Sighing, she says, “They’re usually the first to go, and I’m stuck with store-bought apple pie.”
“Not this year, love.” I stand up and march to the front and scoop up the whole damn tray of cupcakes.
I return to our table and slide it in front of her. I’m not a big sweets person, but these do look delicious. They are small, easily devoured in two bites.
“I can’t eat the whole tray,” she whispers.
“Then let’s share your two favorites.” I sit down next to her, take one of the vanilla iced chocolate cupcakes, and slowly unwrap it.
Her eyes flutter, like a hint of a strip tease she could do for me.
“Open, love,” I command.
I watch her mouth, with those lips that drive me crazy, as she opens her mouth and closes her eyes.
Feeling playful, I bite gently into one side, holding the dessert, and bring our mouths together. When my lips touch hers, her eyes flash open, and she giggles. I bite down fully, and the other half tumbles into her waiting mouth. Her smile reaches those hazel eyes, and fuck me, I’m a goner.
“Christ, these are good.” I chew and swallow, wanting more.
More of everything Fallon loves.
Her eyes roll into the back of her head as she eats the cupcake, and I can’t help picturing if that’s what she would look like on her knees choking on my cock. God, I can’t think like that. I can’t touch an angel like her.
Angels don’t swing shovels at men who harass them.
Good point.
I look up and see people drifting over to our table, forming a line to get a cupcake. No one wants one of those other wrapped-up turds.
“Can we get a cupcake, man?” the poor sod at the front of the line asks me.
“Only if you ask me nicely, and thank Fallon for the only edible dinner dish here today.” I glare at each one. “And you’d better sound sincere.”
One by one, these ungrateful gits steal our cupcakes after they pour on their sugary praise. Fallon glows, soaking up the faint scraps of kindness for her hard work and delicious food.
With the sun setting earlier, it’s dark by the time it’s acceptable for us to leave.
She exhales and looks stressed. “I have to say goodbye to everyone. Some people want hugs. I don’t want that.”
I place a finger on her lips. “You don’t have to hug anyone. In fact, you don’t have to say goodbye at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hold that thought.” I get her dish back from the serving table, licked clean. “Ever hear of the Irish exit?”
“No.” Her eyes light up. “What’s that?”
I smile. “I’ll show you. Take my hand.”
Looking down at mine, she blushes, gripping our fingers together. “Okay.”
The contact startles me. The warmth, the electricity of our skin touching. I feel like I’m a better man just by holding her goddamn hand.
“Now face the door.” We swing around. “And we justleave.”
“Wow.” She lets me lead her. “This is cool.”
The perfumed scents from the candle room and gentle glow of their flicker have me wanting to bring her in there, lift that velvet skirt, and take her against the wall.
