Page 5 of Midnight Kisses (Spicy Fat Cinderella Retelling)

MILES

Dazed, she slumped back on the chaise, resplendent in her pleasure.

I felt like a king.

Licking my lips I told her, “You taste like every fantasy I’ve ever had.”

She mumbled something incoherent and I grinned harder. My dick was verging on a medical emergency it was so stiff, but it was worth it to feel her fall apart under my mouth like that and see her so satisfied now.

Some of my smug satisfaction fled when it occurred to me I was going to have to pull damp pants over this vicious erection to leave the bathroom.

As I was contemplating this, she sat bolt upright. “It’s midnight!”

It was a second before I replied, because I was watching her tits sway. “Either that, or someone fucked up and let the fireworks off early.”

Instead of laughing like she was supposed to, she groaned, scrambling under the chaise for her lost shoe. She jammed it back on her foot and did up the strap as she moaned, “I’m late. I’m never late. Tala is going to kill me.”

“What’s a Tala?”

“In Samoan it means tale. Like, story. It’s also my roommate’s name, she’s waiting for me.”

“What do you mean she’s waiting for you?” This conversation had taken the kind of turn that was weird to be without pants for. With a cursing under my breath, I scooped the fucked up fabric off the floor and started pulling them on. “I’ll give you a ride home. I can call a car.”

“I have my car.”

“Should I follow you?” I hadn’t driven here tonight because I’d expected to be far deeper in whiskey than I was presently, but someone at my Elysian Wines table would have a car and I’d make them give me their keys.

Pants on, I looked up to blondie’s frown. “You know, to make sure you get home safely.”

And to come in for a little nightcap, after which she could say more filthy shit to me, because that got my dick harder than anything else on this planet.

“No, thank you.” She turned away to fix her dress and hair in the mirror.

I stood in stunned silence.

I was Miles Fucking Lawrence. Rose would have sold her grandma for an offer like this. Plus, I’d just shown this woman that I didn’t rest on the laurels of my family name or earning potential when it came to sex acts. I was good at eating pussy. Hadn’t I just shown her I was good at eating pussy?

But this girl was busy stuffing the bottle of stain remover back in her toolbox. She turned to me with a polite, impersonal smile, the same one she’d given me when I first walked in here.

I hated it.

“I’m sorry, but I really do have to go. This was a lovely—albeit unexpected—encounter, but I don’t have time for men right now.”

“You had time to come on my tongue?—”

The fake smile fell. “That was your idea. I don’t owe you reciprocation.”

She scooped blue bottles off the vanity and packed them into her toolbox, barely sparing me a glance.

It was completely fucking flummoxing.

“I didn’t say you did.” I’d hoped but I didn’t say . “ I just think you should tell me your name and give me your number before you rip out of here like a blonde bat out of hell.”

She smiled her professional smile again. “No, thank you. I’m focused on building my business and you would be a distraction.”

“The fucking balls on you!” I spluttered. “I didn’t say we should get married. I just thought this—” I waved at the chaise, “—was nice, and that we could go another round before parting ways.”

She fastened her toolbox with a firm click. “It was lovely to meet you…” she trailed off in realisation she didn’t know my name.

“Miles,” I said shortly. “Miles Lawrence. And who the fuck are you?”

Instead of answering, she tucked her toolbox under her arm and unlocked the door. On the other side a line of pissed off women had formed.

She waved. “Bye, Miles.”

PERRY

Pulse still hammering, the drive home was a blur. Usually, Tala would have noticed my preoccupation, but she remained silent the whole trip. I didn’t tell her what I’d done in the bathroom. I wasn’t ready to share and she was absorbed in her phone.

My body was zinging with adrenaline and I felt like I could deadlift stratovolcanoes.

Turns out good sex and exhilarating banter could do that to a person.

When we got home, I took a shower then forced myself to meditate to focus my boundless energy into something useful before pulling out my laptop and making a reverse to-do list.

I was fired up and ready to make moves.

The past 24 hours had contained the lowest lows and the highest highs. As a result, a bulletproof kind of confidence was coursing through me, mixed with a spite-fuelled determination.

If I could trust a stranger with my body, why couldn’t I trust myself with my dreams?

Turns out an orgasm, plus meditation, plus a hot shower was the perfect prep for this kind of work, because the ideas flowed freely and a new business strategy took shape quickly.

I started with where I wanted to be: the owner of an NZ skin empire which helped everyone have a good skin day .

Then I wrote the step below that: to get my products in department stores and boutique retailer s.

And below that: a manufacturer who could do scale .

Then: thriving ecommerce . And at the very bottom of the list, making it the thing I had to start with, I wrote: find an investor .

Getting certification and going through (cruelty-free) lab testing had taken years and cost a mint.

It had cost a second mint to secure my trademarks.

and I’d spent every cent I’d ever made from modelling to get to this point, and quite a few borrowed cents too.

Now, I was stalled because I couldn’t afford to manufacture any more product.

The leftover sample stock I had in my room was fast dwindling.

I needed to find someone with money who believed in the product and would stand back and let me do things my way.

Sitting on my bed, chewing on the end of a marker pen, I remembered when I was twenty and had told my dad that I wanted to turn the potions I made for my friends in my bedroom into a real skincare business.

He’d nodded thoughtfully, but his expression had been sombre. ‘ People who can afford to invest do so in their friends and sure things. If you can’t be a friend, be a sure thing.’

I had a lot of good contacts through modelling; makeup artists who used my products and set designers who would throw a bottle in the background of a shoot.

Currently, Perry Skin was a cult fave for those in-the-know.

It was a good position to be in—exclusive and high-end.

But my goal was to be accessible to everyone, and for that I would need an investor.

I knew I was a sure thing, and if I had access to some moneybags people I could convince them of that too.

People like the guests at tonight’s party who’d been networking and making deals while I climaxed in the bathroom.

My eyes fell to the building access card Ginger had given me, sitting on my vanity.

When the clock struck midnight tonight, I’d been so stressed to be late to meet Tala, I’d left without looking for Ginger to return my swipe card.

With the beginnings of a daring plan forming, I pulled up the Sky Tower events calendar, available on their website.

Going forward, I wouldn’t be diverted from my dreams.

No matter how talented the tongue.