Slave to the Sausage
“Broadshaft Brothers Pizza! What can I bring you to put in your mouth?” Emily Justasalad couldn't tell which brother it was, but it didn't matter. Each was more hunky than the last.
“I’ll have… I’ll have…” she squeaked, not able to get her order out.
“Little lady, you sound undecided.” The deep, male voice held a note of concern. “Let me help. I’m guessing you want our sausage—most of the ladies do, and even a lot of the men! Broadshaft sausage really is something special. And now we’re even serving grilled sausage sandwiches just to give you another excuse to swallow our meat more than once a day. Do you crave our meat that often, honey?”
“God yes!” Emily squealed and dropped the phone. Did they even understand how dirty everything they said sounded? Surely their innuendos alone were breaking some sort of health law. She scrambled for the receiver. Taking a deep breath and straightening her back, she pressed the phone back to her ear and whispered, “I’ll just have a salad.”
“No can do, sugar pie! We don’t serve salad here, but we do have something we call a Veggie Nibble Pizzette. It’s an extra-small pizza with no meat and lots of vegetables. The cheese is low-fat, the sauce is low-sugar, and it comes with a to-do list and a free subscription to Responsibility Rocks! (A Reasonable Amount) magazine. Do you want me to put you down for one of those?”
Did she detect pity in his voice?“ That sounds…practical,” she muttered. “I’ll take one.”
“Yes ma’am! And we’re running a special on our new breakfast sausage links. Buy one package, get one free! Now you can have two Broadshaft Brothers sausages in your mouth before you even start your day!”
“Wow.” She giggled. “Breakfast sausage too? You just can’t keep you Broadshaft boys down.”
“We aim to please.”
Emily sighed. “No breakfast links for me. Just bring the Veggie Nibble.”
Twenty-five minutes later her doorbell rang, startling her out of her naughty fantasies that teetered back and forth between decadent feasts of roast beef and rack of lamb, and sexy thoughts of offering to clean the five Broadshaft Brothers’ bachelor pad. Topless. To be paid in orgasms.
She jumped at the ding-dong, spilling the glass of ice water she was drinking down her thin, white dress. Dammit! Pulling off her dress as she went, she ran to her closet to change. She didn't want the man to think she was holding her own personal wet T-shirt contest. But her hands got tangled in the shoulder straps of the frock and she tripped, careening into a wall she’d painted earlier, covering her bra and panties in red paint.
“Gah!” she screamed. “The odds of both those things happening and rendering me naked right before I open the door to the studly pizza guy are absurdly high!” she whined to no one. With no time to ponder the implausibility of what just happened, Emily ripped off her undergarments as the doorbell rang again. “Don’t leave!” she yelled. “I need that pizza!”
She grabbed a short robe, noting with wonder as she zipped past her full-length mirror that somehow she’d managed not to get paint on her bare skin. She wrestled the robe around her naked body and jerked the tie into a knot just as she slid open her deadbolt.
The sight and smell that struck her senses when she opened the door nearly made her orgasm. There stood Derek, the youngest Broadshaft Brother, stuffed like a sausage into tight jeans and a somehow even tighter tank top, looking like a Chippendales dancer four stanzas from twirling his cock in her face like a helicopter.
And if that vision wasn't enough to overwhelm her defenses, in his hands was a humongous pizza box, and the smell wafting from it was deadly. Deadly for Derek that is, if she gave in and tackled him off her stairs to get at whatever decadent pizza he’d dared bring to her door like a sacrificial offering to a goddess.
She grabbed Derek’s shoulders with the kind of superhuman strength that only appeared in situations of extreme duress and hauled him inside, slamming him up against the wall. “What is this?” she snarled in a voice so hungry it sounded demonic.
“It’s an extra-large, extra, extra sausage pizza!” he stammered.
“I ordered the Veggie Nibble Pizzette,” she growled, ripping the box from his hands and stalking to the kitchen.
“I’m—I’m sorry!” He followed after her. “I must have gotten your order mixed up.” He slapped his forehead. “I’ll take it back.”
But Emily had already lifted the lid and glimpsed the meat and cheese. The smell, muted before by the cardboard, now hit her full force. Her knees went weak at the heady aroma of sausage grease, mozzarella cheese and tomato sauce.
Piper Trace Bio:
I tried to write mainstream fiction, but my characters kept getting naked and using naughty words. Really naughty words. These lusty characters were so much damn fun to hang out with that I just gave up trying to control them.
I discovered early on that I hated to be stereotyped, and since then I've been rebelling against everything nice, smart girls are supposed to do. I was a high-school harlot and valedictorian; I worked in a strip club while attending a top college on an honors scholarship; I was a roller-derby queen and a mom; and finally, I'm a lawyer by day and a professional author of sizzling erotic romance by night.
I feel comfortable with one foot in the trailer and one in the boardroom. I want woman to be as proud of their boobs as they are their brains. Boobs and brains...in that magical combination lies the power to rule the world.
I would love to tell you all about my writing accolades, but I'm pretty sure that, like me, you're a reader who flipped through your mom's paperback romances for the words "breasts" or "throbbing" so you could just read the good stuff. Well you found it.
So pour yourself a beer or a glass of wine (I love all kinds) and sit back. We're gonna have some fun.
Come When Called, a MMF menage with light BDSM elements. As soon as Ellora's Cave can pry it out of my hands long enough to edit it!
Follow me on Twitter or friend me on Facebook for random filthy and funny thoughts!! Twitter: @PiperTrace Facebook: www.facebook.com/PiperTrace
www.pipertrace.com (where I also do naughty crafts and DIY projects)