Page 173 of Unexpected Redemption

“Sex stuff. That’s what we’re calling it from now on. You have a way with words, sugar.”

I flip him off over my shoulder, fighting a chuckle. He bites gingerly on the tip of my finger, then sinks his hands back between my thighs.

My sass dries up, replaced with a stifled moan.

“Be my good, quiet girl while I do all the sex stuff with you.”

My love and I join the Mile High Club a few minutes later.

Chapter 39

Welcome to Climax. Please come again

LETTIE

Giddy excitement ain’t got nothin’ on me.

I’m pleased as punch and higher than a kite to be strolling hand in hand with the love of my life through theClimax Lemon-Infused TeaFestival. Go ahead and take a moment to digest that before I point out the acronym. I’ll wait.

Yep. We’re at the annual CLIT Fest in a town named Climax.

Can’t make this shit up.

Especially since the town is partially run by Evangelical Christians like Mama. I suspect the nonbelievers on the town council—mainly Erin Lacox, Mindy Root, and Hannah Gamble—are trolling their religious counterparts with this name. How they managed to pull the wool over their eyes like this is damn impressive.

I mean . . .come on. Lemon-infused tea? That’s a stupid phrase to begin with. You don’t infuse tea. You just throw a lemon wedge or eighteen in the pitcher.Bam. Done.

And why a festival to celebrate such a mundane thing?

That being said, it’s a vast improvement from theAnnual Nature And LivestockFestival. Spoiler: It hadnothingto do with nature nor livestock. The festival focus was chosen specifically for the acronym possibilities.

The ANAL Fest committee was chaired by local heathens—Toni Benton, Tracey Uhl Gee, and Susan Dara.

They might have gotten away with it if they hadn’t made the mistake of adding a kickoff parade.

The first float slipped past the prude crew without issue. Designed by renowned Climax pranksters—Robin Warnick, Rachel Kendall, and Michelle Duncan—the float was essentially two giant peaches. The ladies played fast and loose by adding a papier-mâché farmer nestled between the peaches, holding a giant eggplant.

Yes, it was positioned provocatively.

The kiss of death for ANAL Fest was when the second float came gliding down Main Street. And I do meangliding. Tiesha Roberts, Karolyn Kilpatrick, and Nasiha Kücük were responsible for this monstrosity. As an ode to the livestock portion of thefestival, they created a scene resembling a mountainside farm with animals scattered about. But the mountains were obviously hairy butt cheeks, dimples and all. And there was a little cave in the middle with dark moss around it.

But it didn’t end there. Sadly.

Thelaaaststraw was the reflecting pond at the base of the mountain. To get the shimmer of the water just right, they filled it with over seven thousand pounds of lube. Naturally, it melted in the Georgia sun and destroyed the whole float, coating everything. Including the float tires.

Damn thing careened right into Brittney Jacobson’s flower shop. Incidentally, Reina Pierce came up with the brilliant idea to convert the spot into a piston testing facility, given it was coated with lube for years to come.

Needless to say, ANAL didn’t last long in Climax. But the CLIT prevailed.

Tomer pulses his hand around mine, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “Yousureyou didn’t plan this trip to coincide with the CLIT Festival, sugar bear?”

“The timin’ was a happy coinkydink, my love. Although, I ain’t mad ’bout it.”

Being in Climax has brought out my twang in full force. No stopping this train. It makes Tomer’s smile nice and bright, though. So I make no effort to suppress it.

“Sure, sure. Likely story, my little kinky one.”

I tsk at him. “Pshaw, Mr. Dungeon Master.”

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