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Chapter 9
Cherry
Why did the sperm cross the road?
Because I put the wrong socks on this morning.
I stand outside the DNF bookstore, my arms wrapped around myself while I wait for my date to appear.
The sun is starting to set, causing a chill to skate over my skin from the shadows creeping across the sidewalk. I rub my arms, trying to get some warmth, but the satin dress does nothing to keep me warm.
A tall figure walks in my direction, making me perk up. Our phones both go off with a notification that we’ve arrived, indicating that we’ve found each other.
6’4 of deliciousness stops in front of me, making me look up at him. Tanned skin, chocolate brown eyes, short brown hair, and a tattoo of a lion, with its jaws wide open, decorate his neck, and he has muscles for days.
I want to lick him.
When his lips kick up in a smirk, I recognize him as the man from the store with the ice cream and the screaming woman.
“It’s you,” we both exclaim at the same time.
The sound of our laughter is the only noise on the now empty street except for Jim, who is probably stumbling his way home from Bradsters.
“I believe I didn’t get your name at the store,” I say with a smirk, eyeing up the hunk before me.
“Macon, and you are?”
“Cherry,” I say, holding my hand out for him to shake.
His large, veiny hand wraps around my smaller one, squeezing lightly.
My mind whirls with thoughts of his hand around my neck, squeezing just the right amount while he pounds his fat manhood into my core.
Macon leans forward, brushing his lips against my cheek. His hot breath fans against my ear. “I wonder if you taste as sweet.”
Before my brain can even formulate a response, another figure appears out of nowhere.
I have to resist the urge to rub my eyes because I’m pretty sure I’m seeing double.
“You’re not seeing double sweetness. He’s my twin,” Macon says, his hand still somehow wrapped around mine.
“So weird that our dates were arranged for the same place,” his carbon copy mutters, looking around for his date.
My phone dings again with the notification sound, but this time, the other one comes from Macon’s twin's pocket.
“No way,” I mutter, pulling my phone from my clutch and staring at the screen in horror.
There, in front of me, sits two notifications telling me I’ve found my perfect match.
This cannot be happening.
Macon’s twin swears under his breath as he looks at his phone; his eyes swing to mine, and he looks defeated.
“It must have been a mistake. I’ll leave you both to your date,” he mutters, already taking a step to leave.
“Wait!” I call out.
“Jacob, wait,” Macon says at the same time.
