Hot Mess Love by Aria Hawthorne

Author:Aria Hawthorne [Hawthorne, Aria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780996836487
Publisher: French Kiss Press LLC
Published: 2019-10-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Conchita

Sitting there at the kitchen table, I’m preparing dozens of baklava desserts by brushing sheets of phyllo dough with hot melted butter. It’s supposed to be enjoyable and relaxing, but the truth is: all I can think about is Christopher’s warm, dripping tongue running in and out of every unmentionable part of my body.

“You’re daydreaming about a guy, aren’t you?”

My sister, Alma, stares at me, noticing how I’m excessively basting the raw pastry dough. I’ve barely completed three of them in the past fifteen minutes, and I have dozens more to go.

“When am I not thinking about a guy?” I toss back, annoyed she’s interrupting my private fantasy of butterlingus.

“True, except that you’ve been buttering that sheet of phyllo dough for the past five minutes. And at this rate, we’ll be old grandmas by the time we’re ready to serve this baklava to your party guests.”

“That would be a shame, considering my sexy belly-dancer’s costume looks way better on me now than when I’m an old grandma in thirty years.”

“A belly-dancer’s costume, really? But isn’t this for a corporate party in Harvey’s building?” Alma shifts her attention to Marisol in her high chair and sprinkles a few Cheerios onto her tray. I’ve never seen a child so happy to discover the joy of her own fingers, but ironically, so unsuccessful in her ability to actually use them.

“Not exactly corporate,” I correct her. “It’s more like a Turkish-themed lingerie sex gala. Hence, the baklava. Turkish and an aphrodisiac.”

“I should have known.” Alma rolls her eyes and nudges up her red glasses with her honey-glazed fingers. “Only you and Harvey could come up with something deviant like that. So I assume this new guy of yours, the one you can’t stop dreaming about—Mr. Butterfingers—is going to be at this lingerie sex gala?”

I fumble the basting brush and it lands directly in my lap with a messy glop. We both glance down at the huge butter stain between my legs.

“I wish,” I lament, realizing it’s only been one day since I said goodbye to Christopher—and the-most-magnificent-sexcapade-of-my-life. It’s already starting to feel more like a distant fantasy rather than yesterday’s reality. “But he’s thousands of miles away and I have no idea when I’m going to see him again.”

“Hmm…that doesn’t sound like you. Normally, you lose interest in a guy if there’s no chance for sex in the next twenty-four hours.”

“I know, right?” I whine, grateful to have a sister who knows everything about me, especially the ridiculous parts. “But with him, it’s the complete opposite. I can’t get him out of my head and none of the vibrators in my pleasure chest have given me any relief.”

Alma covers Marisol’s baby ears. “Not even the Jumbotron?”

I shake my head.

“Or the Wallbanger?”

“Nope.”

“The Rough Rider?”

“Nada.”

“Boy, that’s really hard to believe. The Rough Rider got me through an entire year of being divorced from Harvey.”

“Yeah, no need to remind me. I remember hearing all about it, which is exactly why I was so determined to get you two back together.

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