The Ice Cream Shop Boy #2 (Erotic Romance)

by Mimi Strong

  I ran my fingers up over his bare chest and across his chin, now stubbly with a day's growth. I wrapped my arms around him and stroked the muscles of his back and his shoulder blades.

  He kissed me for a moment, then pulled away, leaving me wanting more.

  “One more flavor,” he said.

  For this one, he popped open the lid and fed me the taste with his own spoon.

  My eyes widened as the rich ice cream melted and came alive in my mouth. It was sweet, but with a tangy, salty undertone.

  He curled up another spoonful and I eagerly accepted, moaning with pleasure at the taste. The salt and sweetness together reminded me of the night before, when I'd licked the sweetened powder off his body.

  His voice husky and deep, he said, “This flavor reminds me of your nipples.” He reached his hands under my shirt and unfastened my bra, then cupped my breasts, gently squeezing my nipples at the same time.

  I whispered, “You should call it that.”

  “Mm,” he moaned in my ear. “Laura's Nipples. It'll be our bestseller.”

  With my arms wrapped around his neck, I kissed his earlobe and down his neck, smelling his hair.

  He squeezed me closer to him, his hands traveling down to scoop under my buttocks. The bulge in his jeans was more insistent, straining to be released.

  I whispered, “Should we go to the bedroom?”

  “No need,” he said, and he unfastened my shorts. They fell to the floor, and my panties were next.

  Zach lifted me up and set me on the kitchen island, then lifted my shirt off and pulled away my bra.

  I crossed my arms over my breasts and looked around. The kitchen was fairly private, with blinds on the window, but I still felt exposed.

  Zach pulled my arms down and lapped at one of my breasts. The tingling sensation prickled all through my pussy and throbbed through my entire body, and I forgot all about blinds and windows and things you shouldn't do in the kitchen.

  He knelt down, pulled me forward on the counter top, and buried his face between my legs. His tongue felt so good, just incredible. He eased back and said, “New name for the ice cream: Laura's Pussy. Because that's even better.”

  He dove back in, licking up a frenzy and sending a lightning storm of epic proportions through my pussy. Nudging one finger into my opening as he licked, he said, “Is this okay?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  As he licked me and fingered me at the same time, my legs tensed and then relaxed. My naked back and chest prickled with sweat, like a fever. His licking brought me up, to the zenith, and I came, naked and panting, seated on my kitchen island amidst melting pints of ice cream.

  As the shudders were softening, only then did I notice the slightly poking sensation of his beard stubble on my pussy. It reminded me of his presence, of his Zach-ness, and made everything better.

  He took a deep sigh and stood up. He wiped the moisture off his mouth on his bare shoulder, then picked up the melting pint of ice cream—the last one we'd tasted.

  “Comparison tasting,” he said. He kissed me deeply, letting the faint scent of my own musk into my nostrils, then fed us each a scoop of the ice cream.

  “A pale imitation,” he said with a wink.

  I grabbed the spoon and took another scoop. “What's this flavor all about, really?”

  “It's a smoky, salted caramel with a hint of bacon.”

  “Tastes like heaven,” I said.

  He glanced up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I'll add that name to the list.”

  As he moved in for another kiss, he squeezed my breasts, sending fresh tingles through my body. Just like that, I wanted him all over again. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him close. I stroked his bulge through his pants, then unfastened his jeans to free his cock to stand upright.

  He'd bought more condoms on his trip out that morning, so we wasted no time slipping one on. The counter was the perfect height for sex, as though it had been fashioned for exactly such a thing, and he slid into me as he nudged his tongue into my mouth.

  My pussy, post-orgasm, was wet and sensitive. I felt every beautiful stroke as he pulsed in and out of me, varying the speed.

  My hands moved over his hot flesh until they found the best spot, clutching his round, muscular butt cheeks as he pumped into me. When I squeezed with my hands, his cock grew larger and firmer, and he plunged more desperately into me.

  As his excitement grew, mine did as well. When he came, I was still shaking inside, even after we stopped moving. Both of us pulsed together as one.

  This is how sex should be, I thought.

  “That was great,” he whispered in my ear.

  After we pulled apart, he disappeared to the bathroom to tidy up. I jumped off the counter and pulled my clothes on. I used some lilac-scented cleaner spray and spritzed the area where I'd been sitting, naked.

  When Zach came out of the bathroom and saw me doing this, he laughed so hard.

  I said, “Sex in the kitchen is fine, as long as we clean up.”

  He raised his dark eyebrows and pulled me in for a hug. His voice low and rumbling in his chest, he said, “Oh, really? Is that the only rule you're putting on me? How about sex in the shower?”

  “Maybe after breakfast,” I said.

  He clicked on one of the gas elements and moved the cast iron pan over.

  He asked me, “How do you like your eggs?”

  I poured a mug of coffee, using the new pink mug we'd bought that day. “Scrambled. Lots of ketchup.”

  “Me too.”

  It was just a tiny thing, both of us liking our eggs the same way, but it seemed like a sign of good things to come.

  Zach handed me a plate of fresh fruit, and after I ate that, we sat on the little stools at the kitchen island and had scrambled eggs, with ketchup, and toast with peanut butter. After the sex and the food, I felt both invigorated and relaxed, like I could do anything, or take a nap, and I'd be happy.

  Zach took the last piece of bacon, as per my offer, and said, “I know some great breakfast places in New York, near my apartment.”

  “What apartment?”

  “The one where I live.”

  My insides chilled, like I'd just swallowed too much cold water. Slowly, I said, “So, you don't actually live here, in Columbus?”

  His face grew pale, his expression troubled. “I'm just here temporarily, at a short-term furnished rental down the street. I did tell you that, did I not?”

  “I don't know.” I stared down into my coffee, trying not to cry. We'd talked a lot over the last two weeks of shared dog walks, and on our big day together yesterday. He'd told me about growing up an only child with immigrant parents, about their lives changing when he was a teenager and his father's business deals started going well. He'd switched to private school, and after graduating went to another prestigious school, taking pre-law, but he'd dropped out after two years and gone to work for his father. He'd lived in Colorado for a bit, but mostly New York, where he'd gone to school.

  Yes, he'd definitely mentioned New York, but I hadn't realized it was still his home.

  “Laura?”

  I sipped the coffee, which was flavorless, because of the sadness that filled my mouth.

  Two months. Three disasters. I was the girl who'd been pumped and dumped three times in the span of less than two months.

  Now my mouth was watering, and salty.

  I dropped the mug on the counter and ran to the bathroom. I made it to the toilet and did not throw up on myself. I heard Zach following me down the hallway, so I kicked the door shut behind me. He knocked, but wouldn't come in, because that was a boundary he respected. My heart was another story.

  After I'd purged the contents of my stomach and then some, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and came out.

  Zach was sitting on the couch between the dogs, looking like a boy waiting to see the principal.

  “Sorry about that,” I said, keeping my tone light.

  He stammered fo
r a moment, then said, “Please tell me it was something you ate and not something I did.”

  I grabbed my coffee from the kitchen island—still warm enough—and curled up on the wing-back chair. I'd carefully rehearsed what I was going to say, so I said it: “My heart is bruised, and this is why people need to take time after a big breakup before they start dating again. I really like you, Zach, but all of this is too much for me. We need to go back to just being friends.”

  His Adam's apple bobbed, and he reached beside him to pull a sleepy-eyed Duke closer to his lap.

  “Okay,” he said, his mouth sounding dry, his voice crackling.

  “So how long are you here for?” I took a sip and tried to appear casual.

  “Hard to say. I could leave any time, as my work's done, but ...” He looked out the window for a moment. “I like it here. Columbus is nice.”

  “Yes, it is certainly nice. But it's not New York, is it?”

  “The people here are so direct. They don't put up with bullshit, and they just say what they feel, don't they?”

  “We don't suffer fools,” I said, repeating the phrase oft-used by my parents. I grew up in Ohio, in a smaller town that made Columbus seem like a big city by comparison. My parents were still happily married, living a few hours away, with my younger brother and sister. My sister, just sixteen, was the one who'd always talked about moving to New York one day. She'd been a junior bridesmaid at my wedding-that-wasn't, so slender and beautiful in her iris-blue bridesmaid dress. I hadn't seen my family since that weekend, and I found myself aching for them. I needed to drive home for a visit. Maybe the next weekend.

  Zach cleared his throat, and I realized he was still there. Why? Why hadn't he run off and dumped me like everyone else?

  “I've got things I should get to today,” I said.

  “Laura, I'm really sorry. I thought you knew.” He looked down at Princess and pulled her closer on the other side of his lap. “I've really enjoyed the walks with you guys these last few weeks. I've enjoyed getting to know you.”

  He was still looking at Princess, which made it a little easier.

  “Thanks for breakfast.” I stood up and faced the door.

  Zach took the hint and got up. “Come on, old boy,” he said, but Duke didn't want to move from the couch. He was still wearing the bright yellow bandana that matched the sports car, and he sleepily looked from Zach to me again, as if to say, Do I really have to leave?

  He had to go, though. As did Zach. I needed my space to breathe, to think, and to cry.

  “Even just friends might be too much,” I said, trying to stay in control.

  “So this is it?” He didn't look happy.

  “Do you have all your things?”

  He put the leash on Duke and ushered him to the door. “I don't want this to be over before it even got started,” he said.

  “It's a little too late now,” I said. Then, putting a calm smile on my face, I said, “Please, just go. It's for the best. I have friends. I'll call Renee, and I'm going to be fine.” I held my hands over my heart. “I need to be by myself for a while, without a relationship.”

  He looked down at the floor.

  “I'll pay you back for the painting,” I said.

  “I don't care about that,” he said. “I just don't know if I can live with myself if I know I've hurt you. I want to make it right.”

  “I'm fine,” I said, my voice barely shaking at all. “This was fun. Casual and fun. Let's finish it now and we'll both have a lovely memory of a beautiful night together.”

  He opened his mouth to talk, but no sound came out.

  After a terrible pause, where I fought the urge to run to him and cling to him, he turned and he left, closing the door softly behind him.

  After I was sure he was gone, I collapsed on the sofa, buried my face in Princess, and sobbed.

  4: And Then Things Got Weird

  The night after I broke up with Zach (or whatever you'd call it), I had no appetite, but I ate the leftover ice cream anyway. The salted caramel disgusted me, so I washed it down the sink.

  Monday morning, my eyes were so puffy and sore, I considered calling in sick, but went anyway, Princess at my side.

  “Our love is forever,” I told her as we drove.

  As soon as I walked into the building, I knew something was up. Nobody was working in the design area, and when I got up to the lofted office, Delphinia's expression was grim.

  She called me over to her desk, which was suspiciously clean and tidy.

  “Sorry I'm late,” I said, hoping my still-puffy eyes would be enough evidence that my two hours of lateness weren't for a trivial matter.

  In a hushed voice, she said, “We've been sold.”

  “We? You mean the company?”

  Delphinia's usually-polished appearance was showing cracks, including red lipstick on her teeth. She wore her hair in cornrows, tied with a scarf, and some of the braids were loose. She fiddled with the strands, twisting them between her elegant, long-nailed fingers.

  She continued, “I should say the company's been sold, and we're all out on the street.”

  So the rumors were true. The owner had sold to a larger label after all. People had been floating the idea for months, and I hadn't wanted to believe it, but now I had no choice.

  I didn't even take the seat Delphinia offered. After what I'd been through, the news simply washed over me and sunk in. So that was it. I would be out of a job, dumped and left in the cold. What else was new?

  Putting on a perky smile, I said, “Guess I should work on my resume today.”

  Delphinia glanced over at her garbage pail, frowning.

  “I'm not going to throw up,” I said. “Things change. Jobs come and go, especially in this economy. We'll be fine. You'll get a job in no time. It might take me a little longer, but I have some savings.”

  She shook her head and pursed her lips. “You're too good to me, Laura. Look at you, still my assistant, helping me with your sunshine. How did you get to be so sweet?”

  “We grow strong and sweet here, just like the corn,” I said. “So, what can I do?”

  Princess wandered off, over to her pillow at my desk, where she'd gotten quite comfortable over the last two weeks. Delphinia got to work delegating tasks to me. There was a lot to do, helping with the company changing hands.

  At the end of the day, I was exhausted, but my best friend Renee phoned and insisted on taking me out for dinner and drinks. She said I'd been hit with a triple whammy, or at least a double (she had mixed feelings about the wedding being canceled), and a little luxury would go a long way toward my recovery.

  I took Princess home, as the restaurant wouldn't be as keen on her as my workplace was, and met Renee at one of our favorite restaurants. She felt very strongly that I should call Zach Mikhelson and enjoy every last minute he had in Columbus, and then make him move there permanently. I begged her to not mention his name again, and asked her to distract me with stories from her nanny job.

  “Stuart did the most amazing thing today,” she began. Most of her stories began this way, but I'd met Stuart myself, and he was kind of an amazing kid. He had red hair, big green eyes, and the little five-year-old had every woman he came into contact with wrapped around his finger.

  Apparently Stuart had “hacked” into Renee's phone (and by “hacking,” he'd accurately guessed her password was 1-2-3-4) and sent photos of his family's dog to everyone on Renee's contact list. The clincher, though, was that he hadn't sent just any old photos of the dog's face, but a blurry one that prominently featured the dog's weiner.

  “His weiner,” Renee repeated. “So now all my friends think I'm a pervert.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Honey, I think we all knew.”

  As she moved on to the next amazing thing Stuart did, I pulled out my phone and found the picture, along with some other messages. There was one from an unknown number, saying: Hey, this is my new number. In case you want to chat.

  I wondered if i
t was Zach, but decided the vague message was probably a scam of some sort.

  With my phone tucked away again, I relaxed and enjoyed the food, the drinks, and the soft lighting and relaxing music.

  When I got to my apartment, and saw that the door handle had been smashed off, my heart felt like it stopped. An ice-water sweat choked my skin.

  A safety message from years earlier came back to me, and I ran to get a neighbor to go in with me.

  Charles, a retired gentleman from next door, entered the apartment alongside me, a golf club at his side.

  My laptop was out in plain sight, on the coffee table, so he feared the intruder might still be in the apartment. After a very thorough search, during which the fern that was in my bathroom suffered a fatal injury (Charles said it jumped out at him), we determined the apartment was empty.

  “A jealous woman,” Charles said, pointing to the mirror in the bathroom.

  Smeared in lipstick was the phrase: How do you like that? XOXOX Sharise

  I collapsed against Charles in shock. We were alone, which meant that Princess, my dear little dog of only two weeks, but to whom I'd become attached, was gone.

  Charles got out his phone to call the police, but I told him not to, and I explained the situation to him. I'd met a young man while on my vacation, and he'd given me his dog. The only problem was, he also had a jealous ex-girlfriend. The last I'd heard from him, they were back together, so I couldn't understand why she'd gone to so much trouble to stalk me and ruin my life more than it already was.

  He handed me the golf club. “You have to go take back what's yours.”

  I felt the heft of the club in my hand and surveyed the lipstick and the shattered plant pot and dirt on the floor. In that moment, violence did seem like the answer.

  I was going to return to that small, seaside town, where I'd met Shawn and encountered Sharise. I was going to get my dog back.

  And that was that. I started making the plans in my head.

  Charles went to get his toolbox, and he put a whole new door handle on my door, so I could stay there that night. Charles was the building's handyman, so he actually had the exact right replacement handle.