LOL #2 Romantic Comedy Anthology - Volume 2 - Even More All-New Romance Stories by Bestselling Authors (LOL Romantic Comedy Anthology #2)

by Anthology

  Gnawing on the chop, I opened the top box and peered inside.

  Cupcakes.

  I glanced over my shoulder and listened for sounds upstairs to make sure I wouldn’t get caught.

  Nothing.

  Something bumped my leg and I dropped the bowl of noodles on the floor where it clattered and spilled its contents.

  Babe’s long tail thumped against the cabinet doors.

  Damn dog.

  At least I hadn’t squealed like a girl.

  Before I could say anything, he gobbled a big pile of casserole.

  “No,” I scolded him. He looked up at me and took another bite before sitting down. “Stay.”

  He cocked his head and his tail whacked the floor. I swear he licked his lips, too.

  I turned on the under cabinet lights and then grabbed some paper towels to clean up the mess. Bending over, I wiped up the noodles.

  “Midnight snack?” Diane leaned in the doorway behind me.

  “Yeah. I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d watch some soccer.” I stood and noticed she was wearing one of my flannel shirts. Her hair was all messed up and she looked sleepy and beautiful, and her arms were crossed.

  Uh oh.

  She stepped closer and bit into the pork chop still in my hand. “With dessert?”

  The lid to the bakery box stood ajar. Busted.

  “Were they off limits?’ I asked.

  “Not exactly, but I thought we could, um,” she paused, “eat them together.”

  So much could be said within a single pause.

  “Together?” I held out the pork chop for her to take another bite.

  “Mmm hmm,” she said, licking her lips and chewing.

  “What did you have in mind?” I picked up the box and put it on the island between us.

  She removed the chop from my fingers and set it on the counter before opening the box. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Love?”

  Her eyes met mine.

  “I’m getting the feeling you meant something specific.”

  She stared at the frosting.

  I waited.

  Not meeting my eyes, she explained, “When we were at the bakery, I had this fantasy.”

  “Fantasy?”

  “Involving you, me, and some frosting.”

  “Food fantasy?”

  She nodded.

  I moved closer and caged her against the island with my arms. “Tell me more.”

  “That’s about it. All that licking and sweet frosting earlier did something for me.”

  “I’d like to do something for you.” I lifted her up to the counter next to the box.

  “All those women were lusting after you.”

  “So?” I nuzzled her neck.

  “I had this overwhelming urge to sit on your lap and make out with you so they’d stop staring at you.”

  My woman was jealous. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to the edge of the counter. “Jealous? Of the pink fuzzy woman?”

  “I saw what she did with her fork. It was pornographic.”

  I chuckled and kissed the spot at the corner of her jaw that always made her squirm. “Yeah, that was weird, but you know you have nothing to worry about. No cougar, no matter how hot her sweat suit is, will ever lure me away from you. Ever.” I stared into her beautiful eyes.

  “I know, I know, but I still wanted to mark you as mine.”

  “You’re wearing my ring.”

  I let my gaze rest on her left finger on the counter where my mom’s ring sparkled. It has only been two months since I proposed, but I doubted I’d ever stop feeling my heart flip over every time I saw it on her hand.

  Her arms draped around my neck and she pulled me down to her, kissing me while she wrapped her legs around my waist.

  “You being jealous is all kinds of hot, in case you were wondering.” I returned her kiss, letting my tongue find hers. Her boobs pressed against my chest and my hands wandered between us to cup them through my shirt. “I love you in my shirts.”

  She hummed in contentment when my thumbs brushed across her nipples. Her hips rocked forward to brush against the front of my boxers. Her warm heat transferred to my dick.

  I reluctantly pulled back from her lips. “So about this fantasy of yours? I squished my index finger into some frosting and swept a line of pink frosting over her cheek.

  She squirmed and giggled. “John…”

  “What? This is your fantasy. Or was frosting on your face not what you were thinking?” Another swipe of frosting found its way onto her skin, this time on her exposed collarbone.

  Her hand moved to wipe the frosting from her cheek, but I stopped her. “No, let me.”

  I slowly, carefully, and maybe torturously, licked the sweet, sticky substance from her skin. Leaning back, I met her stare, and then licked my lips. “Delicious. But we’re going to need to lose the shirt.”

  My shirt fell to the floor in a blur of movement. I blinked, taking in naked Diane on the counter.

  This wouldn’t be the first time we had sex in this kitchen. My mind flashed back to pancakes, and more importantly, maple syrup, on this very island. I felt myself harden at the memory.

  Diane’s finger dipped into the frosting and she traced a circle with it on my bicep, before shadowing the line with her tongue. Her warm mouth contrasted with the cool air she breathed on my skin after, creating goose-flesh on my arm. I reacted by flexing my hips into her center. Her gasp let me know she felt my tip brush across her. Quickly after, her hands shoved my boxers down my legs. She used her feet to push them to the floor.

  “Lean back,” I told her.

  She followed my instructions and lay there beautifully exposed to me.

  “So beautiful.” I kissed a line from the hollow of her collarbones down to her navel, but didn’t go any further south, knowing she was on the verge of begging me. Instead, I peered inside the box and found a small container of red syrup. I prayed it was raspberry sauce when I opened it. The scent of ripe berries enveloped me as I drizzled some over her belly and tits. Thick, red dots covered her nipples and slowly slid down over the slope of her breast to drip on her skin below. I poked out my tongue to catch a drop and then kissed her, her own taste mixing with the berries. Damn, I loved the way she tasted.

  Her hands wandered over my arms and chest. She reached over for the frosting and circled her boobs with chocolate.

  “You’re going to kill me.” I leaned down and licked her skin clean. I sucked on her nipples a little harder than was nice, but I wanted to make sure they were clean.

  “Oww… mmm,” Diane moaned and turned her head. Another finger-full of frosting found its way onto my skin, this time on my neck.

  I cocked my head to allow her access to lick it off. She bit my ear lobe before lying back down.

  Two could play at the teasing game.

  I stepped back from the counter’s edge and slid my hands down her thighs. Grabbing the sauce, I poured a thin line from one knee to the other, pausing to let some pool between her legs. Starting at her right knee, I licked up the sauce, letting my beard drag along her skin where my tongue had just been. I had to use my hands to still her squirming as I tortured her.

  I let my breath hover over her center but didn’t lick up the sauce there before I moved to the other leg and my sticky path to her knee.

  “John…” Diane’s voice was tense, almost annoyed.

  I smiled into her thigh to hide my amusement. I knew she’d get me back, but this was too much fun to stop. When I reached her knee, I lifted up her leg and rested her calf on my shoulder. Her eyes slowly opened and she glared at me. Or tried to glare. The lust and need I saw there clouded out her pretend anger. I nipped her calf and bent forward to finish the job.

  Every inch between her thighs was covered in raspberry sauce, and it pooled on the counter beneath her. This would be messy.

  Not that I complained.

  I licked and sucked, covering my beard in sweet, sticky Diane. I
braced her other leg on my shoulder and wrapped my hands under her legs and around her hips. As she began to buck against my tongue, I found the spot inside that would push her over the edge. Two fingers slightly curled were all it took for her to lose herself. The taste of Diane combined with berries became my new favorite flavor. I kept lapping at her until her hands tugging on my hair stilled me.

  I stood and grinned at her.

  “You are a fine mess, Day.” She crooked her finger at me and I bent to kiss her.

  “Yeah?” I dragged a finger through the mess I had just made on her. “So are you.” I sucked on my finger before kissing her again.

  She giggled. “You’re all sticky, and your beard smells of sex and berries.”

  “I may never wash my face again.” I licked the corner of my mouth.

  “My turn.” She hopped off the counter. With a devilish gleam in her eye, she scooped up all the chocolate frosting from a cupcake and reached for my dick. Cool, smooth icing coated me as she moved her hand from the base to tip.

  “This is a first.”

  “What?”

  “Frosting hand job. Where were you in junior high?”

  “Girls were giving you hand jobs in junior high?”

  “Not really and never with frosting.”

  Her eyebrow raised in question.

  I shrugged. “Late bloomer, remember? Scrawny kid who lived and breathed soccer? The Nineties weren’t my best decade.”

  She bent at the waist to lick me. “Nothing scrawny about you now.”

  That was the last thing she said for a while. Hard to talk with a mouthful of frosting.

  Closing my eyes, I leaned against the counter as she used her mouth to remove every trace of frosting. Her tongue ran up the underside and I jerked in response. My hand on the counter knocked the box onto the floor, but I couldn’t care less. If I didn’t stop her soon, I’d finish in her mouth. Not tonight. I had other plans.

  My hand resting on her cheek paused her movements. Her eyes blinked open and met mine. Nothing could be hotter than seeing her from this angle. She slowly dragged her lips over the tip and held me in her hand. Her eyes held a silent question.

  “I’m close and you need to stop.”

  Her lips rose in a knowing smile. “Where do you want me?”

  “Floor,” I grunted out when her hand squeezed me.

  She tumbled backward and I followed, landing between her thighs. Something sticky pressed into my knee and she still had sauce on her hips.

  “We’re a mess,” she said between kisses.

  “This isn’t going to be slow and sweet.” I nipped her shoulder.

  A giggle followed her moan. “Pun intended?”

  “No.” I lined up with her entrance and thrust inside in one movement. “I was thinking hard and fast.”

  “Mmm, my favorite.”

  She rolled on top and I held onto her hips as she rode me. Nothing sweet about her now.

  I flipped us back over and kneeled, lifting her hips with me. That did it. I was so deep in this position; my vision started to darken in the corners, and a familiar building feeling pushed me toward the point-of-no-return.

  With a low growl, I pumped and then stilled as I came inside her.

  Damn.

  We lay sprawled out on the kitchen floor for a few minutes in the quiet. She had frosting in her hair and I still had sauce in my beard. Cake crumbs laid on her naked chest from where she nibbled on a squashed cupcake. I pressed a finger into one of the chocolate crumbs and licked it off. The counter and floor were both covered in our mess. Even my shirt had frosting on it where it lay on the floor next to my boxers.

  “Who knew cake could be so much fun?” I asked.

  “See? You were so cranky about Sweet Endings. I knew the cake would change your mind.”

  “I don’t think you naked with frosting in your hair and a raspberry flavored pussy were what Cassandra had in mind when she opened the pink palace of cake.”

  Her hand landed on my shoulder with a thwack. “John Day!”

  “What?” I rubbed my shoulder. She hit like a boy.

  “That sweet woman didn’t name her bakery after some sort of sex euphemism.”

  “Are you sure? It’s always the ones in the dumpy cardigans who turn out to be the biggest perverts. At least in my experience.” I dodged her hand and pulled her onto my lap.

  “We burned that sweater, remember?” Her hands tugged at my beard at the corner of my jaw.

  “Still doesn’t change the fact that inside all that wool was the naked girl sitting in my lap right now.”

  She ground her hips into mine, stirring me back to life. I knew she felt me getting hard beneath her by the way her eyes widened.

  “And you, Mr. Day, are a horn-dog in flannel clothing.”

  “Did you just call me a horn-dog?”

  “Yep. Seemed to fit the whole frosting hand-job conversation from earlier.”

  “Can’t argue with that logic. Speaking of flannel, we should have a plaid cake.”

  “Plaid?”

  “Yeah, like my shirt. Better than pink any day.”

  “Maybe for the groom’s cake?”

  “I get my own cake? Do I have to share it? Like with the guests? Or just the best man? ‘Cause I’m not sure I’d want to give Donnely any. I mean, it’s not the groomsmen cake.” This sounded like a great idea to me.

  “John?”

  “Yes, Diane?”

  “Let’s get married”

  I grinned at her and kissed her nose. “Already doing that.” I picked up a piece of red velvet cake from the crushed box on the floor. “Remember? Wedding cake tasting is how we ended up here.”

  “No, I mean, now.”

  “Right now?” I wiped off a spot of chocolate on her cheek and held it up to her.

  She sucked on my finger. “No, not this minute. Just soon. Soon and no fancy Seattle wedding cakes. We can do it on the beach—”

  “We’ve already done it on the beach. A few times if I remember correctly. That time by the beach fire, christening the new outdoor shower.” I interrupted her. I couldn’t help myself.

  “You know what I mean. I never wanted fancy or big.”

  I lifted my eyebrows and my beard twitched.

  “Stop! I’m not talking about your dick or having sex with you.” Exasperated, she wove her fingers into my hair and pulled my head back.

  “Okay, I’ll focus. But you get any feistier and I won’t be able to concentrate.”

  She growled and I kissed her. A few minutes later she was panting, but no longer frustrated with me.

  “Can we have my aunt’s chocolate cake?”

  “Yes, I was going to ask her to make it for us anyway.”

  I frowned at her. “So today was for?”

  She pressed her lips together and looked over my shoulder. I grabbed her ass and squeezed to get her attention.

  “I heard their cakes were amazing and wanted to try them. And you like cake. So it seemed like a win-win for everyone.”

  “Diane…”

  “You can’t be mad. You got cake, and frosting. And a frosting hand-job.” She squirmed off of my lap before I could catch her.

  “I had to play the Beast in a tiny pink theater production of Beauty and the Beast today for your amusement?” I stalked her around the counter. Naked or not, covered in sauce, frosting, and cake crumbs, she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. How she was mine and wanting to be my wife, I wasn’t going to question. All that being said, she was still in trouble.

  I paused and she scampered toward the hall.

  “Oh, you better run, Mrs. Day.” I counted to ten to give her a head-start up the stairs. When I heard her turn on the shower, I pounded up the stairs after her.

  I loved shower sex even more than cake.

  One thing about the Sweet Endings experience, both the bakery and what happened in our kitchen, was I could never look at red velvet cake or raspberry sauce the same way again. Thur
sday night back at the Dog House it was just Donnely and I playing pool. Diane had a late Pilates client and promised to meet us after. Her studio was only two blocks away in Langley’s small downtown. I offered to meet her and walk her back, but she insisted she’d be fine walking at night. It’s not like we lived in the city. Hell, the Dog House was the only real tavern in this four street town.

  Donnely racked up the balls and then took solids. “How’d the wedding planning go? You get your balls monogrammed yet?”

  I ignored him and took my shot.

  “I’m taking your silence as a yes. Damn, I can’t believe in a year you’ve gone from bachelor to married.”

  “We’re not married yet.”

  “Having cold feet?”

  “Not at all. I would have kept driving over the pass to the Hitching Post in Post Falls if she said yes. It’s the wedding I’m not looking forward to. All the fuss.”

  “Hey, didn’t you get free cake out of the deal last weekend? Can I fake being engaged and go get free shit?”

  Pink dots flashed in my peripheral vision like some sort of post-traumatic stress. “Trust me, you’d never survive the process. Tom Cats can’t be domesticated.”

  Donnely frowned. “You never know.”

  “That’ll be the day.” I laughed. When he didn’t joke back, I raised my eyebrow at him, but he lined up his shot and refused to look at me. I shrugged it off. He’d tell me what was going on when he was ready.

  “The free cake was pretty amazing, but I swear the woman and the place were the creepiest things you’ve ever seen.” I told him about the dancing cakes on the toilet. We laughed about the cougar and the fork.

  “I’ve been with an older woman before,” Tom confessed.

  “Just one?”

  “I mean like mid-forties.”

  “And?”

  “She was wild in bed. Totally hot.” He sipped his beer and paused in memory. “I would have gone out with her again.”