Fixated

by Scarlett Avery

  “You’re quick.” I marvel at her wit. “That’s one of my good friends. We go way back. Speaking of which, I distinctly remember him asking you about your accent yesterday, but I don’t think you were in the mood to answer him.” I chuckle.

  “No offense, but he came on strong. Too strong.”

  “That was tame. My friend can be far more adamant than he was yesterday. I guess from your reaction you don’t know who he is?”

  She looks up at me, puzzled. “Am I supposed to?”

  “His name is Collin Dennison. Most people recognize him in LA. He has a legion of female fans who would do just about anything to catch his attention.” She looks at me blankly. “He’s somewhat of a celebrity,” I press on.

  “Oh, I can’t say I’ve seen any of his movies… unless he’s a singer. Either way, I haven’t got a clue who he is.”

  “He used to be big back in the day as a teen and young adult movie star. Then he crashed and burned. After a hiatus he’s reinvented himself as a fitness model. He also does more and more action movies. Him and his brother Shane make a fortune selling their calendars and photo collection books to millions of women willing to buy into the fantasy they’ve packaged so well.”

  She’s still looking at me as if none of this fazes her. That’s an uncommon reaction in this town.

  “It still doesn’t ring a bell, but I’m part of the minority who thinks that celebrities are people just like you and me,” she says, waving her index finger between the two of us. “The only major difference is that they have more money, more bling, more toys, more drama and a whole lot more to hide then the rest of us.” It’s so refreshing that she’s not hung up on Collin’s celebrity status. “Are you also a fitness model? Do women drool all over your calendars and photos of you in a skimpy swimsuit?” She waggles her eyebrows.

  I close my eyes and erupt in laughter. Her comment and expression catch me so off guard. It must take me at least a minute to stop laughing. “Oh, no. My profession isn’t nearly as glamorous.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “What?”

  Her eyes brush down the length of my body as if she’s undressing me. If she keeps this up, I might have to yank her over my shoulder and take her to my SUV. Thank God for tinted windows. “You could’ve fooled me. You’re more built than your friend is.”

  She’s not as innocent as she seems.

  “Is that your way of saying you like my body?”

  “I didn’t say that,” she retorts.

  “Not in so many words, but it’s definitely implied.”

  “Someone’s cocky.”

  “Very. Especially when a beautiful woman makes blatant advances on me.”

  “I did not.” She looks alarmed.

  “There’s nothing wrong with liking what you see.”

  There she goes blushing again and my cock twitches in response. “So are you going to tell me how you keep this fit?” she asks, ignoring my comment.

  “Do you really want me to reveal my secret?” I tease.

  “Of course, or else I wouldn’t be standing here with bated breath dying to know.”

  Oh, I can give you much better reason to be out of breath.

  “Lots and lots of sex. The raunchier the better, because it burns more calories.”

  “Really? That’s all you’ve got? You couldn’t come up with a better answer?” The sarcasm is unmistakable.

  I love how she’s not taking me too seriously, but I’m so in the mood to push her buttons a bit more. “Listen, Miranda, I think you’re coming on to me way too strong for my comfort. First you try to find out if I’m single and now you let me know you’ve been checking out my body. As if that wasn’t enough, you expect me to reveal all my dirty little secrets?” I pause dramatically, cross one arm over my chest and bring the hand that’s still holding the oranges to my crotch to hide my cock before speaking again. “I feel so exposed and vulnerable.”

  She loses it. She roars with the type of contagious laughter that has everyone around us turning around, curious to find out what triggered this petite woman’s joyfulness. She wipes tears from under her eyes while struggling to regain her composure. “Hunter Evans, I can’t believe you made me laugh so hard I end up crying. You have a wicked sense of humor.”

  “Well, thank you, ma’am.”

  “Now that you pulled a fast one on me, are you going to finally tell me what you do for a living to look like you’re a cross between a pro surfer and a MMA fighter?”

  “No.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m teasing. I just wanted to see your face turn that pretty shade of pink it does when you’re embarrassed.” I snicker. “In answer to your question, I’m a tech geek turned rancher.”

  Her brows pull together in confusion—at least I think it’s confusion. “Come again?”

  “I used to own a big dotcom company with my best friend and business partner Jake. We sold it to a giant in the tech world and we left Silicon Valley looking for a fresh start. Almost six years ago we moved out to Fort Collins, Colorado and bought an Angus beef ranch and we’ve never looked back. Although we hire cowboys to manage the day-to-day operation of our first ranch and the second one we just acquired, I still do a lot of manual work. My best friend and I built a small gym with a kickass weight area in one of our empty barns to build up muscle in order to lift and carry heavy loads with more ease. I guess that combination is what keeps me in shape.” I pause for a beat. “That and all the raunchy sex, of course.” I wink.

  She rewards my last comment by hitting her small fist against my bicep. Instinctively I flex. “Wow,” she says.

  “Are you surprised by my revelation or my toned muscles?” I mock.

  “Both,” she says, her eyes still fixated on my body.

  “Seriously, it’s hard work,”

  “But you obviously love it.” Damn, she’s as sharp as a whip.

  “I would’ve lost good money way back when we took on this new venture, but today, I can’t see myself doing anything else.”

  “It’s very rewarding, then?”

  I nod. “We’re very lucky. We have loyal and hard-working employees and both of our ranches are extremely profitable.”

  “So what are you doing out here?” She’s drop-dead beautiful and smart. God, save me.

  “Good question. I grew up in LA so I come back regularly to visit my family. This time around, my extended stay in California is purely business. I still get to see my family, but I have a tight agenda. I’m out here to expand business with some of the biggest restaurateurs in the state. I’ve already been in LA for a week and I have three—maybe four—more to go and then I’m going back to Fort Collins. Bye-bye smog. Open air, here I come.”

  “That’s exactly why I like to go back home to Savannah.”

  We walk around the market while getting better acquainted. I’m taken aback by how easy it is to talk to Miranda. She seems unaffected not only by Collin’s celebrity status, but also by my own success. I rarely share this much about my business. Heck, in many cases I use my middle name, James, when bar-hopping because it doesn’t take long for someone to do a Google search. Traces of my colossal success can be found all over the Internet. This means that I can quickly become an ATM machine when some women discover the extent of my wealth, but Miranda never gives off that vibe.

  We’ve been chatting animatedly and laughing our heads off. I share more about my life in Fort Collins and she keeps me entertained with tales of her life since moving to Los Angeles. I planned on driving up to Malibu, but there’s no way I’m leaving. Not when I’m enjoying myself so much.

  Miranda is buying up a storm and I’ve been following her cue. Considering how much food I already have back at the Santa Monica estate I’m renting, I haven’t got a clue where I’m going to stock this food, but honestly, I don’t care as long as I get to spend more time with her. We must have been walking for several hours because suddenly I realize I’m famished.

  I’m just about to sugg
est we stop, but she precedes me. “Hunter, are you hungry?”

  “I’m six-five, I can always eat. And to be honest I’m starved.”

  “I’m so happy to hear you say that because I’m absolutely starved too.”

  “What are you in the mood for? Mexican? Cajun? Burgers? Pizza? Pulled pork?”

  This is usually the biggest test with a woman. Most women I’ve been out with in this city fail this one miserably. I’d be thoroughly disappointed if she said she wanted to nibble on a salad.

  She opens her mouth to respond, but suddenly she’s very distracted. “Oh, my God. He’s here. You’re going to love this,” she exclaims.

  I look at her, confused. “You’ve lost me.”

  She points to a food counter behind me. “This guy is a new vendor. I’ve only seen him here for the last couple of weeks, but sweet Jesus, he knows a thing or two about a big, fat, juicy, mouthwatering sausage.”

  Oh, I’m pretty sure I can help in that department as well. “I assume we’re talking about a hot dog and not anything sexual?”

  “Puh-lease, get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “It’s quite the challenge around you.” I smirk.

  She purses her lips. “These are the best hot dogs on the planet. Take my word for it.”

  “If your reaction is any indication, then I’m in for a treat. Lead the way, woman.”

  I follow Miranda and lucky for us we don’t have to wait too long before being served. After placing our order, I grab our tray and we head to an unoccupied table. When we get there, I drop her plate and her Coke in front of her before placing a heaping order of fresh-cut fries in the middle for both of us to share. I sit down across from her, eager to eat. My mouth is watering at the sight of this hot dog.

  “Thank you so much for this and thanks for treating me to lunch.”

  “It’s my pleasure and it gives me a chance to hang out with you a little longer. I’ve had a great time so far.”

  We lock eyes for a few long seconds. Neither of us says anything until she clears her throat and lowers her eyes.

  “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

  “I really mean it.”

  She blinks a few times and even before she speaks, I already know she’ll veer the conversation to safer grounds. “Good Lord, I couldn’t stop dreaming of this foot-long sausage for days after I had it the first time. It was so thick, I struggled to get it into my mouth, but I was determined and unwilling to give up just because it was much bigger than anything else I’d ever had up til then.” Wait until you have my very big cock inside your mouth, now that’s a worthwhile challenge. Miranda reaches out to the middle of the table and grabs condiments to top her hot dog. I watch her in amazement and I have to bite down on my tongue to avoid making a crude comment. “I can’t get enough of Sriracha sauce. It must be because I’m from the South and there’s Italian running though my veins.” She’s licking her lips as she spreads the Thai chili sauce in copious amounts.

  My God. I look down at my food and try to think of something else, but I can’t. If I don’t say it, I’ll burst. “You mean cock sauce?”

  “Excuse me?” she asks, freaked out.

  “Cock sauce,” I say, pointing at the plastic bottle she’s holding. “You seem to be a big fan of it.”

  Her eyes bounce from the red sauce to my mischievous gaze. “I’ve never heard anyone call it like this before. Do you have an aversion at calling it by its name?”

  “It’s the proper name.”

  “No, it’s not,” she scolds.

  “See that on the bottle? It’s a rooster, right?”

  “Yes.” She’s amused but her facial impression indicates she’s also cautious.

  “What’s another name for rooster? Cock.” I don’t even let her answer. “Hence, cock sauce.” I grin from ear to ear. “You can take the man off the ranch, but you can’t take the rancher out of the man.”

  Once again I have her in stitches. “Honestly, Hunter, I’m so happy I bumped into you. You’re a riot to be around.”

  “I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t resist. I knew you’d take the bait.”

  “I did. I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.” She shakes her head. “So does it mean no cock sauce for you?” she asks, handing me the Sriracha.

  “Nah, I think you have enough for both of us.”

  “Suit yourself, but I think you’re missing out. The sauce brings out the juiciness of the sausage so much.”

  I doubt she realizes how torturous it is to hear her talk about food, because all these inappropriate thoughts keep bouncing in my head.

  “I’ll take your word for it. I like the sauce, but only on Asian food,” I say, lowering my eyes. “I can’t wait to find out if this is half as good as you promised.”

  “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

  I’d love nothing more.

  I’m about to take a bite, but freeze with my hot dog in mid-air, stunned. My jaw drops in amazement.

  Miranda opens her mouth and guides her hot dog into her mouth. I’m sure it’s not intended that way, but the act is purely sexual. “Mmm,” she moans, biting down on the juicy sausage slowly, closing her eyes and savoring every bite. Jesus. The way she’s enjoying that puts every porn movie I’ve ever watched to shame. My cock is so hard, it’s uncomfortable.

  I try not to stare, but my gaze is fixated on her lips. Holy hell. Saliva gathers in my mouth and I swallow hard before speaking. “That good, huh?” I whisper huskily.

  “Mm-hmmm.”

  Fuck. She’s killing me.

  A few droplets of cock sauce drizzle from the side of her mouth down her chin and the only thing I want to do is lunge forward and lick it clean before crushing her lips with mine.

  “You weren’t lying when you said these are the best you’ve ever had.”

  “Uh-huh. I wasn’t.” She exhales between bites. “Why aren't you eating?”

  Because I’d rather imagine feasting on that sweet juicy pussy while you eat my cock with the same passion and ardor you are that foot-long. “I was about to. I wanted to see how you liked yours first,” I lie.

  “You don’t want to wait for it to cool down. You want to eat it while it’s hot.”

  “Oh, I believe you.”

  “Dig in, you won’t regret it.”

  Once I’m able to block out all the salacious images of Miranda and the long hot dog she’s devouring, I’m finally ready to focus on mine. The way she’s been going on about it, I figured it’d be delicious, but after the first bite, I realize this is so much more than a frank. This is perfection. I swallow my hot dog in a few bites before attacking the fries, since Miranda’s only been nibbling on them. Once I polish them off, I notice she’s left half her hot dog intact.

  “You’re done?”

  She nods. “I can never eat more than this,” she says, looking down at her unfinished food.

  “Can I?” I ask, reaching out.

  “Be my guest.” She lifts her plate and hands it to me.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Two bites and her hot dog is gone. She laughs when she sees how quickly I inhale it. She was right. These are off the charts.

  That said, her enthusiasm seems to go much further than just these being tasty. I can’t help but wonder when this gorgeous, curvy beauty was last properly fucked. Come on, a woman who has a man who knows how to satisfy her doesn’t have this extreme reaction to food. If she isn’t getting any or if her guy is a complete moron incapable of giving her mind-blowing orgasms, then maybe this is the only way for her to get any pleasure. Crying shame, if you ask me. Sure, vibrators are great and get the job done, so I’ve been told, and fingers can relieve some tension, but nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to the way I voraciously eat a woman’s pussy. When I’m into you, I’ll lick, suck and flick your little clit until you come screaming all over my tongue. End of story.

  She must notice me staring, because she blushes. “What?” I ask innocently.

  “The way
you’re looking at me… it’s so intense.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just wondering if I was game to go and buy another one,” I say, pointing to my empty plate. Since it’s partially true, it’s not a lie, right?

  “You can’t possibly be serious.”

  “I’m six-five, I work on a ranch and I’m very physically active.” I’ll spare you the real details of my sex life since I’ve been back to LA. “Trust me, I totally could, but I just noticed a guy walking around with a giant ice cream sandwich and I think I’ll leave room for that instead.”

  “Those must be from Heavenly Moo Creamery. They usually have an ice cream truck parked over there,” she says, turning around to the far left corner of the market. “I can’t even finish half of one of those. They’re way too massive for me. And now with half a sausage in my stomach, I couldn’t even think of having more than a bite or two.”

  God, I love the fact that she’s a woman who’s not afraid to eat.

  “Tell you what.”

  “What?” she asks excitedly, sitting a little straighter on her chair.

  “Why don’t we both head over there, I’ll buy one”—I pause to make sure I have her full attention—”and you can nibble on mine.”

  She raises her eyebrow. This girl is so sharp, I know I can’t pull a fast one on her. “There’s something slightly perverted about the way you said that, Mr. Evans.” Oh, you have no idea. “But it’s such a tempting offer, there’s no way I can refuse.”

  “Awesome. Let’s do it.”

  This entire conversation since we sat here to eat gives a whole new meaning to food porn.

  * * *

  After our out-of-this-world dessert, we continue hopping from one food merchant to another, chatting, laughing and buying up a storm. Within an hour, we’re so weighed down with groceries Miranda needs a break. She drops everything at her feet and rummages through her backpack.

  “You’ve been keeping me so entertained, I lost track of time,” she says, turning on her iPhone. “Yikes. I have to go.”

  “Already?” I can hear the disappointment in my voice.

  “I’m having so much fun, I’d love to stay a little longer, Hunter, but I have a big fancy party I’m attending tonight with my best friend and I still don’t have a dress—or shoes, for that matter. Not to mention I have to get my hair done. My hair appointment is in an hour in Venice Beach—if I can make it there on time.”