Page 43 of Rockstar Baby
I laughed. “I know it looks like something out of a bomb shelter right now. Me and my brother ripped out all the rusty grills, and I’ve ordered a huge double walled freezer to go right here.” I widened my arms to take up the empty section. “It’ll have room for all my ice cream tubs, and on Sundays, I’ll have gelato. A lighter ice cream for after the big family picnics and dinners.”
He lifted his arms up to hang on the handle above the old ventilation area. “And will you be wearing a cute little striped apron?”
“Shut up. I’ll be wearing a T-shirt and shorts because it will be a million degrees in the summer.”
“Short shorts?” he asked with a lot of hope in his voice. Way more than he should have since he probably wouldn’t be seeing me in said shorts, but I was willing to play along.
“Easier to wipe ice cream off my legs if I keep them short.”
He swallowed. “Is that right?”
Slowly, I moved to where he was. His sweater was a little raised due to his long stretch. “You have any idea how to keep my legs from getting sticky?”
“Jesus.”
I grinned up at him. “Well, I’m only taking my cues from you, sir. I seem to remember a few thoughts you had.” His belly trembled under my nails as I scored the light fur just above his jeans. I went onto my toes to nip his chin. “You have a very talented tongue, LC.”
“Christ.”
I traced little circles along the tight muscles of his abs. “What color do you think I should do?”
“Color?” His eyes went blind as I flicked the tail of his belt through the loops.
“I’m thinking bright, summery colors with a cool chalkboard on the side of the truck.” I unzipped his jeans and lowered myself to the metal bench that still remained in the shell of the truck.
“Ivy.”
“What? I don’t even have to get my knees dirty.”
His grip tightened and so did the muscles in his arms. Even under a sweater, they were deliciously impressive. “It’s cold as fuck.”
“You won’t be cold in a minute.”
“We’re in a fucking truck.”
“My ice cream truck.” I pulled him free of his boxers and licked his shaft. I grinned up at him. “Want me to show you how I stop any drips?”
He shut his eyes and let out another string of words I couldn’t understand.
I swiped my tongue along the flared head of his very interested cock. “That’s a yes?” I took him into my mouth and released him with a little pop. “So, what’s your favorite flavor?” I bit my lower lip as I gripped him a little harder. “Salted caramel?” I gave him a careless lick. “Or wait, is that mine?”
“Sweet bleeding Jesus.”
“So many churchy references. Your mom would wash your mouth out.”
“Can we not mention my mum right now?”
I licked my way up the underside of his cock, winding the path of a vein with the tip of my tongue. “Well, then tell me,” I took a long, slow mouthful of him and let him free, “what your favorite flavor is.”
“Peppermint.”
“Like a candy cane?” I twisted my fingers around him. “Interesting.”
“Like those sweets.” His voice was strangled.
I could take pity on him, but where would be the fun in that? I took him deeper until I couldn’t take anymore. Then I let him free with a gulp of my own. He really was an impressive specimen. “Which sweets?” I stroked again.
“The dark chocolate ones with the… Christ, how do you do that?”
