His eyes warmed noticeably. “What did you have in mind?”
“You’ll see,” was all I’d say.
Instructing Fankie to finish cleaning up, I untied my apron and tossed it on the hook by the door. Stepping outside the almost claustrophobic confines of the booth, I took a deep, cleansing breath and crooked a finger at Chris, assuming curiosity would propel him to follow.
I managed to wade through the sea of peach-happy humanity while occasionally checking over my shoulder to be sure Chris was behind me. He was. Finally, I reached the corner of Main and Vine and slowed down enough to allow him to catch up. With an extra swing to my hips that made my skirt swish against my knees, I kept moving, but at a slower pace. The heat of the late-afternoon sun quickly soaked into my scalp as the heat of anticipation built between my thighs. I was already walking a fine line with the townspeople. If I got caught…I’d just have to make sure I didn’t.
“Where the hell are you taking me, Fiona?” he demanded, grabbing my hand.
“You’ll see.” With a sly smile, I nudged him into an alley. A few more steps brought us to the drugstore’s recessed delivery area. We had a shaded concrete pad covered from the heat of the sun and safety from the prying eyes of anyone who might wander past the alley’s entrance. Prying ears, however, could be a whole other matter, if I wasn’t careful.
“Do you like me as much as you like my cobbler, Chris?”
I spun around and gave him my most seductive smile. My panties were already damp and my insides quaked the tiniest bit at having him within my reach. My nipples were so hard they hurt but I refused to give into the urge and pinch them like I wanted to. Not yet anyway.
He chuckled and stepped closer as if he was finally aware of what I had in mind—of what I wanted.
I took the bowl of fruit he still carried and set it on a chair someone had left outside, then hooked a finger in the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. “Do you?” I whispered.
“Do I what?”
“Like me as much as my cobbler.” The backs of my fingers traveled lightly up his neck and across his stubble-kissed jaw.
“Definitely.”
I sighed in pleasure as he leaned down and caught one finger in his mouth. His teeth exerted just enough pressure to not be ignored while his tongue gently laved at the pad of my finger. He moved closer, close enough so that his denim-clad thighs were pressed against mine and the brick wall bit into the tender flesh of my bottom through the thin material of my skirt. He was hot and hard and the slightest bit rough as he ground against my mound and continued making love to my finger.
Aching to relieve the ever-increasing pressure, I pushed my hips toward him, then shivered and gasped in pleasure as rough denim made contact with my pussy lips.
Finally, he released my finger and pressed his lips to my neck. “Now what exactly do I have to do to get some of that peach cobbler of yours?”
His callused hands were under my skirt, traveling up my thighs, squeezing the cheeks of my ass, probing, spreading them wide and delving lower to tender lips filled with nerves, flushed and swollen and already hungry, and I realized I’d just lost control of him and this.
I pushed him away with
a flirty “behave,” and forced air into my lungs. I’d never given my recipe out. Ever. To anyone. I couldn’t believe I’d consider it now, but Chris was worth it and by the time I was through with him, I doubt if he’d remember how to make it anyway. “You have to be a good boy and do what I say, and in exchange, I will give you some…cobbler.”
“I’m not very good at taking orders. I’m more used to giving them.”
“But this is a vacation—no need for giving orders when you’re on vacation, right, querido?”
With a smile, I hooked my thumb in the waistband of my skirt, pushing it and my skimpy bikini panties off my hips to reveal his prize—if he was good. His eyes immediately dropped to my neatly trimmed snatch, and a hungry smile spread across his face.
I had a feeling he was going to be very, very good.
I leaned against the brick wall, briefly covering my swollen pussy, shielding it from those liquid green eyes, despite the provocative outward thrust of my hips. Then I gave him a playful smile as my hands ever so slowly skimmed across my belly and under my shirt, pushing it over my breasts so I could unhook my bra. “Well?”
He nodded, never taking his eyes off the set of C-cups I held in my hand.
“You like to watch?”
He nodded again and swallowed hard three times as I pinched the cinnamon-colored tips, then rolled them between my fingers.
“That’s good, ’cause I like it when you watch. Do you like peaches and cream?” My words caught his attention, and his tanned brows puckered in a frown. “Get a piece of peach, lover.” I nodded toward the bowl he’d bought and released my nipples.
With an indulgent smile, he followed my instructions, finally aware of what I wanted. I reached down and pulled the lips of my sex apart, then gasped as the cool juicy treat made contact, sliding between the hot, slippery folds. I couldn’t help myself. I spread my lips wider and arched my hips upward.
“Like that?” Chris asked, moving closer.