss.
Drew pulls back from Jenny and points at Liz.
“Go put that medical marijuana card to good use and get us some awesome shit.”
“I can do that. I just have to check with Kevin and see if one of the golf carts are available,” Liz replies.
Kevin is a wonderful young man that works as the activities director for Park Summit. He not only schedules all sorts of things to do for the people who live here, but he also handles the schedule for the fleet of golf carts the retirement community owns that residents are free to use if we need to make a quick trip to the store or want to get away and go somewhere else for dinner.
“No golf cart!” Drew yells. “Jesus Christ, we’re trying to not be old. Only old people drive golf carts to the fucking marijuana dispensary. Take an Uber. Or a taxi. For shit’s sake, don’t tool up in there in a God damn golf cart. You people are a disgrace.”
Drew then turns to me and gives me a chin lift.
“Think you can whip up some baked goods for us when Liz gets back?”
It’s been a while since I’ve been in a kitchen, and I have to say, I really miss it. I was responsible for the “snacks” part of Seduction and Snacks, and my recipes are world famous now.
“You’re damn right I can,” I tell him with a smile.
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