Page 58 of Not the Puck Bunny

I sat on the floor and let the egg trickle down my head and over my face.

“You're really asking for it, you know that.” I wiped egg out of my eyes with the back of my hand.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, Mr. North?”

I pushed myself to my feet and picked up the box of cocoa powder while looking right at her. I pushed my thumb under the cardboard and gave it an exaggerated swipe sideways to open it.

She shook her head. “You wouldn't.”

I pulled out the bag from inside the box. I tossedthe box onto the island and pinched either side of the bag with my fingers. “Wouldn't I?” I stalked towards her.

“It would be a waste of perfectly good cocoa powder,” she argued. She stepped away from me, hands in front of her.

“I'll make a hefty donation to the food bank,” I said. Normally, I hated wasting food, but seeing her covered in flour was worth it.

“I will too,” she said. “But only if you don't throw it at me.”

I cocked my head at her. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Welling.” I folded the top of the bag and shoved it back into the box. “I guess I could order some cupcakes to be delivered.”

“At this point, that seems like a good idea,” she agreed. She wiped a hand over her face, but mostly succeeded in smudging the layer of flour, not removing any of it. “And cleaning all of this up.”

I glanced around and grimaced. We'd made a hell of a mess, but I didn't regret a moment of it. Seeing her laughing and enjoying herself was totally worth the amount of time it would take to exorcise all of the flour from the kitchen.

I scooped up my phone from the other side of the island. Somehow, it missed the worst ofthe flour fight. Bringing my head close to hers, I held up the phone in front of us, the camera on our flour-covered faces.

“While we look like this, we might as well go all the way and take a selfie. I promise I won't share it with the world. Unless you want me to. Say 'chocolate cupcakes.'"

She leaned in closer and smiled. “If only my mother could see me now. Chocolate cupcakes!”

I took a couple of pictures and put the phone back down. “I'll get this sorted, if you want to have a shower,” I offered.

Not gonna lie, I would have loved to have a shower with her, but I meant what I'd said. I wanted her to be comfortable with herself before I took her to bed.

Was I going to give myself the worst case of blue balls in history? Probably.

Did I care? No. I cared more about her than I did about getting off. She was more important to me than sex. More important than an hour or two of mind blowing and very gratifying intimacy.

I didn't want her for a night or two. I wanted her for the long run.

When I heard her come again, I'd know she was ready and committed. If that meant listening to herin my shower, and imagining her naked and wet, then so be it. I'd put myself through worse.

“Help yourself to whatever you can find in my closet,” I added.

She gave me a nervous glance, but stepped carefully towards my bedroom, leaving a trail of flour on the hardwood floor.

A few moments later, I heard the water turn on.

I waited for the protest from my balls and cock, but for once it didn't come. Yes, they throbbed at the idea of her being so close, and bare, but they seemed to understand the necessity of waiting for a while longer. They were more or less content to know it was a 'when' and not an 'if.'

As content as blue balls could be.

“Focus,” I told myself. I grabbed up a sponge and started to wipe down the island, before vacuuming quickly and mopping up the last of the mess.

I was just finishing up when she stepped out of my bedroom, dressed in a pair of my track pants and a Sea Dragons sweatshirt. They were both too big for her, but she looked more edible than when she was covered in food.

“You're so fucking gorgeous,” I said softly. “Especially wearing my clothes.”

She glanced down at herself. “I might have to getmyself one of these sweatshirts. It's so soft and comfortable.” She fingered the fabric.

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