Page 29 of Tied up in Knots (Gummy Bear Orgy #4)
I shake my head to clear it of the dirty thoughts growing there.
I can’t make a move on her till I know she wants it.
Thankfully she doesn’t notice my lude staring at her tits which have grown since the last time I saw her naked.
I bet they’re extra sensitive now too. I can just imagine her moans as I suck on them an d _ NO.
Stop thinking about fucking Bambi and get back on task.
“What would you like me to make you Bambi?” My voice comes out husky and deep, but she doesn’t seem to notice, only the food in front of her is important now.
She peruses her options and nibbles on her lips before answering. “Omelet and chocolate chip pancakes.”
“That seems pretty normal for you.”
“I haven’t told you what kind of omelet yet.” Her eyes twinkle with mirth and her smile is infectious. I want to make her smile like that forever.
“Okay then, hit me with it. What kind of omelet am I making?”
“A spam and skittles omelet.”
I can’t stop the bark of laughter that booms from my chest. I should have known better. Her cravings are the weirdest things I’ve ever heard of a person eating.
“And I would like the omelet on top of the pancake please,” she adds.
“Of course. Why would you eat it any other way?”
“I wouldn’t, it’s the only way to eat a spam and skittles omelet.”
Circling the kitchen island, I can’t keep the massive smile from my lips as I get to work picking out all the ingredients needed to make her ridiculous breakfast. Eggs, pancake mix, chocolate chips, butter.
I didn’t buy spam or skittles but apparently those are things she already had in her pantry.
Bambi sets the two ingredients down next to the eggs and starts fiddling with the spam can.
“Whoa there, what do you think you’re doing?” I pluck the can from her hands and hold it out of her reach.
“Making breakfast for dinner?”
“No, you’re not. I am making you breakfast for dinner. You are sitting your cute ass down and watching.”
Setting down the spam can, I direct Bambi by her shoulders to the stool on the opposite side of the counter and I don’t release her till she’s comfortably perched on the cushioned stool. She doesn’t argue and just grins at me as she props her chin on her hands.
I return to the other side of the island and pry open the can of spam I just relinquished from Bambi.
“Ooh can I have pickles while I wait?”
I kind of like that she asked me instead of getting them herself. Now she’s learning. I pull the three pickle jars from the bag on the counter and line them up in front of her.
“Which one would you like?”
“How did you know I would want pickles?” She cocks her head to one side playfully and her ponytail swooshes behind her, falling over one shoulder. It’s gotten longer in the past six months, and I don’t think she’s cut it at all.
“You’ve basically been eating them nonstop.” I casually shrug one shoulder. “Figured it was a safe choice if everything else flopped.”
“Mmmm,” she hums as she pulls the jar of bread and butter pickles in front of her.
Her small hands barely fit around the lid and before she even begins to struggle to open it I pluck it from her hands and twist the top off, unceremoniously setting the open jar back in front of her.
One flavored spear disappears in three large bites as she once again hums with pleasure.
She watches me moving around in her kitchen while munching on her pickles.
I’ve been in this kitchen so many times I know it almost as well as my boat.
I’m in the middle of cracking eggs into a mixing bowl when Bambi’s loud exclamation almost causes me to drop an egg on the floor.
“Wait! How did you get into my apartment? I swear I locked all the doors downstairs.”
Kind of surprised it took her this long to realize. I keep cracking eggs and slicing spam, my gaze focused on the food in front of me.
“A key of course.”
“What key?”
“My key.”
I can feel her narrowed gaze and glower trying to burn a hole in my forehead, but I don’t look up. It’ll only make me laugh and I’m already having a difficult time keeping it contained.
“I didn’t give you a new key,” she says slowly, carefully. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
“No you didn’t.”
“Then how did you get one?”
“I had it made.”
“When?” Her voice is almost shrill at the one-word demand.
“The other day. I wanted to make sure I could get to you in an emergency.” Her face softens as I look up at her, pausing my preparation.
“I had a dream that you went into labor locked inside your apartment and no one could get in to help you. I wanted to make sure if that happened, I could get to you.”
Her expression softens even more, going from righteous indignation to grateful appreciation.
“I guess that’s okay then.”
“I promise I won’t use it if you don’t want me to, but I’m not giving it back.”
A small smile quirks the corner of her lips that makes me want to kiss her. Would she mind? I don’t think she would, maybe I’ll try later, after I’ve made her weird omelet.