Chapter 33 #2
According to the message scrawled onto the town whiteboard, the prize for the maze is a pretty decent one. A thousand bucks in Apple Ridge Cash, i.e., gift certificates to every participating shop or restaurant in town, plus a gift basket from Gallagher farms.
Judy calls out another letter-number combo, and Theo laughs to himself. “Well, I’ll be damned. Bingo!”
Bianca: I can’t sleep.
Me: Why didn’t you knock?
Bianca: I didn’t want to wake you up.
Me: You can always wake me up.
Bianca: I think I want some apple pie.
Me: You’re in luck, I brought some home.
Me: Meet me in the kitchen?
Bianca wasn’t home when I got back from bingo. She’d gone out with Emily, and I’d nodded off in my bed with my copy of Yes, Chef splayed half across my face.
I was awoken by my phone buzzing in my pocket, not that I wanted to admit to Bianca that I’d been asleep. She’d probably try insisting that I don’t need to feed her.
Bullshit.
I live to feed her.
I hurry down the stairs, the imprint of my book still on my face, and put a large slice of apple pie in the oven to warm for her.
Luanne and I made three pies today, but I left two and a half at The Rotten Apple for the residents to enjoy.
Bianca comes into the kitchen wearing a silky black robe that immediately tears a swear from my lips. She looks sexy and a bit undone, with her hair loose and messy around her face, which is bare of any makeup.
“You are an absolute vision.”
She laughs and swats my arm as she leans down to peer into the oven.
“An impatient vision,” I add.
“I’m so hungry,” she moans, straightening. “I was helping Em with something for the store, and I lost track of time.”
“I’ll make you something else too. What will it be? An omelet? A grilled cheese?”
“You’re always feeding me,” she says, but it doesn’t sound like a complaint, and she rises on her toes to kiss the side of my mouth.
“Sit on the counter,” I say softly. “Sit next to me, and I’ll make you a sandwich. Please. You’ll be doing me a world of good.”
She offers me a smile that feeds my soul better than any amount of bread and cheese could, which is saying something, because bread and cheese are proof of the divine.
“You make it sound like I’m the one doing you the favor,” she says, stretching in a way that presses her breasts against the silk of her robe. I enjoy the view, feeling lucky in the knowledge that she’ll let me suck on them later.
“You most definitely are,” I say as I boost her onto the counter. “You know I like seeing you up here.” I lean close to her ear and whisper, “It reminds me of what it felt like to have your legs wrapped around my shoulders on this very counter.”
She tugs me toward her by the neck of my shirt. “You could refresh that memory.” She glances down the hallway. “We’d hear if one of them opened their door.”
True. I oiled most of the door hinges in the house, but I’ll be honest, I was a little self-serving in the work. I didn’t oil the hinges on the nonnas’ doors, and I happened to mention as much to Bianca.
Also, damn, she’s making this hard for me, in a whole lot of different ways.
“Yes, I would absolutely like to do that,” I say, my hands on her legs, soft beneath the silk of her robe. “But first I am going to make you a sandwich and tell you all about your fifth-grade teacher’s love life. I can’t let my girl go hungry.”
Her whole face lights up, and I feel lucky enough that I’m half tempted to yell out bingo! or jackpot! like a real jackass.
I squeeze her thighs, then head to the fridge to get the cheese and butter.
“He really has a love life?”
“He’s interested in Judy from The Rotten Apple,” I say as I start buttering the bread.
Bianca watches me with an expression of wonder. “How do you know more about the people in this town than I do?”
“I doubt that’s true, but people like to talk to me. They always have. But I have to say, poor O’Connor isn’t much good at talking to anyone. He said he had a question for her and then asked if she regularly serviced her car. The next thing I knew, I was offering to make them a picnic.”
She shakes her head slowly, still smiling at me as if I’m some puzzle she can’t work out. “You’re pretty wonderful, Mr. October. This town isn’t going to know what to do without you.”
“I wasn’t much of anything before I got crowned King of October.”
“You were,” she says flatly, as if she’ll accept no counterarguments on this one. “You listened to the wrong person is all.”
I start to tell her about seeing Whit and my plan to find out who’s on the judging panel for the bake-off, but she slides down from the counter.
“I thought we had an agreement,” I protest as I position the sandwich on the hot pan.
“I just changed the terms.”
I groan when she gets down on her knees in front of me. “I’m going to see if I can make you come before you finish making that sandwich.”
“Bianca. I don’t know if I can—”
She looks at me through her lashes as she reaches for the waistband of my favorite gray sweatpants and pulls them down. “I believe you can do anything you set your mind to, Giovanni.”
I was hard before, but something about the way she says it—like she means it, and also like a super fucking hot guidance counselor—makes me even harder. Then she wraps her hand around my ass and licks her way down my jutting dick like it’s a popsicle on a hot day.
I swear as I flip the sandwich, hoping it gets golden brown really quickly. I can already tell I’m not going to have much in the way of staying power tonight.
She sucks in the tip of my dick, swirling her tongue around it, and I can barely breathe, it feels so good.
More so because she’s kneeling before me while I’m making her dinner.
There’s something so deliciously domestic about it, as if I’m taking care of my wife, not the woman who said she’d only be mine for the month.
And that’s the thought in my head as she takes me further, sucking me down before pulling away and coming down for more.
I lower a hand to her hair, needing to touch her, to show her how much I worship her, and my hand forms a fist. I don’t want to hurt her—couldn’t bear to—so I make sure my grip is loose.
“God, you’re beautiful. Sei perfetta.”
She meets my gaze as she takes me deeper again, her tongue swirling around me, her hair in my grip, and I feel an almost painful longing for the woman who has my dick in her mouth.
Because remembering this won’t be enough for me.
I don’t want to lose her. The thought of losing her is impossibly painful.
I’m marveling at the intensity of my need when I remember I’m making her a sandwich, and I will not burn my girl’s sandwich. No fucking way.
I flip it, even as she runs her teeth lightly down the side of my dick, barely a whisper but enough to send sensation flooding through me, and when she sucks me down again, her hand flexing against my ass, I’m a goner.
“Bianca, I’m going to come,” I say softly, strained, not wanting the nonnas to storm in here. “You can stop.”
She shakes her head and tightens her grip on my ass, her mouth lifting slightly before lowering again, the suction even stronger, and I come down her throat.
She swallows, and the sight nearly makes me hard again as she pulls away and tugs my sweatpants up. There’s a satisfied smile on her face as she rises to her feet, like she knows how gone I am for her, and she likes it.
Good. I hope she loves it.
“Is my sandwich ready?” she asks.
“What’s a sandwich?” I ask, as I flip it onto the waiting plate.
Her smile stretches wider.
“Please, Bianca,” I say. “I’m begging you. For the love of God, after you finish, let’s take your apple pie upstairs so I can eat your pussy while you enjoy it. My life will be incomplete if you deny me.”
Her eyes sparkle as she says, “You know, I think I’m really going to miss you when you leave.”
The words cut into my chest, but I ignore the pain and cut the sandwich for her.
I lift it to her lips.
She rolls her eyes but takes a bite, humming under her breath as she chews. “God, that’s so good. How is that so good?”
“Because I made it,” I tease.
She laughs and takes another bite.
I’m tempted to tell her what I’ve been thinking about. How I want to form an impossible solution for us. But she’s tired from a long day, and I know it’s not the time.
She pokes a finger at me, and for a second I think she can read my mind, but I realize she’s pointing behind me at the stove.
“Now, you’d better get that out,” she says. “I’m suddenly very hungry for dessert.”