Cream-Pied (DTF (Dirty. Tough. Female.) Book 2) Page 4

  “Wow! This looks delicious! Thank you.” He beamed, giving me an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

  I cleared my throat. “So, about tomorrow. Are we taking the pussy wagon? Do I get to bounce around in that thing?”

  “You sure do. I got her all cleaned up and ready to go. We’ll be arriving at the farm in style.”

  “Farm? Like a real farm?”

  “Kind of. My ma likes animals, so my dad bought her a cow and some chickens that run around. We also have a pretty big garden. So, if you can call that a farm, then it is. Ma would like more, but business keeps them too busy for her to worry about it much. They have a lot of help, but it never seems to be enough. With them getting up there in age, they can’t manage too much more manual labor.” He took a bite of his taco, and his eyes rolled in the back of his head. “Goodness gracious, woman! This is a burst of happiness wrapped in a tortilla. And the Shizzle! Smoky, sweet, with a bite. Like you,” he continued.

  “Glad you know me so well. I’ll also set your ass on fire. You’ll find that out later. Both from me and the tacos.” My voice fell flat as he stopped chewing and pulled his brows together as if he couldn’t think and chew at the same time.

  “Worth it.” He shrugged, finishing his taco and starting on another.

  My back was facing the taco truck, but I could feel DTF’s eyes on me. I knew what they were doing in there. They were doing the same thing I would be doing if I wasn’t sitting out here with Weston.

  DTF had this little game where, when it was slow, we would come up with conversations people were having outside the truck. We would all go back and forth, laughing our way through ridiculous scenarios as we made up stories about the people around us. Usually, the stories consisted of vibrators, douche bags, being a ho, or constipation. We had no shame, but we probably should. I could only imagine the sex talk inside the taco truck right now.

  I quickly turned my head, looking back into the truck. Sure enough, they all stood, laughing and waving back at me.

  “Let me guess. Your friends are watching us,” he said, drawing my attention back to him.

  “Yep.”

  “Want to give them something to talk about?”

  “What do you have in mind?” I leaned forward. This could get good.

  “You can sit on my lap, stroke my beard, profess your love for me.” He pushed his plate aside and patted his lap.

  “Or you could sit on my lap, stroke my hair, and profess your love for me,” I shot back, ready to get into shenanigans.

  “I’ll crush you!” Weston gasped.

  “You’ve seen my thighs. Do you have any idea how strong they have to be to grip that pole and let me hang upside down? They are made of steel. Hop on.” I patted my lap.

  Weston rose from the table and walked over to me, squatting down and squishing my legs. I cringed, willing the chair to hold us.

  “My beautiful Crystal Cream Pie,” he said, stroking my hair and looking into my eyes. “Am I doing it right?” he muttered, not moving his lips.

  “Grander. Make bigger gestures.” I huffed out, barely able to breathe with a giant on top of me.

  He cradled my face with his palm and smoothed his thumb over my lips before leaning down and kissing me. His beard felt surprisingly soft against my face. I closed my eyes, reached behind his head, and pressed his mouth into mine harder.

  “This is quite the show,” he murmured, still attached to my mouth.

  I stuck my tongue in his mouth, taking it even further. He moaned and relaxed his gigantic self on top of me. My nipples hardened under my work shirt.

  “Phew!” I said, pulling back. “I think that did it. They’re surely mind-blown now. Look at the time!” I checked my watch.

  Weston blinked, his lips still parted from our kiss.

  “You okay there, big guy?” I tapped Dan.

  “Sorry. Yes.” He shook his head. “Late. Time. Right. I’ll just … I’ll …” He stood up. His pants stuck out about a foot, almost knocking me in the face when he turned around.

  “Damn. Well, if our make-out session didn’t do it, that tent you’re pitching in your pants will!” I adjusted myself in the chair.

  I needed to sit on my hands to keep from reaching out and curling my fingers around the full thickness of him. His bulge was like nothing I’d seen before.

  “Shit!” he said, looking down and covering his dick with his hands. “Couldn’t help it! Sorry.” He fished his wallet out of his pocket. “Here, put it in the tip jar. Thanks, Nikki. For the tacos and the hard-on. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to run to the P-wagon before my balls burst.” He threw two hundred-dollar bills on the table and ran off.

  “Tomorrow at eight, right?” I called out after him.

  “Eight!” he answered, jogging to his car.

  I gave a wink and a wave at DTF, who stood glued to the windows of the taco truck.

  FOUR

  Weston

  I rolled out of bed at six a.m. sharp, so I could have ample time to get myself looking hot for my fake engagement getaway to the farm.

  Yesterday, when Nikki had stuck her tongue down my throat, I had known then and there that this fake engagement needed to at least get me another one of her sloppy kisses—or more.

  I showered, soaping up my balls and butt. Not that I was expecting anyone near my balls or butt, but if the opportunity showed itself, I needed to be a clean, lean string bean. I took my razor out of my bag and stretched my ball sack tight, ready to shave myself smoother than a fish’s belly. If I didn’t shave, she might get lost in there. Again, not that I was expecting her to be in that general vicinity. But still, if the opportunity showed itself, yada yada.

  My burly bear hair was one of two things I was self-conscious about. My ability to grow Dan was also my ability to grow little Dan—as in the ’fro down below. The other was my à la natural penis. I’d once looked up circumcision online and sent Ma flowers, thanking her for not doing that to me. I could live with a dick that looked different than most of my American brothers. It sure beat the alternative.

  I hummed to myself, getting a little too carried away with the razor. Before I knew it, I’d shaved my entire nether regions and even my ass. I hoisted one of my long legs up to the soap holder and squatted down into a spread-eagle stance, reaching back behind my balls and making sure I’d rid myself of every gnarly hair attached to me.

  “Damn, my dick looks bigger!” I huffed to myself, toweling off.

  That whole shaving process had taken the wind out of me. I caught my breath before stretching my legs out and slipping on the sexiest, sleek pair of boxer briefs I owned.

  “Weston, my man, time to win over the lady and the parents and get your name on the goods,” I told my reflection in the mirror as I pointed finger guns at myself and clicked my tongue.

  I ironed my khakis and polo shirt, slipped on my leather shoes, and gathered my things. I had about thirty minutes left before I could see my fiancée, and that was enough time to pick her up breakfast. I hurried out the door, packed my P-wagon, and set about finding a coffee shop in Outer Forks.

  With the windows down, I let the fresh morning air blow through Dan. The sun was shining, the weather was perfect, and I couldn’t have asked for a better holiday weekend. I tapped my thumb against the steering wheel as I fantasized about all the way things could go right this weekend. I didn’t think of how they could go wrong. I refused. I didn’t like to put trash into my head. If a situation arose, I’d deal with it then.

  I pulled up to the nearest coffee shop and placed an order in the drive-through. I had no idea what Nikki liked—except lobster, tacos, and booze—so I ordered half the menu. She would at least have options. There wasn’t any sense in me striking out as soon as our rendezvous began. I loaded the backseat with eight greasy bags of food and crossed my fingers that, with my mouth full, I couldn’t put my foot in it at least.

  I typed in her address on my GPS and took a long, slow sip of my hot chocolate. Coffee was di
sgusting. In the morning, I either had a warm glass of milk or hot chocolate with my biscuits and gravy. Growing up at the farm would have buttered me up into a butterball had I not been so damn tall. Lucky for me, I only grew up and not out, so I had no problem indulging in shitty foods.

  I followed my GPS’s voice to an apartment building not too far from the hotel where I stayed. She had texted me her address last night and told me to pull up right in front of apartment 352A, and she would be right out. She had said that she kept her blinds open, letting in the natural light and meditating in the morning, so she would see me as soon as I arrived.

  I ducked my head, looking out over the passenger window and reading the apartment numbers as I passed by. Finally, I found her tucked in the corner of a cove and parked the P-Wagon where she’d requested. I could already see her shadow moving about through her open blinds. I did a quick booger check in my rearview mirror before getting out of my car.

  “What are you doing? Being chivalrous? I got this. Get back in there. It’s only the one. Let’s go. Pop the trunk.” Nikki rolled a gigantic, overstuffed suitcase behind her.

  “Getting it popping,” I sang, pushing the open trunk button on my keys. I helped Nikki wrestle her suitcase into my car. “What’s in here? A dead body?”

  “Not yet.” She wiped her hands together and shut the trunk. “Ready?”

  “Yep.”

  She slid into the seat next to me, buckling up. “What is that smell? Something smells delicious! Is that bacon?”

  “And eggs and bagels and muffins and also maybe a cake pop or five. And I hope you like tea, coffee, or hot chocolate.” I nodded toward the backseat where the bags of food sat.

  “Damn, Weston! How do you think I will eat all of that? Besides, that is spiked cholesterol in a bag!”

  “Don’t you know the best part about a road trip is the crap food? I’m just starting us off on the right foot, is all.”

  “I’m down for it. Now, where is that cake pop and bacon?” She reached behind her, grabbing a bag and rummaging through it. “I’m surprised you let anyone eat in your pussy wagon. Looks like a golden throne in here.”

  “It’s just a car. I can buy another. Oh, before I forget. Here’s that ring.” I handed her the jewelry box I had tucked away in the middle console.

  She licked the grease off of her fingers and slid the ring on, sticking her hand out and admiring the way it caught the light.

  “You’d never know this was a fake! It’s gorgeous!” She brought it up to her eye and peered down into it.

  “That’s because it’s not a fake.”

  “What? You told me it was!”

  “The one at the club was. This one isn’t. My ma would be able to spot a fake.”

  “So, you’re telling me, I have a big-ass real rock wrapped around my finger right now?”

  After our first kiss, that’s not all you have wrapped around your finger, honey. Me and Dan. Me and Dan.

  “Yep.” I pressed my lips into a thin line, tugging at my collar, and cleared my throat. “Ready to go over the plans one more time?”

  “Relax! I got this. I’m a chef. We met at the taco truck when you were in town on business. I want lots of kids, and I like to bake cookies and shit. It’s not that hard. I just have to pretend to be the perfect fifties housewife.” She made a gagging noise with her throat and reached back for the drink tray.

  “I take it, you don’t want to be a housewife?”

  “Do you think someone like me would want to be a housewife?”

  “No. But a trophy wife, I do. I can see you lounging by the pool in a sheer fur-trimmed robe, sipping a mimosa and watching our old, fat pool boy clean the pool.”

  “Hate to break it to ya, Weston, but you don’t know me at all then. My pool boy wouldn’t be old and fat. He would be a ripped-up piece of beefcake.”

  “I know. I had to sneak the other in there. I can’t be having competition for my role as a husband.”

  “Who says you would? A little side piece might not hurt anyone.” She winked, reaching over to pat my knee.

  “Do you really feel that way?” I pouted, already upset over my fake wife fake cheating on me with our fake pool boy.

  “Hell no. And if you—or my future husband—ever pulled some cheating shit on me, I’d take a Louisville Slugger to your P-wagon. You can count on that.” She sipped her coffee and leaned back in her seat, looking out of the passenger window.

  “Thought so. See? I do know you. I notice you didn’t turn down the mimosas and robe.”

  She side-eyed me and laughed. “It’s been a long, hard life. I reckon I could use a little pampering and pleasuring after all I’ve been through. I think it’s in the cards. Actually, I know it is. They told me so earlier this week.”

  “What do you mean, cards told you so?”

  “Page of Pentacles. My tarot reader pulled it. It means I’m expanding my knowledge and wealth. So, maybe I’ll learn how to bake cookies and shit after all. But also get rich, doing that.”

  “Like a housewife.”

  “Mutter that term to me again, and you’re going to be that dead body I planned on packing in my suitcase. I was thinking more along the lines of Martha Stewart or someone with a cooking show or something. Not someone cleaning up after a man,” she groaned, rolling her eyes.

  “No, you wouldn’t have to clean up after a man. You’d have your hot, sexy pool boy cleaning up.”

  “See? Now, you are getting to know me.” She turned on the radio and raised the volume before leaning her head back onto the headrest and smiling.

  I stroked Dan and lost myself deep in thought as we cruised toward the farm. I wondered how many men Nikki was juggling. Surely, someone as beautiful as she was had men falling at her feet. Hell, I was falling at her feet, and I barely knew her.

  I knew she believed in spiritual stuff, ate lobster, had had a bad string of luck with exes who had gotten her into debt, could work a pole, kissed like someone out of a porn movie, and could make tacos. She was perfect. But she didn’t seem to need me or any man in her life. I glanced over at the ring on her finger and willed it to stay.

  I veered off the interstate toward an exit in a sketchy little town.

  “Gotta pee?” Nikki asked, lowering her sunglasses.

  “Nope. There’s a place you might like here—fortune teller. We hire her out for our Halloween events at Westy’s. She has a shop down here. Interested?”

  “Hell yes!” Nikki’s eyes grew wide as she bounced in her seat.

  My head nodded in rhythm with her jiggly boobs, making her laugh.

  “Okay. Hope she’s open.”

  I drove a few blocks past liquor stores with barred doors, a cash-advance place that had boarded-up windows, and a diner that had a parking lot full of trash. I weaved through a few neighborhoods, searching out Fortune Teller Frannie’s shop, which was also her house.

  “Here we go!” I said, pointing at the painted purple brick shack.

  A neon light that read Open hung in the window, but the black curtains were drawn.

  “This looks amazing!” Nikki gushed, hopping out of the car as soon as I parked.

  I followed behind her, up the crumbling concrete stairs, and knocked. I stepped in closer to Nikki, turning around and watching our backs. This area was known for crime, and the last thing I wanted to do was bring Nikki here to get hurt. I could handle myself. I’d once even tucked a teeny-tiny mace spray can inside Dan.

  “Weston Banks! What are you doing here, son?” Frannie said, opening the door. “Come in! Come in!”

  I held the door open, letting Nikki bounce past me through the beaded curtain and into a cloud of patchouli incense.

  “Frannie, this here is my friend Nikki. She and I are on our way to the farm. I thought I’d stop in and check on you and show Nikki some of your work. She loves this type of stuff.” I motioned toward the lava lamps, the hanging crystals, and a black cat with one eyeball that sat on a window ledge.

  �
��Do you now?” Frannie turned toward Nikki.

  “Yes, ma’am. It is all fascinating to me,” Nikki replied, her eyes darting around the shop, gleaming.

  “Good. Let’s see what I can do for you today.” Frannie reached out, grasping Nikki’s hands in hers and closing her eyes for a brief moment before shaking her head. “Yes, child, I know. Come on. Weston, you stay here. I’ll come back for you.”

  Nikki followed Frannie through another beaded curtain, still holding her hand. I paced the room before plopping myself down on a sunken-in green velvet chair next to the cat.

  “Pleased to meet you, oh spiritual one,” I told him.

  He reached out with his paw, swatted Dan, and jumped off the ledge, disappearing into the back of the shop.

  I gasped, offended at the crazy cat that was probably from the underworld.

  “Good riddance, devil cat!” I said, crossing my arms and leaning back into the dusty chair.

  I waited and waited. And then I waited some more.

  I didn’t mind waiting for Nikki. I figured whatever it was that was taking so long needed to be done. Not that I believed in any of this stuff.

  “It’s all just a bunch of hocus-pocus,” I muttered under my breath, talking to myself again.

  I rubbed my face with my palms and closed my eyes for a brief second, deciding that I might as well nap. The wind picked up outside just as I nodded off, rattling the shutters and sending me flying out of my seat, looking every which way for whatever ghost was playing tricks on me.

  “You okay?” Nikki asked from the doorway, smirking.

  “Yes. Just nodded off, is all.” I straightened myself up.

  “Your turn in there,” she said, throwing her thumb back in the direction behind her. “I’ll be right out here, waiting. Good luck.”

  “Good luck? What happened?” My voice hit a high pitch. “She wants to see me? I didn’t come here for me. I think I’m good.”

  “She specifically told me to send you back. The second door on the right. Go get ’em, tiger!” Nikki reached out, smacking my butt as I walked past her and into whatever my future held.