Soft Serve Sweetie (Plus Size Romance 2) Page 3

  He got up around six and made some coffee. There was a light on in the guest room, and he heard Cherry stirring. Again, he knocked on the door, but she didn’t respond. She was definitely pissed, and he didn’t blame her. Figuring it best to give her some time and space, he decided to go into work a little early. He’d grab a bite later with Knox. He had texted late last night, saying he was feeling much better and would be back on the job today.

  Hopefully, Cherry would be in better spirits when he got home. He really needed to tell her what was on his mind and in his heart.

  ZANE WATCHED IN AMAZEMENT as Knox put away seven strips of bacon, five sausage links, three scrambled eggs, hash browns and two pecan waffles covered in maple syrup.

  “I wish your appetite was better,” Zane said.

  Knox leaned back in the Waffle House booth and patted his stomach. “You try losin’ it at both ends for two days straight and see if your tank don’t register empty. Speakin’ of appetites, yours don’t seem too good. Tell me what’s goin’ on, man.”

  Zane filled Knox in on all the happenings of the last twenty-four hours.

  Leaning forward conspiratorially, Knox asked in a whisper, “Are you tellin’ me you’ve agreed to pop Cherry’s cherry?”

  “I wouldn’t put it that crudely, but, yes.”

  Knox shook his head, gave his mouth one last wipe, balled up his napkin and tossed it onto his empty plate. “After seventeen years on the beat, I didn’t think I could be surprised. But partner, you’ve just shocked the shit out of me. Does this deflowerin’ plan of yours include a strategy for the aftermath? You’re not exactly the hit-and-run type.”

  “No, but maybe I should be in this instance. Cherry’s young, and youth is always in a hurry. I think she just wants to do the deed without any long-term entanglements.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Her. In my house. In my bed. In my life.”

  Knox clucked his tongue. “You got it bad, buddy. You got it real bad.”

  “I was hoping you’d tell me something I didn’t already know.”

  Zane motioned for the waitress and paid the check. Knox left the tip, slid out of the booth and said, “Let’s roll.”

  The officers regularly patrolled four neighborhoods, including Zane’s. When they turned down Oakgrove Avenue and drove past his house, he frowned. Cherry’s Buick wasn’t in the driveway.

  “Shit!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Zane blew out an exasperated breath. “I think my soft serve sweetie has flown the coop. And I got a hunch she might be about to make the biggest mistake of her life,” he said, making an illegal U-turn and switching the sirens to full blast.

  A few minutes later he careened into the parking lot of Pete’s Ice Cream Parlor, screeching the tires. He barely brought the patrol car to a roll stop before jumping out.

  As Zane was slamming the driver’s door, his partner called after him, “Holler if you need backup.”

  Zane waved him off and burst through the doors like a mad man. In seconds he had spotted Pete and bellowed, “Where is she?”

  Pete smirked and jerked his head toward a door across the lobby. “In the storage room with the rest of my junk where she belongs.”

  Zane growled, “I oughta break your scrawny neck for saying that. Instead, I think I’ll give my friend at DHEC a call. This roach hole will be shut down by noon tomorrow.”

  The scared shitless, pasty-white look on Pete’s face was priceless, but Zane couldn’t fully enjoy it until he made sure Cherry was all right.

  He rushed to the storage room and knocked. His stomach muscles grabbed at the sound of her sweet voice.

  “I’ll be out in a minute, Pete.”

  “It’s Zane. Open up.”

  He held his breath until he saw the doorknob slowly turning and didn’t release it until he had stepped inside the room. It was tiny. There were tall metal shelves lining one wall and a twin bed against the other.

  Cherry closed the door behind him.

  Before saying a word, he reached out and locked it.

  She gasped. “What are you doing here, Zane?”

  “I think the better question is, why did you leave?”

  He watched color spread across her lovely face. He knew she was uncomfortable and embarrassed, but damn it, she had to talk to him. Had he forced a verbal confrontation this morning, they wouldn’t be here right now. It was all he could do not to squeeze her up in a bear hug. She was so damn cute and sexy in her denim mini-skirt and pink t-shirt.

  “I thought it would be best. You know, since you changed your mind. Since you no longer want me.”

  Zane couldn’t keep the look of incredulity from his face. But he knew words would never convince her of his desire. Cherry Mercer needed action.

  Squatting in front of her, he placed his hands beneath her ample thighs and lifted.

  She squealed in surprise but instinctively wrapped her legs tightly around him.

  The hard, throbbing length of his erection pushed against her sacred center as he licked and nibbled the side of her neck. Her sweet sighs and moans lured him to her mouth where he kissed her deeply, entangling his tongue with hers.

  His voice was graveled by desire. “Does that feel like I don’t want you?” he murmured against her lips.

  “It felt like that last night, too. But you stopped. Why?”

  “Because I’m stupid and stubborn, forty and old-fashioned. I thought you’d be happier if we got to know each other a little before making love. I thought your first time should be with a man that was offering you a commitment. I was wrong. You told me what you wanted, and I let you down. But I’m here now to make things right,” he said, sliding his hand beneath the hem of her skirt.

  Hearing Cherry’s breath rush from her on a trembling sigh sent a lightning bolt straight to his dick. His own breath was coming hard and fast while his fingers teased her pussy lips through her drenched underwear. He dipped the middle one to the center of her pleasure and flicked her clit.

  “Oh, that feels so good, Zane. Much better than when I touch myself,” she moaned, arching and straining her hips against his hand. She writhed frantically as his fingers fluttered over her feminine folds. She clutched at his hard biceps.

  “Just relax, baby, and let it happen,” he whispered in her ear.

  HE HAD BARELY SPOKEN the words when she cried out, her whole body tensing then trembling as shockwaves of pleasure crashed over her.

  Cherry was overwhelmed and exhilarated by the orgasm Zane gave her. She had never experienced anything more intense than the ministration of his fingers on her most sensitive flesh. He certainly knew his way around a clitoris. She would give him that. She suspected it was just one of the advantages of being an older, experienced man.

  Gazing into his eyes, she saw longing and desire. But she also saw something else—love. A sudden surge of emotion filled her chest. If she wasn’t careful this man could easily tear down the walls she had spent years constructing. She couldn’t let that happen but, still, she needed to have him inside her. Just the thought made her shiver with anticipation. It would be fine. She was sure she could have intercourse with him without developing any deeper connection.

  Steeling her resolve, she smiled and said, “Make a woman out of me, copper.”

  GROWLING HE CARRIED HER over to the bed and gently lay her across the mattress. He helped her pull the pretty pink T-shirt over her head. Like a man dying of thirst, he drank in her beauty; the smooth creaminess of her skin, her full breasts, curves that made his mouth water. “Need some help taking off that skirt?”

  She giggled. “No, I got it.”

  He didn’t think his cock could get any harder. But the sight of Cherry squirming around on the mattress, shimmying her way out of that little denim mini-skirt sent every drop of blood in his veins straight to his crotch.

  “Son of a bitch! You’re sexy as hell, woman,” he said, shedding his uniform. When he was completely naked, he stood s
till in front of her. He wasn’t sure if she had ever seen a man in the buff. He wanted to give her a moment to get used to the sight of his fully-erect manhood before he pounced on her. He didn’t have to wait long before she gave him the greenlight.

  “I’m ready, Zane,” she said, shyly.

  There wasn’t much room on the twin bed, so missionary was pretty much his only positioning option. He used a knee to push her legs apart so he could center himself over her. She had left her panties and bra on. Her modesty was obvious, and he was okay with working around them. This was her moment, and she was the one calling the shots.

  He supported himself on one elbow, so his other hand could freely roam her body. He caressed her breast while teasing her lips apart with his. When she moaned into his mouth, he slid his tongue inside. He slowly, sensually, caressed the deep recesses of her mouth until she ground her hips against his.

  Gently but firmly, he plucked at the budded nipple through the lacy fabric of her bra.

  “Please, Zane,” she whimpered.

  He smiled teasingly. “Please what, baby?”

  “Take me now.”

  He had desperately wanted to go slow. He wanted to worship her body and bring her to orgasm again. But he reminded himself of what she had said in the interrogation room at the station: You don’t have to woo me to screw me. It’s practically a done deal.

  Apparently, she wanted it to already be a done deal.

  Reaching between them, he pushed the delicate lace of her panties to the side. Ever so gently, he nudged her entrance with the head of his dick. The anticipation of taking this woman’s innocence and making her his in every sense of the word was enough to make him shoot his wad.

  She moaned sweetly when he slowly pushed inside her. With each inch of penetration, he held still, letting her adjust to his length and girth. Halfway in, he felt a thin veil of resistance. The delicate tissue that, once torn, could never be made whole again. The weight of the moment and the responsibility he bore nearly crushed him. Cupping her cheek, he looked deep into her eyes. “It’s not too late to stop, sweetheart. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Oh, God, yes, Zane. I want it.”

  He clenched his jaw to keep from asking, “Is it only my cock you want? Do you not want me in your life and in your heart, too?” But he already knew the answer. Even so, he would relish this moment in time. Whether she ever came to him after this day or not. Whether she ever reciprocated his feelings or not. He didn’t give a fuck. He loved her, and if this was his only chance to show it, then by God, he was going to make the most of it.

  Holding her gaze, he thrust through her hymen. The flash of pain that filled her eyes tore his soul in two. She bit her bottom lip and winced again as he pushed himself as deep as he could go. Feeling her feminine walls throb and pulsate around him, he asked, “Did I hurt you much?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “You hurt me so good.”

  Returning her smile, he rotated his hips in a rhythm as old as time. Once Cherry began to move with him, he resumed thrusting. He moved steadily in and out of her, watching her face in wonderment. The pain had been replaced with pleasure. Knowing she was enjoying it gave him the freedom to take his own pleasure. More than anything he wanted to fill her to overflowing. He wanted to share the most intimate part of himself, to truly meld their bodies together in a ritual that would bond them for life. Maybe she would never love him. But they would always be a part of each other from this moment forward.

  IT HAD BEEN EXACTLY one month since Zane had assisted Cherry in losing her virginal status and, God, was he ever a mess. When he had left the ice cream parlor that day, he told himself they had created a beautiful memory to cherish. But he hadn’t anticipated how badly it would hurt to be away from her. How lonely and empty his heart and house would feel without her in it.

  With each passing hour, his love and desire for her had grown stronger. But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Before he walked out of the tiny storage room, he had given her the key to his house and made his feelings for her clear.

  Cherry had all the power now. He wasn’t going to pressure her or push himself on her. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone or anything. Yet he needed her to come to him because she wanted to, not because he pressed her. Because she loved him, not because he begged or guilted her into it.

  His misery was overwhelming. He had all but ceased to live. Workdays passed by in a blur, and all of his pastimes had fallen by the wayside. All he could do was miss her. Arriving home each evening, he hoped to find her Buick parked in the drive. He longed to walk through the door and smell her cooking, hear her singing along to the radio like she’d been doing the first day they’d met. Every evening he was gravely disappointed.

  Enough was enough, he told himself. Not knowing what else to do, he packed his gym bag and resolved to work his pain out on the treadmill. If he was lucky, he might run fast enough and hard enough to blow out what was left of his broken heart.

  He had just finished lacing his running shoes when he heard a knock at the door. For a second, he felt elated. Then it dawned on him. If it was Cherry, she would have used her key. Dragging himself up from the sofa, he went to see who it was. His eyes bulged when he looked through the peep hole. The woman on his stoop was so short and slight of build, he had looked over her head and nearly missed her—a petite Hispanic woman—who appeared to be in her early twenties.

  Opening the door, he gave her a quizzical look. He was not in the mood for chitchat, and he sure as hell wasn’t interested in whatever she was selling. She was probably some religious fanatic bearing witness to his eternal damnation. Well, too late. He was already in hell.

  He watched as her lips pulled back into a thousand-watt smile, revealing rows of tiny white teeth. “Usted es el hombre que no deja de caer por los agujeros de mi atrapasueños.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Forgive me, please. I have spent much time in Mexico lately. I sometimes forget to speak English here. “I said, ‘You are the man who keeps falling through the holes of my dreamcatcher.’”

  “Of course. That makes perfect sense,” he said, not trying to mask the sarcasm in his voice. “Are you feeling all right? Maybe I should call someone to come get you.”

  “Why would you do that? I am Gabriela Vega. I have come to see your wife.”

  Zane frowned. He felt like his grey matter was being twisted into a pretzel. “Lady, you’ve got the wrong person. I’m a bachelor, single, unattached, unmarried, foot loose and fancy free, comprender?”

  “Are you not Señor Zane Barrett?”

  Zane was becoming more confused by the minute. “I am.”

  “Bueno! Then you are the right man. But something here is not right. You should be married to my best friend by now. I saw your nuptials in my dream. You were so happy, and Cherry was so beautiful. She was glowing as only a pregnant woman can. I came here to congratulate her.”

  Zane felt dizzy as beads of sweat popped out on his forehead.

  “Señor, you do not look so well. Come, let us go inside your casa. We will sit and talk.”

  Still stunned and shaken, Zane plopped down on the sofa and motioned for Gabriela to take a seat in the chair across from him. After taking a few deep breaths, he felt more in control of his thoughts.

  “Look, Miss Vega, I appreciate you coming all this way to visit Cherry. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you. But no congratulations are in order here.”

  She shook her head. “I do not understand. You took her innocence, did you not?”

  Heat crawled up his neck. “Did you see that in your dreams as well?”

  She giggled. “Do not be silly, Officer Barrett. Your bride—I mean Cherry—told me.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “Did she also tell you I was merely a means to an end? That she wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship with me?”

  “No. I am afraid she has not told me anything in weeks.
I have been dealing with my loco father and his failing jalapeño farm. It was only yesterday I realized so much time had passed since she and I had talked. I tried to call her mobile phone, but she did not answer. Last night, I dreamed once more of her wedding and figured she was busy with her new husband. I felt an overwhelming urge to come and see her. I wanted to wish her well, to place my hand on her belly and bless the life inside.”

  This woman was giving Zane a headache. He was beginning to think her father wasn’t the only one in her family who was loco. “I appreciate your efforts, Miss Vega, but there was no wedding. And I’m damn sure there will be no child. I—”

  “Fine,” she said, sounding defensive. “The two of you have not been wed, yet. But my dreams are never wrong. Tell me, Mr. Barrett, did you sheath your manhood before taking my friend to bed?”

  All the color drained from his face. “No.”

  “And why not?”

  Zane stood and began pacing. Several good reasons or, more accurately, rationalizations for not using protection ran through his mind. First, their consummation had been spontaneous. He had only intended to talk some sense into her that day. His plan was to bring her back here and make love to her in his home. His intention had been to stop her from making a colossal mistake with that rat-bastard Pete. But when he saw her standing there, sweet and wide-eyed, thinking he didn’t want her, he had to remove any doubt. He wanted to show her how very much he did desire her. From a purely animalistic standpoint, he needed to lay claim to her. To possess her. To show her, if only for that moment, she belonged to him. Selfishly, he hadn’t wanted any barriers between them when he took her, not even a condom. But he wasn’t about to say that to Gabriela Vega.

  He cleared his throat. “I didn’t think protection was warranted. Cherry was anxious and determined to lose her virginity. Given that, I assumed she was on the pill. And not that it’s any of your business, but I’m clean. I’ve not been in a romantic or sexual relationship with anyone for a quite a long time. There was no cause for either of us to worry about sexually transmitted diseases.”