Love and Candy Canes

“I am the vice-president of my family business and I like to play golf. I also collect vintage sports cars.”

“That sounds interesting,” she says.

“Oh yeah? Which part?”

“All of it. I have follow up questions. What is your favorite car and what kind of business?”

“My 1969 Corvette. As for the family business, we make ice cream,” I say causing her eyes to widen.

“Tresoro Family Ice Cream in Port Republic?” she asks slowly.

“One in the same,” I say proudly. I am proud of all that my family has been able to accomplish in the last thirty-five years or so. My father took an old family recipe for ice cream and made it skyrocket. Over the years we’ve introduced several new flavors but our most popular is surprisingly vanilla.

“Oh my God. You guys used to make my favorite ice cream, but you discontinued it. I was so bummed.”

The only flavor we’ve ever discontinued was about six years ago. Candy Cane Delight. It was our least popular flavor, not even selling well at Christmas. It cost more to make it then we were bringing in. It was a solid business decision through and through. We get more requests for it now that it’s off the market than we did while it was in production.

“I’m sorry. What did you love about it,” I ask as the waitress sets the pizza down on the wire cooling rack. She makes sure we are good on drinks, then she’s off again. My background is research and development. I want to know more.

“What’s not to love? The pure vanilla flavor and a hint of peppermint and the bonus chunks of real Swedish candy canes. It was just wonderful. A party in my mouth.” The blush that grows on her cheeks is instant. It makes want to see how far down it goes. Can I turn her on enough to blush all over?

“Oh really?” I ask quirking an eyebrow at her.

“Yes. Best thing I’ve ever tasted,” She says with a smirk.

“So far,” I reply leaning over to tuck a piece of her now dry hair behind her ear. She shivers when my fingers graze over her cheek and I love it.

“Oh, my,” she whispers.

I was captivated by her when I saw her from afar, now that I am sitting here talking to her, I am gone. Beyond gone. Everything I have done in my life has brought me to this point. I have never made time for women. In high school I was a nerd, in college they knew I was rich, same as now. I knew what I didn’t want but as for what I want, Savannah checks all those boxes for me. I smile at her. I want nothing more than to bury my cock in her. Shaking my head to clear it, I finish my pizza and down my beer, my throat suddenly dry.

Between the two of us, we finish the pizza. Harley came back and told us to have a nice evening. She really didn’t leave a bill, so I tipped her a hundred dollars and grab Savannah’s bag and stand. I hold my hand out for hers which she takes. It’s just now getting dark.

“Would you like to take a walk on the beach?” I ask, not wanting the night to end.

“Yes,” she says quickly like she wants the same thing as I do. I lean down to her and kiss her. The moment my lips touch hers, I know without a fucking shadow of a doubt she was made to be my wife and the mother of my children. Mine. She whimpers and her lips part for me. Sweeping my tongue inside of her mouth, I claim her.

I am not sure how long the kiss lasts but it isn’t until some teenagers start whistling at us that I end the kiss, reluctantly.

“Um, I live just over there,” she says, pointing to a large condo building right behind us.

“Yeah? I will walk you home then.”

“You could come up for coffee or some cake I made earlier, or…”

“That sounds amazing.” I say taking her hand. She leads me this time. In the elevator, I kiss her again, slowly. Savoring her. The elevator opens onto the tenth floor and she exits. I follow her, watching her ass sway as she goes. God, please have mercy on my soul, she’s going to kill me. Her ass is lush and can’t wait to get my hands on it. She stops in front of her door and turns to face me, holding out her hand. I quirk an eyebrow.

“My bag? I need my keys.”

“Oh, right,” I say, chuckling. God, she’s got me all kinds of twisted up. I hand over the bag and she digs through it, eventually she kneels, dumping it out on the ground.

“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath.