Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I jerk when someone knocks on the bathroom door.
Orgasmus interruptus, if that’s even a thing.
My pussy goes numb, and Sebastian withdraws his fingers and sucks on them before he asks, “Who’s there?”
A throat clears. “It’s Evangeline. It’s time for dinner.”
“We’ll be out in a minute, Evie.” Sebastian turns back to me and smiles. “I guess we’ll have to finish later.”
“Is that a promise?” I ask boldly.
“Sugar, I could play with that hot little pussy all night.” He leans closer. “Tell me something.”
“What?”
“Have you ever been in a threesome? Like with another woman and a guy?”
My cheeks heat. Does he know about the thing with Alex and June this morning? He must not, or he wouldn’t ask me that. Do I admit to it?
“Ariel?” he says.
“I…uh…yeah. I’ve done that.”
“Would you be up for one with me and one of the ladies here?”
Disappointment sweeps through me. I already blew it with Alex by seducing him with June. I don’t want to blow it with Sebastian as well.
“Who did you have in mind?” I ask, trying to sound coy rather than devastated.
“Heather. The two of you are complete opposites. Naughty and nice. And I think the three of us could have a fun time together.”
Which one of us is naughty? But I don’t ask. I know it’s Heather with her dark beauty. She has some kind of snake tattoo and I have Tweety Bird on my asscheek.
“I… I’ll think about it.”
Sebastian wets a cloth in the sink with warm water and then cleans me up, moving my panties back into place. “Think hard,” he says. “I’ll be hoping we can make it happen.” He rinses the cloth and discards it. Then he helps me to my feet. “Okay? Any pain?”
“No.”
It’s not a lie. My leg doesn’t hurt anymore. Only my heart.
I’m sure I’m red as one of Mama’s plump tomatoes when Sebastian and I walk into the kitchen. I feel like I have a new tattoo, this one on my forehead that’s flashing I just got finger-banged in the bathroom.
But no one seems to notice of us. They’ve all retired to the deck where a table is set up, and staff members are serving our Jamaican shrimp and coleslaw garnish.
Marc describes the dish as Sebastian and I find our places at the table. I’m sitting across from Misty. Great. I’m at the end of the table, so no one is to my right. But to my left?
Heather.
Misty smiles at me after taking a bite of the shrimp. “This is delicious, Ariel. You three did a great job.”
“Thank you,” I say simply.
All I did was mix up the coleslaw. The shrimp I deveined ended up on the floor. Sebastian and I didn’t do much at all, and Misty knows it. What is she up to?
But I forget about her a moment later when I take a bite of the shrimp. It’s spicy, but oh my God, it nearly melts in my mouth. I’ve always liked shrimp, but I never knew it could be like this. The coleslaw is delicious too, and it works really well with the shrimp. It’s all darned good, even if I didn’t do much.
“Make sure you taste everything,” Chef Pierre says. “As you know, we’ll all be voting on the best dish later. Judge each dish on its own merits. Resist the urge to compare it to another dish because the dishes are all very different. Don’t compare a vegetable to a dessert, as we all know which one will win out. Rather, judge a vegetable against all vegetables.”
“It’s so silly,” Misty says to me. “We’re all just going to vote for ourselves.”
“Maybe not,” I reply.
“Come on, Ariel. Of course we are, so we have to depend on the chefs.” She smiles. “By the way, I’m so sorry about your cut. Emily feels terrible about it.”
I look down the table where Emily is chatting with Alex. She seems fine to me.
Sebastian and I, despite being partners for the cook-off, aren’t seated anywhere near each other. Sebastian is next to June, and he’s currently feeding her shrimp from his fork. I try to ignore the green punch to my gut.
A staff member comes by with a bottle of wine. “Would you like to try the sommelier’s wine pairing for the appetizer? It’s a dry rosé from the south of France.”
“Sure. Why not?” It looks a lot like the Strawberry Blush Jazz and I used to drink after high school football games. Before I quit school, that is.
The server pours a little into my glass.
“I’d like a little more than that,” I say.
“I thought you might like to taste it first.”
“Oh. Sure.” I bring the wine glass to my lips and take a sip.
Ugh! I try not to make a face. That’s not Strawberry Blush. It’s not sweet at all.
Then again, I drank champagne the first night. It wasn’t sweet either, and it grew on me. I liked how the bubbles tickled my nose.