"Mama, do you remember when I used to put two cherries on my ears and pretended they were earrings?"
"Of course. You were so happy every time I bought some. Then you'd put some on my ears and some on your dad's. He blushed every time."
Both of the women laughed as Bulma washed the cherries and put them in a glass bowl.
"You know, Trunks isn't home and Vegeta is probably going to spend most of the time on the GR training. How about we remember some good times? Call dad but don't tell him what for."
An evil smile made its way to Bulma's full lips.
"You are too wicked, Bulma. I'll call him right away!"
Both women laughed again as Bulma's mother made her way to the kitchen phone.
"Hi, honey. Can you come to the kitchen for a minute?"
"…"
"I know you are busy but you also need to take a break."
"…"
"I know I'm right."
Mrs. Briefs put the phone down and grabbed two cherries that where stuck by them stem.
"Here, honey."
Bulma grabbed the cherries and put them in her right ear. She turned her eyes to the glass bowl to look for more.
She found two more pairs of cherries in a few seconds and put them on her mother's ears.
Her father entered the kitchen scratching the back of his head and yawning.
"Papa! Look what mama bought!"
Her father looked at his wife and daughter with a smile on his face.
"It's been a while since you did that, Bulma. Aren't you a little too old?"
"No way. So what's got you so busy you didn't even have lunch with us? Can I help?"
"You should be helping. He's your husband."
"What did Vegeta do?"
"He transformed the training droids into a ball of molten metal."
Bulma got up and stormed to the GR ready to scream his head off.
Why the hell didn't he ask her? She had told him that her father was too tired. He almost had no ties to CC these days. He had put it all in her care. It was only by her request that he was a consultant. His job was to oversee the new technology being created, which was not much these days. She felt better with him around the company. But her idiot of a mate asked her father to fix his twenty droids. Which were, apparently, turned into a ball.
As soon as she approached the GR and noticed the gravity function was not working she almost kicked the door in.
The bastard was standing near the controls at the center of the room looking at her with a confused look on his face.
She stomped up to him and started her tirade.
"Didn't I ask you not to give work to my father? I told you I would take care of it!"
He stood there just looking at her and not uttering a word.
"Answer me!"
He extended his arm to her and pulled her flush against him. She gasped when his right hand touched her six month pregnant belly. He gave her a smile that made her knees tremble.
"Do you like cherries?"
Bulma's mind got blank every time Vegeta touched her swollen stomach but when he smiled at her like that too, the only thing her body seemed capable of doing was drooling.
His mouth descended to the top of her breasts, kissing her skin, his tongue touching her skin gently from time to time. He made his way up slowly until he reached her ear.
"I asked if you liked cherries, Bulma?"
His voice and breath so close to her ear made her shiver. Her libido knew no bounds when she was pregnant. Vegeta knew that. He abused it too. But why the hell was he talking about cherries?
She felt a gentle pull on her ear and he pulled his face away so she could look at him.
He was eating something. His bottom lip had some type of red liquid. His tongue came out to clean it. When her brain started working again she blushed scarlet. The earrings.
He smiled again and made his way to her ear to eat the last cherry. This time, when he pulled his head away, Bulma pressed her mouth against his.
As soon as Vegeta's mouth opened and she tasted him and the cherry combined a moan escaped her.
Her hands made their way to the back of his head as she tried to coax him into something more than kissing.
"Completely insatiable."
That was all he was able to utter before she resumed her assault on his mouth and started other assaults on some other parts of his body.
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