by Frankie Love
"You still can," I say. "No pressure. But I think you'll always be wondering about that guy who drank hot cocoa with you at the coffee shop. The guy who got away."
I smile. “Maybe you're right," I say, “and I think that right now, that's not a risk I'm willing to take."
Chapter Three
Mills
I can tell by the way she bites her bottom lip, she truly isn't a risk taker. But as she gathers her bag, filling it with her books and computer, I like her ability to take a chance on me. It tells me she's not as closed off as she might say. And it has me wondering why.
"So have you lived here long?" I ask her.
She shakes her head. "No, I just got hired at this university so I'm new to town."
"And what do you think of it?”
She smiles, putting her messenger bag on her shoulder. "I like it," she says as we walk toward the door, "but I am a little lonely. It's weird moving to a new place. I spent so many years in college with other students. Now I am on my own, a real grownup, and I'm realizing it's a little lonely. The other night, I found myself on a rescue shelter site, contemplating a cat or a dog, just someone to keep me company."
"I'm a dog owner myself," I tell her. "I have a little terrier named Brussels."
“After the city or the vegetable?"
I smile. “The vegetable. When I brought him home and he somehow managed to eat a whole plate full of them, it was destiny."
"That's adorable. While I am a fan of Brussels sprouts," she raises a finger, "I admit that I have more of a sweet tooth.”
“I could tell by the whipped cream.”
She grins. “Extra whipped cream. And from what I can tell, you have a bit of a sweet tooth yourself."
Outside, the air hits us hard. It's windier than I was expecting. "The owner of the gym where I’ve been working suggested going down the boardwalk, that there's some food trucks, but it seems a little cold. What do you think?"
"I'm up for it if you are,” she says. "I know where he's referring. They have a covered awning with outside heaters. I think we'll be okay."
"Perfect." I want to reach for her hand. And so I do.
Her eyes widen, surprised. "Okay,” she says slowly, looking at our hands.
“Is this too forward?" I ask. “Because when I like something, I go all in.”
"It's forward. But surprisingly, I don't mind," she says. "In fact, I really like it. Are you trying to win me over to prove my book wrong?"
"No, that has nothing to do with it," I say, “but how do you know I’m not the cream of the crop?”
“I suppose I don’t,” she says, “…and I guess I need to find out.”
Mallory
As we near the food truck square, he asks me about my career, if I love it after going to school for so long.
I decide that I need to open up if I want to learn who this man is. “It’s strange, I spent my whole life working on my career and now that I have it, I'm a little disappointed."
"Really?" he says.
"I know, right? It's not that I don't like what I do. I do. I find it fascinating and interesting. But I find myself looking around a classroom and there are all these hormones raging and the undergrads are in relationships. And PDA is a real thing these days."
"How old are you?" he asks me.
"I'm 27, but I feel like I'm going on 37 or 47.” I sigh. "What about you?"
"I'm 44," he tells me. “Too much of an age gap for your book?”
“Not particularly.” I shrug. “And since you're a risk taker, it wouldn't bother you, would it?”
"I've never been married, never had children."
"And do you want those things?”
"Oh wow," he says, "I guess we are cutting right to the chase."
I nod. "Sorry. It's a habit. I’m trying to analyze the data, analyze you."
"I'm not sure how I feel about being referred to as data, but…" He grins. "I want to be married. I want kids. Hey, I have no problem being the old dad."
"Okay." I say, laughing, "I'd like kids too, but it’s not a deal breaker, not having them.” As we round the corner, I point to the right. “It's right here. What sounds good?"
"Wow, there's tons of options and you can't go wrong. Not with any of them."
Then at the same time, we say, “Falafel.” And then we laugh. Maybe we are more alike than I thought.
We head to that vendor and Mills places an order, and I place mine right after him, though we order the same thing. He pays and we make our way to a table once our food's in hand.
"This is delicious," I say, taking a bite. The creamy tzatziki sauce is mixed with the crisp lettuce and cucumbers and the warm falafel wrapped in pita.
"It is," he says. "For a small town, I admit, you do have a good offering of food."
"Oh, we have tons of good places here, pizza and pho. There's an incredible bakery and a farm produce market."
"That's surprising. But that's what my cousin Trent has been saying for the last year. Oh, actually you might know him," Mills adds. "He works at the university too."
"Trent who goes with Trista?” Mills nods and I keep talking. “They seem very happy. Every time I've seen them, I can't help smiling. You can tell they found their forever kind of love."
"Is that what you're looking for?" Mills asks me.
Our eyes meet and my throat goes dry. I met this man an hour ago, and somehow we've cut to the heart of everything, everything that matters.
"I do," I tell him, "I do want that."
"Me too," he admits.
We go back to eating and finishing up our food. After, he takes our trays and carries them to the garbage. As I adjust the messenger bag on my shoulder and the scarf around my neck, I can’t help but wonder, what happens next? It feels too good to be true.
What would Cream of the Crop say I need to decipher when it comes to this stranger?
Before I can consider it any more though, someone bumps into me, hard.
"Oh, I'm so sorry,” the woman says, but it's too late. My whole dress is covered in her milkshake.
"It's okay," I say, "I can clean it up."
Cringing, she walks away apologizing. Mills has seen it all happen and grabs a roll of paper towels.
"Let me help,” he says.
I laugh. "I'm a mess covered in ice cream."
"It's a shame it's not whipped cream," he says, his eyes bright.
I lick my lips. "Agreed."
He chuckles. "I don't want to be too forward, but I don't want this night to end. I leave town soon, and I wouldn't mind getting a drink somewhere with you. I was going to invite you back to my hotel bar but now you’re covered in milkshake.”
"You could come back to my place and I could change,” I say. "I don't have any hot cocoa on hand, but I do have some chocolate sauce."
Chapter Four
Mills
When we get to Mallory's house, which is only a short walk away, I'm not surprised to see the pumpkins out front and the yellow bouquet of sun flowers on her kitchen table. She looks like the kind of person who takes care of herself and the place where she lives. It draws me to her, makes me want to know everything about her.
"What?" she asks, turning to me as I take in her place.
I smile, looking over the fireplace mantel at a photograph of her at the beach, white sand on her toes and a bright smile on her face. "I was just trying to learn more about you by the way you decorate."
She smiles, setting down her heavy bag and jacket. "What have you learned, Mr. Mills?"
She walks toward me and I take another risk by wrapping my arms around her waist, drawing her close, close enough to be kissed.
"I'm thinking that your home looks cozy."
"Cozy comfortable or cozy cute?" she asks with a smile that endears me to her.
I lift her chin with one hand. Milkshake is getting all over my shirt, but I don’t care. “Comfortable and cute,” I tell her and that makes her smile, a soft, serene smile. Her eyes clo
se and my lips find hers for the first time.
I kiss her softly. Soft and deep. The kind of kiss that I know she needs, that she longs for. This data collecting, risk-averse woman in my arms is scared of falling in love. But I make a promise as I kiss her, a promise to myself, a promise I'd say out loud if I didn’t think it would scare her away.
I promise to take care of her in any way she'll let me, for tonight, maybe forever. When our lips part and her tongue sides against mine, my cock aches with desire for her and her alone. God, she's gorgeous.
She swallows, looking up into my eyes and pulling away ever so slightly. She rests a hand on my chest and I like the weight of it against me. I want all of her against me. "What?" she asks.
I lift my eyebrows, not wanting to shy away from the truth, from her. I have a feeling that if I want to get somewhere with this woman, I need to be utterly honest, completely vulnerable, wear my heart on my sleeve. "I was just thinking how this moment feels so right."
"It does, doesn't it?" she says softly. She flutters her eyelashes closed.
"I want to kiss you again,” I tell her.
She nods. "I want that too. And more."
"You're sure?" I ask, and she nods.
"But first, I need to get out of these clothes. This milkshake situation isn't exactly sexy."
I chuckle. "You have no idea how sexy you are."
"You mean that, Mills?” she asks as she turns and walks away, down the hallway to what I'm guessing is a bedroom.
"Oh, I mean it," I tell her firmly.
She looks over her shoulder. "In that case," she says, "why don't you come help me get out of these clothes?"
Mallory
For some reason, inviting Mills into my bedroom doesn't seem like a risk at all — it feels right. It feels needed, necessary. Like this moment is the one I've been craving, waiting for.
Screw grading the term papers. Right now, I just want to be lost in something other than words, something other than one sentence following the next. I want to get lost in him, in his body, in his eyes. Because when he kissed me, it woke something up inside of me that has been sleeping far too long.
He joins me in the room and I'm not nervous. I feel happy, light.
I lick my lips, facing him. "I'm happy you came home. Home with me, I mean."
"I'm happy I did too,” he says, "and that you invited me. Now about these clothes," he adds, stepping closer, reaching behind me and finding the zipper high on my neck.
He tugs it down slowly. Excruciatingly slowly. And I find myself smiling as he does, the sensation of his hand on my spine, my skin — it's intoxicating. And when he's finished unzipping me, I step out of my dress, letting it fall to the floor. I take off my boots. The scarf is gone. I'm standing before this man, who's still fully dressed, in nothing but my bra and panties, taking this from zero to a hundred so damn fast I'm dizzy, but also delighted. "It's not fair if I'm the only one in my underwear," I tell him, and he smiles, agreeing.
He tugs off his tee shirt and his sweats. He'd just come from the gym before we met, but I want to give him another workout. I think he knows what's on my mind because as I look down and take him in, his cock is hard and thick, stretching against the cotton of his boxers. I swallow with longing.
"What aren't you saying?" he asks, stepping closer and running a hand over my back, squeezing my ass, pulling my hips close to his.
“I was thinking how your package looks substantial."
He chuckles. "Is that your way of saying you like cock?"
My cheeks turn bright red. I know they do. And I laugh hard, the mood shifting into something less intense and more incredible than I could have imagined. "I suppose I am. I mean, if that's what we're working with," I say, wanting to reach down and touch him.
He shrugs. "It's yours for the taking, Mallory."
"You mean that?" I ask, running my hand up and down his thickness. His cock is firm, solid, and so long.
My pussy is hot as I stroke him over the fabric, wanting to reach under it, touch him, the velvety smooth skin rigid as the heat grows between us.
He follows suit by running his hands over my panties. And we silently move to the bed, touching one another, exploring. On our sides, we caress one another's skin, and I unhook my bra, offering him all of me. And he shimmies down my panties, taking me in, my curves and all. I know he likes what he sees because as he takes off his boxers, it's like his cock doubles in size, which is practically impossible, except I'm the one seeing it. And you'd have to see it to believe it.
"God, you're gorgeous," he says. His fingertips tease my nipples and he draws his mouth to my breast. Sucking it slowly, his tongue circling me, his fingers circle me too.
I moan in pleasure as he begins to open me up. And my hand continues to stroke him up and down, nice and slow. I'm wet for him and he knows it. I touch myself so my fingers are coated in my juice, and I use that to stroke him harder, with more urgency, eager to feel him inside of me, up and down me.
I moan, closing my eyes as he touches me. My legs open for him, and his fingers stroke my pussy, nice and slow. "I want to taste you," he says, his hot breath in my ear. And I nod, wanting it too, wanting all of it. "You're so creamy," he groans.
"We both know you like whipped cream.”
"Your cream is so much better," he says, "but I really need to taste all of you to be sure.”
On my back, he kneels before me, spreading my legs and dipping his mouth to my core, licking me up and down. "That's the sweetest cream I've tasted in my whole damn life,” he says, and I cover my face with my hands, laughing in pleasure.
Maybe falling for someone isn't about taking risks at all, because right now, all it feels like is a reward.
Chapter Five
Mills
I am not exaggerating in the least — Mallory is so damn beautiful. And with her on her back, in her bedroom, it feels like I've known this woman forever. How is it possible? We just met a brief time ago. But if love at first sight is real, then I know, without a doubt, I've just experienced it.
I can't get enough of her. And I lick her pussy up and down, nice and good. She loves it. I can tell by the way she squirms and laughs. I tickle her with my tongue, making her wet and juicy, and she comes hard against my mouth. Her clit is a hot circle of desire. And when I tease it, she comes undone.
"Oh my God," she moans, clenching the sheets as she writhes on the bed. "Don't stop," she begs.
And I don't. I continue to suck and lick her properly, the way she's begging me for, and as I taste her, there is no doubt that this is right — the two of us together. Screw the risks that might be involved. When it comes to falling in love with Mallory Jones, I'm all in.
When she finishes coming, I move closer to her on the bed, needing her to understand that this is not a one-night thing, that I'm not a one-night stand kind of man. And I have a feeling that a girl like Mallory Jones is not either. I intend to keep it that way.
"What?" she asks, batting her eyelashes at me in a dreamy state of desire. She's satiated and satisfied, practically purring like a kitten.
“That was everything I could have imagined,” I tell her.
She smiles. “Usually it's the girl saying that, not the guy.”
“I don't know who those guys are, but they haven't tasted you.” I cup her pussy with my hand. “Because baby, that was fucking unreal.”
She swallows. "You mean that?"
I nod. I'll give her any of the affirmations she needs because it's all the truth. She is incredible and sexy and funny, beautiful and bright, scared but sweet. And I want to hold her heart in my hand. I don't want to let it go. I'm terrified at the thought of it ever breaking. It won’t happen on my watch.
"I want to make love to you," I tell her.
"Love?" she says. "With a woman you just met?"
I nod. "Yes, with a woman I just met. A woman I feel like I've known forever."
"You say that to all the girls?" she asks.
I
shake my head. "There haven't been ‘all the girls.’ You know how you were telling me that moving here all alone has you lonely?" She nods. "Well, having a life on the road, traveling all the time, made me lonely too. That's why I thought I'd come back to the States and settle down. But Seattle is a big city and everyone's too busy looking at their phones, the screens in their hands, that they don't look at one another.” I run a hand over her soft curves. “Or maybe I didn't find anybody because I was waiting until I came here and I found you."
She shakes her head. "Stop," she says softly. "Don't."
"Don't what?" I say, moving on top of her, my cock thick and hard between her legs. She knows she wants it. She drops her knees open. And I begin to enter her.
"I know you're scared of risks," I say, "but no pain, no gain."
"This isn't painful," she says, kissing me. "This is perfect."
"Couldn't agree more," I say, kissing her harder, more intensely. And I run my hand through her hair, my other hand on her ass. She begins to guide me home, my cock filling her up nice and slow.
"Is this what you wanted?" I ask her and she pants in pleasure.
“It’s more than I wanted. It feels so good, Mills.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” I tell her, kissing her again.
“Good, because, Mills,” she says smiling wide, “you're the whipped cream to my cocoa."
Mallory
I laugh, unable to believe I just said that, but I did. And he does seem like the right match for me. Not the same as me and not exactly the opposite, but a complement, which is probably ridiculous to think.
I just met him. But as he begins to fill me up, it doesn't feel so insane.
It feels right. It feels good.
It feels, Oh God, I'm… The pleasure is overwhelming as he begins to move inside of me, nice and slow, but also deep and hard, penetrating me to my very core. I wrap my arms around him, moaning in delight as he fills me up more than I could have imagined.
