Page 9 of With a Cherry On Top

As for the rest...My eyes bounce across the screen. Most of this must be photoshopped—or AI or something. Nobody real is that hot.

Her ass, two perfect, swollen circles; her tits, definitely smaller than that other woman Kyle is obsessed with but otherwise ample sized. Her freckled skin, her hips, her endless fucking legs.

Damn, I miss women.

I miss sex. The smell of it, the sound of it, the ego boost of making someone feel good enough that their world tips over. And I miss intimacy. Kissing, hugging. Knowing someone’s ready to pick up the slack if I need it. Talking for hours on end about nothing and everything.

But I certainly won’t find any of it with this woman, no matter how devastatingly attractive she is.

I won’t find any of it on TOP.

I tap to return to my profile, but Mollie seems to think my fingers are her personal playthings. Her paws latch onto my hand, sharp nails sinking into my skin.

“Son of a?—”

A ping cuts me off, and my eyes snap to the screen where a call window has popped up. The ringing continues as I hover over the keyboard, frantically pressing theEsckey over and over.

“No, no, no?—”

I grab the edge of the laptop, ready to slam it shut, but before I can, the black square vanishes and a woman appears in its place.

She’s kneeling on a bed, eyes locked on the camera, lips curved seductively.

My heart stops.

Mollie is still mauling my fingers, but I barely feel it.

It’s her. The goddess. She’s fucking stunning.

“Hello?” she drawls.

Hair as red as fire, fair skin, and adorable freckles that pepper her cheeks and nose and chest.

“Holy shit.”

Her eyes are a dark, muted green, and her smile is contained, until it stretches and she says, “Why, thank you.”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant.” Can she see me? She can definitely hear me, but I don’t see my face on the screen.

“Oh? You don’t think I’m holy-shit beautiful?”

She is. Absolutely. She’s also young. Far too young to appreciate the see-through pink nightgown she’s wearing. The way it dips down her chest and rests on her skin like liquid silk. “No—I mean, yes. I just...I didn’t mean to start the call. My cat—” Noticing Mollie is still wrestling with my hand and making my fingertip bleed, I shake her off. “My cat hates me. She, um, called you.”

“Your cat called me?”

Even if I wasn’t seeing her narrowed eyes, her voice is doubtful enough to tell me she doesn’t believe it for a second. Why would she? I sound insane.

“Yes. My cat called you.”

“Okay.” She leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Meow, then.”

I huff out a single breath, watching her tits press together in the new position.

“Are you new, Chief?”

“Chief?” I echo.

“Your username.”

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