I pick the small booth in the back corner, away from the other customers. Adrenaline is rushing through my veins. I’m feeling really good about how this is going so far. Guess Jerome isn’t a complete dumbass after all.
“Nice shirt,” Val says, practically breathing fire as she sets my plate down in front of me with a little more force than necessary. Guess I had her too flustered to notice it when I first walked in.
“Too soon?” I ask, glancing down at the shirt in question, which says, “Once you put my meat in your mouth, you’re gonna wanna swallow.” It was a risk, I admit. I wasn’t sure how she’d take it.
“You have some balls, Peter.”
I waggle my brows suggestively. “I do, but you already knew that, baby girl.”
Valerie hangs her head, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, before turning and heading back toward the front of the store without another word.
“Hey, waitress,” I call out, loud enough that she’ll look rude to the other customers if she doesn’t respond.
“Yeah?”
“Play your cards right, and I’ll give you more than just the tip.”
“Why are you still here?” Val asks, slamming my bill down on the table in front of me. “We’re closed.”
“Ahhh.” I sigh, cupping the side of her face. “Alone at last.”
She pushes my hand away, backing up a few paces. “Cut the shit, Peter.”
“I’m waiting for my dessert,” I reply, scanning her body from head to toe, finally zeroing in on her tits. I zone out for a moment, picturing her trussed up, spread wide. “I bet you’re dripping wet. Just oozing sweetness,” I groan.
Her legs press together and her breathing changes. “Please stop,” she whimpers, on the verge of tears, or orgasm, possibly both. One of which I can handle, the other I don’t care to ever see again.
Deciding I’ve pushed enough for one night, I dig my card out of my wallet and hand it to her. “Can I just stick around until you close up? I hate leaving you here alone.”
“You have your own place to close.”
“Jerome’s got it covered. That fucker owes me,” I bite out with a little more venom than intended.
“In that case, follow me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, trailing behind like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.
“I’ll just be right over here,” I say, walking over to the stool at the edge of the counter.
“Oh no, fucker...You owe me,” she says, throwing my own words back in my face. “I’ve got some homework to take care of.”
“You sure you don’t want me to do the homework instead?” I taunt.
A wet rag flies across the room, smacking me in the chest. “Get to work.”
“WELCOME TO THE VEGAN Bagel Shop. What can I get for y—”
Valerie stops midsentence when she realizes that it’s only me. I’ve been here every day for either breakfast or dinner, depending on her schedule, for the past week and a half. Val pretends to be annoyed by me, but I can tell she’s secretly enjoying my visits.
“Good morning, pal.”
“I see you got the shirt,” she says with a shit-eating grin splitting her pretty face. When I arrived home yesterday, there was an Amazon box sitting at the door from an unknown sender. Inside was a bright green “I *heart* tofu” T-shirt. Of course, I knew right away who sent it. I’ve tried that nasty shit cooked a million different ways since starting my quest to earn Valerie’s forgiveness, and it’s disgusting. Val thinks she’s funny, but I’m funnier.
“I did...” I stare right at her as I lower the book in my hand that’s strategically covering the alteration I made to her gift. With a black Sharpie and the addition of two letters, it could just be my new favorite.
Val’s eyes narrow when she sees what I’ve done, but even she can’t help but laugh at the shirt that now reads, “I *heart* tofuCK.”
“True statement,” I add, giving her a wink.
“What am I going to do with you?” she asks, her voice low and seductive.
“You could start with forgiving me...then come over to my place tonight and we could do something I love.” Underlining the words on my chest with a finger, I give her another exaggerated wink and waggle my brows. “I have no doubt that you’ll love it just as much...if not more.”
Before Val can turn me down...again, Vanessa walks in, and I kid you not, she’s wearing the same fucking shirt as me, minus the enhancements, of course. So, hers is not half as cool as mine.
“Mr. Johnson, I thought I told you that I didn’t want you back in my shop.” Up ’til now, I’ve managed to avoid running into her, purposely timing my visits to be gone fifteen minutes before she arrives. Today, however, she’s early.
“Did you? I must’ve forgotten...Nice shirt.”
The compliment causes her to take notice of my own, and I swear her face turns ten shades of red. “You’re disgusting.”
“Sex is natural, Cruella...It’s a hell of a mood stabilizer too. You should give it a shot...Fuck out some of that aggression. Can’t be good for you.”
Vanessa gasps, her mouth falling open.
Val’s eyes bulge out of her head as she pulls her lips inward to keep from laughing. She moves a finger across her throat in a cut-it-out gesture, but I’ve never been one to quit while I’m ahead.
“How’s your protein? Have you had that checked recently? I have a friend. His standards aren’t all that high. I bet he’d be willing to take one for the good of humanity.”
Her face is damn near purple, her jaw ticking side to side. “Get the hell out of my shop before I have you thrown out,” she grits through clenched teeth.
I throw my hands up in surrender. “Was just on my way out. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
But before turning to leave, I reach my hand across the counter, cup the side of Val’s face, and plant my lips right on hers, and it thrills me to no end when she releases the faintest of moans. “You know where to find me, pretty girl.”
My girl: Thanks a lot, jerk.
She must be talking about the kiss. I bet Cruella just loved that. I snicker to myself as I type out a reply. God, I’m awesome.
Me: You’re welcome. It was good for me too.
My girl: Vanessa has been on my ass since you left. If you come over here again, she’s going to fire me. Please stay away.
This bitch is really starting to piss me the fuck off. Who the hell does she think she is anyway?
Me: So fucking let her. You can come work for me.
My girl: No offense, Pete. But, I can’t stomach being around all of those dead animals. Your shop makes me nauseous.
Me: I’ll stay away if you say you forgive me...
My girl: Fine. I forgive you.
Me: And you’ll come over to my place for dinner tonight...
My girl: Pete...
Me: I’m on my way.
My girl: NO! I’ll be there at 7. Happy now?
Me: Now tell me you wanna fuck me.
My girl: Pete!
Me: Save the screaming for later, baby, when you’re riding my bologna pony. Now say it, or I’m coming.
My girl: You wanna fuck me.
Me: God, you have no fucking clue how true that is. How much I ache to be inside of you again, pretty girl. To watch you come apart on my cock. To run my tongue over every inch of your body.
Fuck. Just typing that message has my dick throbbing. Adjusting myself, I hit send and stare at the screen, awaiting her response. Her previous replies came almost immediately, but a full ten minutes pass before it finally comes.
My girl: Me too...See you at 7.
What the hell was I thinking inviting her over for dinner? Feeding her vegetables just feels like a really shitty date. And since I had to open my big mouth and invite her over for dinner and a fuck...it’s definitely progressed from a booty call to a date.
Nothing says I’m into you like a big, juicy cut of steak. It’s dating 101. I’m seriously stumped. What
’s the veggie equivalent to filet?
“Jerome...what am I going to feed her?” I’m pacing our kitchen, alternating between staring into the fridge and the pantry, as if the contents will somehow change.
It’s six o’clock, and we just got home, leaving the new guy, Stan, to close up tonight. I’ve got to throw dinner together and shower within the hour. There’s no time for a grocery run.
“Dude, slap your dick on a bed of lettuce and call it a day. Veggies and a meat substitute. Voila!” He takes an exaggerated bow.
Is it sad that I consider it for a moment? It would be hilarious, but I can’t. Tonight has to be special. “I see where you’re going with this, but I really wanna impress her.”
Jerome nods. “Okay, then definitely do not put your little smokie on display. I forgot she’s already seen the black love torpedo. There ain’t nothin’ impressive about your shit anymore.” He’s bent over, laughing his ass off when I let him have it. A swift jab to the jaw.
“Aw, come on, man,” he says, still laughing as he rubs out the sting. “I’m just messin’ around. You have a pretty nice pecker for a white boy.” He takes off down the hall before calling out, “I’d hit it.”
Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “Stay in your room tonight and keep your fucking dick in your pants,” I warn.
“Best behavior,” he swears, crossing himself before disappearing into his room for the night. I hope.
I’m fastening the last button on my royal blue button down when the doorbell chimes. I cuff the sleeves then run my hands through my damp hair one more time, giving it that messy, just fucked look that Valerie seems to like so much. I’m halfway down the hall when the doorbell sounds again. “Coming!” I shout, grimacing as I pass the spread laid out on the kitchen table. It’ll have to do.
“Hey, pre—” I’m struck speechless at the sight of her. She’s in a little black dress to put all others to shame. Or maybe it’s just the figure beneath the fabric because there is nothing left to the imagination. It’s strapless, held up by the curve of her breasts alone, and skintight. Like a sausage casing, it hugs her form to perfection. And those heels. Dear God in heaven. They are what wet dreams are made of.
She giggles. “Hey, butcher. You gonna invite me in or what?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say, shaking my head as I move to the side and wave her in. “You look...” I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “You look amazing.”
As she walks past me into the living room, I get a glimpse of her ass in that dress and the music stops. Like a jack in the box, Johnson springs up, and I groan.
“You okay?” she asks, looking at me funny as I adjust myself, tucking my dick behind the band of my jeans.
“Mmmhmm,” I mutter. “I’m perfect.”
“Jeez, Pete. You act like you’ve never seen a girl in a dress before.” Val rolls her eyes, but I can tell that she’s flattered. Her cheeks have a rosy blush, and her lips are turned up in a shy smile.
“That’s not just any dress...and, baby, you are not just any girl.” I reach for her hand, pulling her body to mine. Her heart races against my chest as I reach around and trace my hands down her back, resting them on the curves of her ass.
“Is that so?”
Tucking the finger of one hand beneath her chin, I turn her face up to mine and cup the hair at the nape of her neck with the other, massaging her scalp gently. Val moans at the touch, rolling her shoulders and neck like a kitten.
“It is,” I whisper into her warm mouth before licking the seam of her lips.
Instinctively, she opens to me and her velvety tongue darts out, tangling with mine in a slow, sensual rhythm. Val fists her hands into my hair, tugging as she deepens the kiss. My head is swimming in a sea of lust, and I drown in her touch. Her taste. Her scent. Before I know it, I’ve got her on her back. Spread out on the brown leather couch. The top of her dress is pulled down. The nipple of her left breast pebbles as I suck it into my mouth, nipping gently.
Valerie rolls her hips, rubbing her pussy against the steel rod in my pants, desperate for the friction.
I wrap my hand around her thigh, gently squeezing the sensitive flesh as I climb my way up, and just as the tip of my finger skims between her wet folds, Val shoves me off of her, jumping up from the couch in a hurry.
Her hair is a tangled mess, her skin red and splotchy from the scruff on my face as she tucks her breasts back into her dress. “What’s for dinner?” she asks, breathing heavily as she pulls the bottom of her dress back down.
Is she serious?
“Uh?” I look around the room, still a little disoriented and hella confused as to how we just went from almost fucking to this. Jerome is nowhere in sight. There’s no smoke. No fire. No one holding a gun to her head.
Val runs her hands through her hair, trying to straighten it out. “You invited me over for dinner, Pete...remember? Please say you didn’t forget because I’m starving.”
Okay...I guess she’s serious. “Yes, ma’am. I sure did. But there is nothing wrong with starting the night out with a little dessert.” I wink, hoping she’ll take the bait.
“We can have dessert after. I’m famished.” Her smile is wicked. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Lead the way.” I dip my eyes toward the kitchen and trail a few steps behind her.
“Peter...” She’s trying so hard to hide her smile as she takes in my poor attempt at dinner. “Are those SpaghettiOs?” She bites her lips, looking over to me for confirmation.
Clearing my throat, I puff up my chest and decide to own this shit. “They are,” I answer with a confident smile. “And over here we have baby carrots with ranch dressing. I wasn’t sure whether that was vegan or not, so I mixed up some vinegar and water with salt and pepper as an alternative.”
She nods, her grip on those trembling lips becoming weaker by the second.
“We also have Ramen in case you are not a fan of tomato sauce. Crinkle cut French fries.” I look up at her and wink. “Only the best for my girl.”
“Of course.” She puts her hand over her mouth, covering a grin.
“For dessert, we have this fancy movie theater butter popcorn, a bowl of Starbursts, and Sour Patch Kids.”
Her eyes are watering from trying so hard not to laugh.
“How’d I do?” I ask, rocking back and forth on my heels.
And then it comes. A loud snort followed by deep belly laughs. “I can’t...” she spits out between guffaws as she pulls out a chair. “I have to sit down.”
It’s so hard to restrain my laughter as I wait for her to calm down and respond, but as I said before, I’m owning this shit.
“Woo,” she says, fanning herself. “You got me, butcher. Now, where’s our real dinner?”
I take a seat in the chair across from Val and grab her plate from in front of her. “What’s it gonna be, babe? SpaghettiOs or Ramen?”
Her eyes jump around the room, searching for...I don’t know what. Ashton Kutcher to jump out and yell “Punked!” maybe? “Oh, you’re serious.”
“I’m partial to the SphaghettiOs myself. That Chef Boyardee knows his shit.”
She nods. “So fancy, a world-renowned chef. I’m impressed.”
“I aim to please.”
“I’ll have the SpaghettiOs with a side of fries...lots of ketchup, please. I’m not a big fan of carrots but thank you. Pink and red Starbursts and red and blue Sour Patch Kids for dessert.”
After serving her plate, I fill my own, and we get to know each other a little better over our barely edible dinner. I could never do this vegan shit. It’s no wonder she’s so tiny.
I learn that Val’s dad left when she was just six years old. Her mother has raised her on her own, paying the bills by stripping at a club a few towns over four nights a week. She tells me this with absolutely no embarrassment and it makes me fall for her just a little more.
Our upbringings couldn’t have been more different. My parents are still very much in love, and as a ch
ild—hell...even now at twenty-two—I’ve never wanted for anything.
“That was...an interesting dinner, Mr. Johnson. Thank you,” she says, carrying our half-eaten plates over to the sink.
“Second dessert will make up for it, I swear.” Wrapping my arms around her waist, I bury my face in the crook of Valerie’s neck, feathering kisses up and back down as she rinses the dishes. I watch as goose bumps form on her skin. Listen to the sound of her breaths quickening. Her responsiveness to my touch turns me on. I feel hot all over.
Spinning around in my arms to face me, she pats her flat stomach. “I’m so full. I couldn’t eat another bite.” She cocks her brow, letting me know she’s just being a tease.
I play along. “That’s quite all right, pal, because I’m the one who’ll be doing all the eating.”
“Oh,” she says, fluttering her lashes. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Your pussy,” I answer, looking her straight in the eyes, never one to beat around the bush.
“Well, by all means,” she says, hopping up onto the counter behind her. “Dig in.” She uncrosses her ankles and leans back, bracing her weight on her hands with her legs slightly parted.
My cock pulses, growing uncomfortably tight in my jeans as I drink in the sight of Valerie Cooter offering herself up to me so brazenly. My tongue salivates, filling my mouth at the anticipation of tasting her sweet peach.
I take two slow steps forward, my eyes staring deep into hers until her knees are brushing the front of my shirt. I wrap my fingers loosely around her delicate ankles, trailing them up the sides of her calves slowly. Her body trembles. She hisses out a sharp breath when I grab ahold of her knees and wrench her legs apart, flipping her to her back.
Valerie squeals with surprise as she falls backward, her head dangling off the other end of the counter. Gripping her thighs, I let out a growl, pulling her toward me ’til her ass rests right at the edge of the granite. ’Til I can see her pretty pink pussy glistening with arousal. A feeling of possessiveness comes over me. This is mine.
Food Fight - Final Page 11
