Page 91 of With a Cherry On Top

Charlotte’s lying in bed, scrolling on her phone. Meeting my gaze, she drops it beside her. “Finally.”

She reaches under her dress and pulls her underwear down, and I get lost in the movement for a second—on the green silk sliding down her perfect thighs.

Quickly, I recover. “N-no, don’t—don’t take off, uh, anything.”

She stops, panties halfway down her legs. “Why not?”

“Because...”Focus, Aaron.“Because everything I said is still true. I still work for your mom, and if this were to come out?—”

She waves me off. “I won’t say anything.”

“And I’m so much older than you, Charlotte.”

“Trust me, experience plays in your favor. I don’t wreck appliances every time I orgasm.”

I smile, then inwardly curse myself and stop. Her words feed my ego in a way I wasn’t prepared to sustain. It’s like she’s fucking healing me, telling me that Icanmake sex pleasurable for someone. That it’s not entirely my fault my wife refused to touch me for years. That I’m not completely broken.

She slides her underwear down to her ankles. “Remind me to breathe, Chef.”

Though it’s hidden by her dress, I can see her pussy as if it’s engraved in my brain. I can smell her, taste her. I’m hard before I can shake my head again.

“My brother, Charlotte. My boss is counting on me, and I—” Her legs spread. “You’re off-limits.”

She pulls her dress up to her hips, uncovering her glistening pink pussy. “Good thing I’m not one to follow recipes.”

I groan into my hand, my erection straining against my jeans and painfully pulsating.

What was I saying? I’m sure it was important.

“Your reluctance has been noted, Chef.” Her hair is like a fiery halo on the pillow as her legs spread wider and her dress bunches at her hips. I can smell her—sweet, musky, fucking intoxicating. Her lips are wet, swollen, and begging for attention, with a single bead of arousal clinging to her slit, daring me to taste it. “You’re a Good Guy. CapitalGs. Now, should I start without you?”

My breath comes in shallow gasps as I watch her tease herself, her hips rocking into her own touch. She’s a fucking goddess, and Ineedto worship her.

Just once more. Seriously, what’s one more time? It won’t change a thing.

She must see the decision forming in my mind, because with a commanding voice, she says, “Close the door.”

As if in a trance, I slam the door shut, then cross the room.

“On your knees, Chef.”

I drop my knees to the floor, a roaring sound coming out of my throat.

“Now make me come on your tongue.”

I dive forward and waste no time, burying my face between her legs. My beard is drenched even before I open my mouth and begin lapping at her.

“Oh, fuck,” she whimpers, her thighs clamping around my head as I work her clit with my tongue. “This is perfect, Chef. Perfect.”

Wrong.

She’sperfect.

The most perfect mistake.

I roundthe corner at the apple orchard and find Kyle, shirtless and sweating, surrounded by a graveyard of chopped logs. He pulls out his headphones and grins. “Yo, Coleman!”

“Jesus,” I say, eyeing the destruction. “How long have you been at this?”

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