The room was still scented with sex and her perfume—which made me hungry for some reason. I trashed the pastries and ordered steak and eggs to the room. I couldn’t bring myself to eat a cherry turnover right now.
My dick stayed semi-hard right through breakfast and the newspaper. I was in for a fun ride back home with my body already demanding more of this mysterious woman.
I kicked back on the bed and pulled up a real estate website. I could just buy a house and move here so I wouldn’t have to travel so much. It was one of the best performing stores in the nation, so perhaps a second branch should be in the works.
I dialed a realtor and made a meeting for late next week and then reluctantly fetched my suitcase from the closet and threw everything back in it as I finished off her coffee. For crying out loud, I’d never pressure a woman to stay if she didn’t want to, to inflict my personality on her if she only came for dick. But something about Cherry fleeing had me irked. Like why’d she have me do her bidding if she knew she was just going to run?
My dick was as hard as it had been last night, bulging forth from my boxer briefs. I’d have to shower before I headed out, just to run this chick out of my system. It sucked when you felt something and the other person didn’t get it.
In the shower, I took my time, lathering up, letting my cock heat until it pressed all the way against my belly. Then I took it in my fist and give it a good long stroke as I imagined her tits and that sassy mouth, how together they created heaven on earth. Cherry liked to be pushed around a little bit. She’d warmed right up to my games and responded like she’d been waiting her whole life to play them. I stroked harder as I remembered the squeeze of plunging into her wet heat. Every detail my mind conjured of the woman brought forth a pleasant memory. I liked her build, thick and curvy yet somehow petite and dwarfed by my body. Her scent drove me crazy. Mostly, I just liked how it felt to be with her. When I came, my whole spine curled in and then froze. My stomach muscles tensed into a washboard as I gripped the base of my shaft. I came so hard I forgot to breathe, suspended in an orgasm like that. After only one night in bed, Cherry had me wrapped around her little finger. She was something else, but the sooner I forgot her, the better.
I decided to check out the competition before I left town. The bakery idea still made me laugh, but if I was going to open another Roads in this one-horse town, I needed to see what I was up against. When I pulled into the little parking lot, what struck me was that the place was cute. Definitely had a woman’s touch, with white shutters and curtains in the windows. Even the homemade sign was creatively done. The Lace Garage. Sounded like a strip club. There wasn’t a corporate bone in this joint, wasn’t even really competition as I saw it. Maybe people did come here for muffins while they got their mufflers changed. There were a couple of classic cars parked out front that make me whistle under my breath. I had to give one a circle even—a cutie pie Santana painted up like it was headed to Brazilian Carnival. What kind of badass drove that?
When I walked in the front door, a chime sang and I was overcome by warmth and the scent of cinnamon and sugar. The glass case had a skirt around the bottom, the fabric covered in cherries. The same damn fabric that—
“What can I do for you today?”
Her smile dropped from her face faster than kids leave their seats at the sound of the lunch bell.
I couldn’t help but scratch my head in puzzlement at the predicament I’d waltzed into.
“So you knew. That’s cute,” she said. Her smile was patronizing. A hand flew to her hip defensively as she shook cookies off a cooling rack into a wax paper-lined bin.
“If I knew, you think I’d voluntarily come walking into the snake pit?”
“That a Tesla?” A huge, burly man with a beard came ambling out of the garage in coveralls.
“I figured you’d all be wearing lace,” I said more to Cherry than to the giant.
“It’s my day off,” she offered. She’s in an old T-shirt that looked soft from ten thousand washings. Her blue-black hair was tied back in an old-fashioned kerchief. She was wearing torn jeans and clogs. Her skin was pale, makeup free, and flawless. Even after scrubbing me off, she still looked like Snow White in disguise.