Date With Death (Welcome To Hell) Read Free Page B

so I can serve you the best pasta you ever ate.”
    Mick, still unfortunately clothed, and with his jaw tight, sat and Marigold spooned out two large bowls of past a— rotini noodles covered in a white sauce with sautéed chunks of chicken, green pepper, red onion, and diced tomatoes. She also slid a platter of cheesy bread on the table, a French baguette sliced lengthwise and toasted with garlic butter then dribbled with melted cheese. Mmmm...
    Mick picked up a fork to dig in then stopped and looked at the food dubiously. “ Did you poison it?”
    “Why would I do that?” she asked , taking a big mouthful and closing her eyes in pleasure as the flavor hit her taste buds. “You work for Death, so I can only assume that it might be kind of difficult to kill you. Besides, it would be a waste of good food.” She took a crunchy bite of the gooey bread and groaned in bliss.
     
    *
     
    No woman should ever look so decadent eating.
    Mic tain stared at Marigold, who sat with her eyes closed as she chewed and made happy noises. His cock hardened at the rapturous look on her face and he wondered if that was how she’d appear on her knees sucking his cock. Shocked at the direction of his thoughts, even if they sounded fun, he shoveled a forkful of pasta into his mouth and almost groaned in pleasure himself.
    Damn, she can cook. As single male, and a god, food wasn’t high on his list of priorities. He often ate out, or made do with quick and simple meals at home. It didn’t compare to a home cooked repast.
    He forwent speaking for eating, unable to stop himself from enjoying the food. The silence wasn’t stilted, though, even if it was kind of noisy with the sounds of chewing and the occasional moan of bliss. Their eyes struck up a flirtatious conversation. She eyed him saucily. He regarded her boldly. She winked. He winked back.
    It was the most fun he’d ever had on a date , even if this wasn’t a real date, and yet not a word was spoken.
    Unfortunately, the food eventually dwindled until there was just a spattering of sauce in the bottom of his bowl that he looked at longingly, wishing he had more bread.
    She had a solution. She ran her finger along the bottom of her bowl and then licked it, a sensuous flick of her tongue along the length of her digit that made him harder than a rock.
    He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak , but lost his train of thought when she licked her succulent, pink lips.
    “ Cat got your tongue?” she teased.
    “That was delicious,” he finally managed to say.
    “You’re welcome.”
    “Do you eat like this all the time?”
    “Unfortunately. Can’t you tell?” She peeked down ruefully at her hips and thighs.
    “Your shape is perfect.” He blurted the compliment without thinking, and she shot him a startled gaze. A pleased smile curved her delectable lips.
    “Thank you. I take it you don’t cook?”
    “Not outside the bedroom.” Flirting with an ease he didn’t know himself capable of, he wondered what it was about her that made him act so uncharacteristically.
    Rising from her seat, Marigold cleared the table, shooing his attempts to help her. “Sit down. Relax.”
    Relax? With the hard -on of the century? Thankfully, he sat tucked under the table, thus hiding the evidence of his attraction. It didn’t take her long to rinse the dishes and return with a fresh bottle of wine. She slid back into the seat across from him. “Now that I’ve fed you, I think I deserve a boon,” she announced.
    Mictain stiffened , and not between the legs this time. “If you are going to ask me to intervene in your death, forget it. That’s not up to me.”
    “Oh, please. Give me a little credit. You were just doing your job. If I want to petition my demise, I’ll do so with the big man himself.”
    “If you’re not looking for an intervention then what do you want from me?” Say my cock and I’ll strip right now. He’d also donate his tongue, or any other body part she