Page 188 of The Reason I Married Him
“They don’t call me the plot king for nothing.”
“Do people really call you that?” I ask.
“No,” he says sadly. “But I’m hoping it might catch on. Think you can jump on my socials and comment as a loving reader and start calling me the plot king? See if the word spreads?”
“That wasn’t part of the initial deal. You’ll have to pay extra for that.”
“Not a problem . . . do you take tongues to the clit as payment?”
“Jesus Christ, Wyatt.”
He chuckles and squeezes me even tighter. I try not to sink into his warm hold, but my body betrays me, and I slip into the ease of his personality.
“I can seewhy you love this so much,” Wyatt says as I remain on his lap while he feeds both of us.
If I were someone watching us, I’d think to myself—get a freaking room! Can’t they keep their hands off each other for one second? There’s a perfectly good chair on the other side of the table, use it.
But that must be the skeptic in me because all we’ve received are smiles, cooings of appreciation, and even a pat on the back from Hank after he hand-delivered our meals.
Wyatt has really won over this town, and that’s something to marvel at. My family has been here forever, and I wouldn’t say everyone in town agrees with us, but Wyatt is winning over every person.
“Glad we have this for our wedding. I was going in blind with your food choice, putting all my faith on your taste buds, and it looks like I can trust them.”
“You better,” I say as I wipe my mouth with my napkin. “I’ve had your dick on my taste buds.”
He snorts so hard that he has to pick up my napkin and dab his nose.
“Fuck,” he mutters as he finishes cleaning up. “Mac and cheese is now lodged in my nasal cavity.”
“You’re not the only one who can be crude,” I say, pleased with myself.
“Apparently,” he says on a light chuckle before taking a sip of his water. “And you’re right, if you allow the sweet taste ofmy dick on your tongue, then I should trust any food choice of yours.”
“Sweet, huh?” I ask. “More like salty.”
“Uh, doubtful,” he says in a scoff. “I eat at least three pounds of pineapple a week. My dick offers mouthwatering nectar for anyone who comes eye to eye with it.”
“A great example of a man thinking he’s doing the world a service by producing cum for anyone interested.”
“Not just anyone, babe. You, great-tasting cum for you.”
“I honestly can’t with this conversation.”
He chuckles and wraps both of his arms around my waist while placing a gentle kiss on my neck that sends shivers all the way down to my toes. “You started it.”
“No, any unnecessary and filthy talk is always started by you. I was just trying to give you a taste of your own medicine.”
“Well, keep it coming—see what I did there—because I love when you talk about my dick on your tongue.”
I shake my head and then lean back into him. “Are we going to discuss the farm at all? Or are we just going to talk about fellatio this entire meal?”
“Ooo, fellatio, great word. I mean, I’m all for that topic, but I can sense that you’re wanting to move on, so yes, let’s talk about the farm.”
“So what do you think is going on?” I ask. “What am I not seeing?”
Growing slightly serious, he scrolls through the spreadsheet that he’s been looking through while we’ve been eating and he says, “I see what you mean about the numbers seeming less, but the units sold are higher. There is something off. Have you spoken to Hattie about what she’s selling the almond extract at?”
“No, I can see it on my end. It’s the regular price.”
