“Remember the grapefruit. I could cut a hole in it. You need to be adaptable.” She patted his hand again.
“And then there would be cream all over my dick.”
“Yeah, I suspect that would be inevitable.”
“It would definitely be inevitable,” he said. “So after you ate the donut—and hopefully didn’t bite me—you’d have to lick off the cream.”
“Ooh. Sounds dirty.”
“But if you’re going to put a donut on my dick,” he continued, “you might as well go all-out. Chocolate dip? Boston cream? Those are boring. I used to go to a gourmet donut place in Vancouver, and they had pumpkin spice donuts every fall, filled with pumpkin spice custard.”
“Pumpkin spice donut dick. I like it.”
“They also had a cherry cheesecake one, with cherry jelly and cheesecake filling.”
“OMG, you’re making me hungry.”
“For donuts?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or...?”
And even though they’d been talking about something utterly ridiculous, Amber couldn’t help clenching her thighs together.
“Both,” she said.
“I’d take you to that donut shop if it was anywhere near here.”
“There’s a donut place in London called Glazed. I went there a few weeks ago.”
“We could go together sometime.”
He was making plans for the two of them, but Amber couldn’t keep doing this. She couldn’t go out with Sebastian. Their families would drive them absolutely bonkers, and they already drove her bonkers as it was. She’d only be willing to put up with that if she was head-over-heels in love with him, and she wasn’t.
She had to put an end to this. Today would be their last time together. It was getting too intimate for her.
“So, what do you think you’d prefer?” Sebastian asked. “Pumpkin spice donut dick, or cherry cheesecake donut dick?”
“A honey cruller would be less messy, and I think it would flatter the shape of your penis. Though the cherry cheesecake would bring out the color.”
“Ahem.”
Amber whipped her head around. The server was standing at the end of their table, one pizza in each hand. She told herself not to blush. There was nothing strange about these sorts of conversations at lunch, was there?
Okay, maybe there was.
“Thank you so much,” Amber said as the server set down her pizza.
Her dining companion covered his embarrassment by drinking his water.
Unfortunately, he choked.
“You okay?” she asked when the server had walked away.
“I’m fine. But perhaps we should keep the conversation a little more PG-rated for the rest of the meal.”
“I know, I’m terrible. You can’t take me anywhere.”
He smiled at her from across the table, and that definitely did not make her heart sing.
No, it did not.
* * *
For dessert, Amber suggested they get tiramisu. To go.
Sebastian looked rather concerned.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not going to coat your penis in tiramisu.”
“After our earlier conversation, I hope you understand my fears.”
“Hmm.” She put a finger to her chin and pretended to consider it. “Intriguing idea.”
“Amber,” he said sternly, in a way that made her want to misbehave.
They did end up getting the tiramisu to go, and when they arrived at Amber’s apartment, she slid it onto a plate and placed it on her small dining room table.
“Now let me slip into something more comfortable,” she said with a wink.
She went to her bedroom and opened up her night table. She pulled out the skimpy red babydoll that she hadn’t worn in quite a while. Normally, she wouldn’t put on lingerie for a man who wasn’t her boyfriend, but she looked stunning in this, and she wanted Sebastian to see it once.
Because this would be the last time.
There would be no experimenting with grapefruit and donuts in the bedroom. No more swapping pieces of pizza at lunch and clutching the table in laughter.
A tear fell from her eye, and she swiped it away angrily.
She would not cry.
They had no future together, and she was starting to get too attached. This was the way it had to be, and she could handle it like an adult.
She strutted out of the bedroom, chin held high, one hand on her hip.
Sebastian’s mouth fell open. He stalked toward Amber, his gaze riveted on her.
“You look...wow.”
His mouth collided with hers. One hand came up to squeeze her ass; his other hand was in her hair.
When he slid his lips to her neck, she said, “Don’t you want to eat your tiramisu?”
“Later.”
“You have something else you’d rather eat?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Well, too bad for you. I want my tiramisu.” Admittedly, it would be torture for her as well, but she thought it would be worth it.
“Alright.” He led them to the table. “Let’s make this fair.”
He whipped off his shirt and placed it on the chair next to him.
She swallowed.
He looked particularly good without a shirt. Her eyes lingered on his arm muscles, then followed the light trail of hair...
“We’ll eat the tiramisu later,” she decided.
“Nope, you wanted to eat it now. So we will.”
He held a spoonful of mascarpone cream up to her lips. It was rich and delicious.
It was not the most interesting thing in the room.
“Good girl,” he murmured, then had a bite of the dessert himself. He licked his lips slowly, almost obscenely, before feeding her again.
She, in turn, fed him a bite.
“Now keep eating,” he said, pulling her into his lap so she was facing the table. As she ate the next few bites of dessert, he slid his hands up and down her bare legs and dipped his fingers inside her barely-there thong, which matched her babydoll. She pressed back against his bare chest.
He hissed out a breath when he touched her wetness.
She was supposed to keep eating, though. So she raised the spoon to her mouth, her hand shaking, and slid it between her lips.
He slipped his finger inside her, and his thumb circled her clit.
She gasped.
“I love the noises you make,” he murmured. He continued to stroke her leisurely as she swallowed. “You’re so fucking sexy.” His other hand rubbed the bottom of her babydoll. “Did you buy this just for me?”
She shook her head. “I’ve worn it for a bunch of guys.”
It was the
