The Ice Cream Shop Boy #3 (Erotic Romance)

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The Ice Cream Shop Boy #3 (Erotic Romance) Page 4

by Mimi Strong


  I gulped hard as the tide of nausea rose. I clenched my teeth and breathed deeply, repeating in my head, I will not throw up, I will not throw up.

  “I should get back to my group.” I quickly turned and walked away, trying to move my legs without jostling the rest of my body, praying I wouldn't throw up, but heading toward a garbage pail, just in case.

  I got to the garbage and tossed the ice cream in, untasted. I did not throw up. I walked back over to my friends and sat back down on Chad's lap, as if nothing had happened.

  I didn't sleep with Chad.

  Oh, I wanted to, especially after seeing Zach with that horrible woman. She'd been attractive, albeit a little too made-up and sparkly for my personal taste, but in my imagination, she only got worse the more I thought about her. I kept seeing her, screaming out his name as he sexed her up standing against a wall. She totally seemed like the screaming-bang-me-against-a-wall type.

  Sleeping with lawyer Chad promised to make me feel desirable again.

  I wanted a man to say I was beautiful, and that any man who'd walk away from me was a damn fool.

  Instead, I turned down Chad's request for a second date.

  I went into a fancy chocolate store on the way home, bought a big, expensive gift box of chocolates, took them back to my place, and ate them until I was in a cocoa-butter oblivion.

  The next day at work, an otherwise regular Friday, we were all laid off.

  Delphinia was wearing a sample dress from our new maternity line, in a plum shade that matched her nails. She had plum-colored beads at the ends of her cornrow braids. Despite the laying-off bombshell, she looked radiant and catalog-perfect as she put the personal effects from her desk into a filing box. She was actually whistling.

  I took the news well and did not throw up. (Not throwing up was my new baseline for taking things well.)

  Delphinia was taking the news much better than I was, and she explained, “I have a job waiting in New York. Can you imagine?”

  “But … you're having a baby.”

  “Just one,” she said, laughing. “I know it looks like twins, but it's just one, and my plan is to hire an amazing assistant who can take over some of my responsibilities so I can work closer to part-time.”

  Looking down at the hideous carpet—carpet I would not miss—I said, “Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

  She snapped her fingers in front of my face.

  “The assistant is you,” she said.

  “Me?” Images of New York flashed before my eyes. They were mostly images from TV and movies, since I'd only been there once, briefly.

  “Your salary will be double, but I have to warn you, it won't go as far. Rent in New York is not as reasonable as Columbus, Ohio.”

  “Uh ...” More images of skeezy apartments with bathtubs in the kitchen flashed through my head. I got a little queasy.

  “I do have an apartment for you,” she said. “My new place has a separate apartment in the basement. It's meant to be for a housekeeper, and we were going to reinstate the staircase and renovate, but we don't need all the space until the baby's older. You can rent it, and we'll give you a good deal.”

  “Uh, Del? It's been, like, an hour since we got the news, and you have everything figured out. I guess you're psychic or something.”

  “Laura, the writing's been on the wall for ages.”

  “I don't like the writing on the wall. I ignore it.”

  “At your peril,” she said, grinning. “So, will you take the job? Move to New York?”

  I thought about the resumes I'd sent out—the dozens that hadn't resulted in any decent offers. I'd miss my friends, but I had nothing tying me down to Columbus. Definitely no boyfriend.

  “I'll take the job,” I said. “I guess I'm moving to New York.”

  As I helped her box up the rest of her desk, we worked out a few more of the details. Delphinia explained that she'd had the offer come in ages ago, and accepted the job a week before. Her husband had traveled to New York on his own and found the apartment through some business friends of his, Dominic and Sascha, who'd just been in town visiting.

  “Who?” I asked. “Sascha?” I thought of the blonde by the same name I'd spotted with Zach. Remembering that woman, I saw so much red, I couldn't follow what Delphinia was saying about a restaurant chain and a celebrity chef and something to do with her husband's investments.

  She pulled out her phone and showed me a picture of Dominic and Sascha. I was shocked. Sascha was the woman I'd seen at the ice skating rink with Zach. Delphinia kept talking, giving me more details about her husband's friends. The two were recently engaged, which meant the woman I'd seen with Zach at the skating rink was not with Zach, but with some man named Dominic.

  “Bucket,” I said, pointing.

  Delphinia grabbed the plastic recycling bin from under her desk and plopped it in front of me.

  Waving my hand over my sweaty face, I calmed my gag reflexes down.

  After a deep breath, I said, “False alarm. I'm okay.” After another breath, I said, “So, do you know Zach Mikhelson?”

  She smiled. “Yes! That's why I switched our ice cream account over to Butter Spoons. He's an acquaintance of my husband's, through Sascha.”

  “Small world.”

  “He's the one who set us up with the townhouse in New York. He lives next door.”

  “Wow.” I was clutching Delphinia's desk, my knuckles white, so I let go and took a seat in her guest chair. “Remember the dog-walk guy I dated briefly in the summer? That was Zach.”

  She rubbed her burgeoning baby bump. “Huh. Interesting.”

  I frowned. “Interesting? What does that mean, Del?”

  “Nothing. I don't know. It's probably nothing.”

  “Tell me, c'mon, don't make me beg.”

  She kept rubbing the baby bump. “Zach Mikhelson is kind of cold, and I picture you being with someone more … earthy. You're like sunshine and he's like snow. I can see why it didn't work out with you two.”

  I let her words wash over me and resisted the urge to argue. Hearing someone else summarize you in a few words is always so disconcerting—that they think you're so simple, and that they're always so damn wrong.

  Zach Mikhelson was in town, and he wasn't dating some cupcake-tarted-up blonde. I thought about calling him, but didn't.

  First, I had to pack up my desk and leave the job I'd had for the last two years, two months, and seventeen days. That job had been the beginning of my adult life, and now, without it, what was I?

  Back at my apartment, I dropped the cardboard file box on the floor inside the door and went straight to my bedroom, where I had a multi-hour nap.

  I woke up in the dark at ten o-clock. Princess was begging for a walk, so I took her out, even though there was a chance I might run into Zach and his dog Duke. Princess and I took a right turn instead of the usual left, and I kept my eyes open for him. He'd mentioned at the skating rink that he'd altered his route, so I tried to figure out where that route might be.

  I honestly thought I'd run into him that night. We'd talk, and explain away the crossed signals, then he'd take me in his arms, kiss me, and the months that had passed since we were together would disappear.

  Instead, I walked around for nearly an hour and got only cold feet and a runny nose from the chilly wind.

  I was nearly back to my place when I stopped. I was in front of Zach's building. I stared up at the windows, noting that about half of them had lights on. I pulled out my phone and made the call.

  Princess, warmer than me in her thick sweater, ate some snow.

  When Zach answered, I said, “It's Laura. What floor are you on?”

  He said, “Top floor.”

  “Of course you are.”

  Something moved in one of the upper windows, and the shadow of a person appeared within the frame.

  He said, “Is that Princess?”

  I laughed. “Yes. She's wearing her best sweater. Is it too late for her to come
up and visit Duke? I mean … do you have anyone else over?”

  “To visit Duke? No, he's available.”

  As I stared up at the window, thinking about the prospect of being inside, the winter wind finally got to me, and I shivered from the cold, chilled through and through.

  “I'm freezing my butt off,” I said. “Are you going to invite me in or what?”

  There was a pause, and my heart broke. I didn't think it could break any more, then he said, “I'm sorry ...” and some other words.

  He didn't want me.

  I ended the call, turned around, and tried to leave with what little dignity I had left.

  I was looking both ways to cross the street when Zach ran up behind me.

  Panting, he said, “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “What's going on? I told you to come up. I'm sorry, my apartment's a bit messy, but you should come up. You look cold.”

  I looked down at his feet, clad only in socks. Princess was sniffing his socks and the cuffs of his corduroy trousers with great interest.

  I explained that I'd misheard what he'd said on the phone, and followed him back into his place.

  The lobby was spare and minimal, nicer than the one for my building. Unlike my place, his had an elevator, though the building was only four floors high. We were both quiet on the trip up, his cool eyes revealing nothing.

  He opened the door to his place and Duke came bounding out, jumping on me and then knocking Princess right over in his exuberance. He had the same pale blue eyes as Zach, with a round black patch over one eye and a speckled gray body. Princess rolled over, sneezed, and bounced around Duke like a puppy.

  “Just like that,” Zach said. “Together again with no hard feelings, as if no time has passed.”

  “Dogs are great.”

  “Yes, they are,” he said, showing me into his apartment.

  The place was more modest than I'd imagined, but still luxurious. The furniture was covered in an assortment of blankets—to protect the rented leather from Duke's nails, I imagined. The wood floors were dark, nearly black, and gleaming. The mess he'd mentioned was nowhere in sight. A red area rug stretched between the L-shaped sectional and a gas fireplace, which was turned on and so welcoming after freezing my butt off outside.

  I went straight to the raised stone mantle and took a seat, warming my back as Zach hung up my jacket as well as the cardigan I'd been wearing.

  “This is certainly a creative sweater,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  He pulled off his socks, which were wet from the snow, and took off my dog's sweater as well.

  Barefoot, he padded around, asking if I wanted cocoa or tea or brandy.

  “Brandy,” I said without hesitation.

  I gave the place a visual scouring, looking for any hints of a girlfriend. I found no signs, but the art on the wall—framed images of colorful flowers—intrigued me.

  Zach came back and sat cross-legged on the rug just in front of me. I took a sip of the brandy, which burned so good, all the way down.

  I glanced around, saying, “Is any of this art yours, or did it all come with the furnished apartment?”

  “Not mine, but I like these things. They could very well be mine.”

  I stared into those icy blue eyes, framed so beautifully by thick, dark eyebrows. A lot of things could very well be his, including me.

  Smiling, I said, “I got canned from my job today.”

  His eyes flashed with surprise. “I'm so sorry to hear that.” He swirled the brandy in the glass and gave me a devastatingly sexy look. “Does that mean you're coming to work for me?”

  “I already have something lined up.” I cocked my head and gave him a saucy look. “I'm quite in demand, don'cha'know.”

  He laughed. “And you say that I have an accent. I'm the one who speaks normally. You'd never hear me say don'cha'know.”

  “Vat is dis? Dis is accent I have?”

  He groaned at my terrible Russian accent.

  “You vant to hear real ac-cent, you talk to my papa. Mee-ster Mikhelson. He say, 'How much for dog? I vant to buy dog.'” He pointed to Princess. “How much iss dogge?”

  “Dog is not for sale.” I giggled.

  “The L sound is at the back of throat. Not for sayul. Sayul. Dog iss not for sayul.”

  I repeated after him, “Dog iss not for sayul.”

  He put his brandy glass aside and grabbed my knees. “I buy dog. How much? Hey, you. You have boyfriend?”

  I shook my head. “No boyfriend.”

  “You be my girrrl-friend? We start tonight. I buy dog, you throw in girrrl-friend.”

  “Okay.”

  I was still on the hearth of the fireplace, and he sat up on his knees to kiss me. “We take slow,” he said.

  “We take slow.”

  His lips tasted of brandy, and were warm against mine. The fire flickered hot at my back, and the flesh between my legs ignited with Zach's kiss. His tongue penetrated my lips and I took him in eagerly.

  He pulled me to him, so we were both sprawled out in front of the fireplace, comfortable on the plush, red rug.

  He kissed me and stroked my legs and back, the two of us taking turns rolling over to be on top. I was dying for him to unbutton my jeans and fuck me right there, to take away the distance of those months we hadn't seen each other, but he didn't undress me and I didn't undress him.

  I ran my hands through his hair, which was shaggy and long compared to the brush cut I'd seen him with before. I licked and kissed his neck and nibbled on his earlobes.

  He kept his hands over my shirt, mostly on my back and playing with my hair.

  Our legs scissored together as we groped each other and kissed hungrily. As I sucked on his lips, I climbed on top of him and moved my hips rhythmically, grinding myself against his firm leg. Beneath my hip, I could feel his thick erection, hard as bone.

  We kissed and he slipped one hand up under my shirt and onto my skin, where it practically sizzled on contact. I moaned and ground myself harder against his leg, and he clutched my buttocks with his other hand and rocked me back and forth on him.

  A pleasant sensation began to blossom within my pussy, and then it happened. I was panting and grinding into him, coming. Even with my eyes closed, I saw the flickering orange of the fire, and then the sun, and everything went supernova bright.

  I gasped and collapsed onto him, panting near his ear. The orgasm had been more powerful, more intense than the ones I'd been giving myself with my toys. Zach kept running his hands over my back, through my hair.

  Nuzzling at my ear, he said, “I made you come.”

  “You did.”

  He bit my earlobe and said, “You're amazing, Laura. Why aren't we together?”

  I pulled back and gazed into those gorgeous pale eyes. “I don't know.”

  He caught my hand and brought it to his mouth, where he gently bit my knuckle. “We should be together.”

  “Okay.” The muscles deep within me were still pulsating. I tilted my hips and pressed myself into his leg as a pleasant aftershock rippled through me, curling my toes. “We're together now.”

  “Together.” He pulled my face down to his and kissed me.

  I was giddy from the orgasm, couldn't stop smiling, and he knew it. He pulled back and grinned, showing those boyish dimples of his.

  Without hesitation, I reached down and pulled at his shirt, yanking it off over his head. He looked like he'd been working too hard, getting too skinny, his waist tapering down into loose-fitting trousers, but he was still gorgeous. His skin was ridiculously smooth and so pleasant to touch. I ran my fingers down to the dark trail of curls below his navel and unfastened the pants.

  Underneath, he wore another pair of his scarlet-hued underwear, unable to contain the erection poking out of the top.

  I rolled him onto his back on the carpet, kissed my own fingertips, and touched them to the head of his penis, where I circled them around on the slick, gl
istening drops. The air was warm in front of the fireplace, so I paused to take off my top and my jeans, leaving on my underwear. Zach lay there, silently waiting.

  I pulled his underwear down, releasing his very full erection. Sated as I was by my orgasm, I took my sweet time, enjoying every second of our reunion. I rubbed my palm over the slickness on the head while stroking the shaft with my other hand. I stared at Zach's face, gauging his reaction, until he opened his eyes and grinned at me.

  “That feels nice,” he said.

  I squeezed him, enjoying seeing the end expand and deepen in hue. With my ex, Lars, I was used to giving a lot of blowjobs, and was used to feeling the cock more than seeing it. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed seeing it in my hands and being able to look at Zach's face and entire body. In a strange way, it felt even more intimate.

  “Question for you,” I said. “Just for reference, do you mind if a girl … you know, spits out after you come in her mouth?”

  He gave me a confused look. “Do I mind? Why would I mind? Laura, you can do anything you want to me, and I'll like it, I guarantee.” He tensed his abdominal muscles and sat up to kiss me. I was straddling his thighs facing him. He tucked my hair behind my ear and said, “I can understand if you don't want to get that stuff in your mouth. You can finish me with your hand, if you want. That would be nice.”

  He lay back down. “Or, we don't have to do anything. It's not your job. I'm fine with anything you want to do.”

  “Good.” I looked down at his cock, which had softened a little during our conversation, but with a few tugs, it was right back to full again.

  “Just ...” He took one of my hands and lay it across his stomach, the palm facing the head. “Maybe put up a barrier so it doesn't shoot into my eye.”

  I gasped. “It goes that far?”

  “Guess you don't watch much porn, huh?”

  I laughed and rubbed my cheek on my shoulder. No, I really didn't have that much experience, apparently, but I did enjoy learning. Oh, did I enjoy learning.

  I moved down on his legs so I could run my tongue up and down his shaft. His whole body shuddered underneath me as I took the head in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the slippery head, enjoying the salty taste and musky scent.

 

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