Why was I suddenly thinking I was going to quit? It was a great job that played to my strengths and offered exceptional pay.
Thomas was here but I could see him on the weekends. He could hire more staff and be sure to be free on the weekends when I came back.
Before the words were fully thought out, I realized how badly it all sounded. How cruel and selfish. How much like the old me it was.
Because I knew without a doubt that Thomas would do that. He’d move his whole schedule around, sleep at noon and wake up at midnight if it meant I was happy.
Would I be happy? I nuzzled his chest as if I could find the answers there. No such luck. But I did feel better.
Maybe if I keep searching…
10
Thomas
We stayed there a while, enjoying the early morning calm.
I could get used to this.
There was a serenity to it that my morning was sorely lacking. For years now, I woke up an hour or two before the bakery opened and headed down to prepare. With Sam’s help, I had time to focus on the aspect of the business I loved. Baking.
It almost felt like cheating.
The arrangement wasn’t perfect. Even if Sam did work out well and worked full-time, that still left two full days that I wouldn’t have her help. Not to mention the latter part of the day and closing was still on me.
In the meantime, I still had to do all the baking and prepping in the back. Originally I was worried that I’d be too self-conscious to deal with the surge of new guests.
After a few initial awkward encounters, I found that it didn’t bother me so much. I really hit my stride and while I wouldn’t necessarily miss taking orders and typical cashier duties, what I did miss was having the chance to talk to the people coming in to my shop.
It was like inviting somebody into my home.
I continued to stroke Claire’s hair. She had something on her mind and while I believed it was nothing for me to worry over, I still wanted to soothe her. Apparently, it worked very well. After a few moments, I realized that she’d fallen asleep in my lap. Her head pillowed against my chest. With a free hand I grabbed the throw blanket I kept on the couch just for moments like this and draped it over us.
My thoughts turned back to the shop and how best to manage my newfound freedom. Like a workaholic, I couldn’t let it go to waste enjoying my life more.
I wanted to build something special. It didn’t need to be some big mega-corporation that had chains in all the major cities but I wanted to be successful. Who didn’t?
The next several minutes were spent inching towards the far edge of the couch, careful not to disturb my sleeping princess. When I got there I reached into the side table and pulled out the notebook and pen stashed there.
I drew out concepts, ideas, and plans for the next few months. If things kept as they were, or even slowed down a little I could probably afford to do a little renovating in the shop. Just enough to add another counter segment and a barista station.
Naturally, that meant I’d need to learn how to be a barista. I doubted there were any in a town this size. We didn’t even have a Starbucks. There was McDonald's just outside of downtown but it wasn’t the same.
I wanted a very specific vibe.
So I did what I did when I wanted to learn to bake and cook. I read and researched until eventually, Claire stirred against me. She looked confused at first, and utterly adorable rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Did I fall asleep?”
I put my phone down, making a mental note to look up a conical burr grinder for professional kitchens when I got a moment. “You did, it looks like I’m not the only one burning myself out.”
She shrugged off the blanket. There was something entrancing about the way the light cloth ran down her body like water. It clung to every curve and I could feel myself hardening at the spectacle.
So could Claire. She grinned and reached down to confirm her sleepy suspicion. “Has this been waiting for me all this time?” she asked coyly.
“I’m always waiting for you.”
A small flicker of…something. Pain? Guilt? I wasn’t sure. It was there and gone in an instant and I honestly wasn’t in the best frame of mind with her deft little hand massaging my cock to full hardness to pay the closest attention. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” she said resting her head against my shoulder.
I strained against the prison of my pants but when I reached down to free myself her other hand playfully slapped mine away.
“Says the woman…of my dreams…as she touches me,” I countered. The breath hitching in my chest.
“Well, it was such a nice surprise to wake up to, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I let this-“ She reached into my pants and wrapped her fist around my cock and squeezed with all her might, sending a quake of pleasure through me. “-go to waste?”
Claire straddled me, undoing my pants and lifting my cock free, but I wasn’t about to let her have all the fun. I trailed my hands up her thighs. Like most mornings now - I still couldn’t believe I was so lucky to wake up next to this woman - she wore nothing under my oversized sweater.
It only made it easier for me to reach up and tease her, trailing my fingertips across her already wet lips. She froze. Her whole body shivered with desire.
Claire stared into my eyes. I could lose myself forever in the brilliance of those green gems. They dazzled me and I was helpless before them.
Her free hand reached out and around the back of my neck. I could see the warring emotion on her face and for a moment she looked like she was going to sit on top of me, but she shook her head and leaned in instead.
She stole my breath away with that kiss.
Her tongue swirled against my lips and I parted them, mingling our tongues together, gently guiding my fingers inside her.
We were inches apart but somehow this was hotter than sex.
There was an intimacy here. We were close but not at the same time. It made a thrilling contrast. I could feel the heat of her pussy, and sometimes she tilted her hips that she was close enough to kiss the crown of my cock as I played with her clit.
I was hungry to explore her, to feel everything she had to offer and more. I grabbed her ass with my spare hand and she pumped me with a tenderness I never felt before. It was both sensual and sweet.
This was so much more than simple sex. We’d long ago gone past sex to something more. I understood then why they called it lovemaking.
I worked her clit with my thumb, running over it in smooth circles the way she liked as I fingered her with my index and middle, sliding them against the sensitive spot deep inside her.
The fiercer I went, the harder she pumped. When she pulled away from my shoulder and looked me in the eyes I saw a fire in her glittering eyes. A devilish smile on her face that told me this was a game she was determined to win.
For the first time in my life, this was a race I didn’t want to win.
But I couldn’t unsee what she was doing to me, the way her hips bucked against my hand. The soft quivering moans that escaped from our lips, mingling in the air between us.
She must have felt it too, the balance shifting in her favor. Claire threw back her head with wild abandon and rather than gloat with the victory that was quickly becoming hers, she thrust and rode my fingers with brutal force.
I was already in the throes of coming. Every muscle in my body tightened. The tension released in a surge of emotion and pleasure that swept me away. I was barely aware of her moaning my name, of doing the same, and then she was collapsed against me.
My fingers were still inside her quivering pussy. Her hand wrapped firmly around my cock.
“God, I love you so much.” The words were out before I realized who said them.
She didn’t even look up at me but I heard her clearly through her panting breath. “Not as much as I love you.” Only then did she lift her gaze and gave me a lewd wink.
I leaned forward and kiss
ed her tenderly, rained my lips down on her face and neck. There was nobody else for me. This woman was everything I ever dreamed of and I wanted nothing more than this every day. I wanted to do great things so I would deserve her.
She made me want to be the best version of myself.
11
Claire
That was the sexiest wake up I’ve ever had.
I don’t know what came over me. Usually, I wasn’t quite so forward with Thomas. With anybody, really. I was a naturally reserved girl but Thomas was pulling me out of my shell.
There was something intoxicating about being true to myself with him. I thought I had been shy and introverted but I realized they were just ways of protecting myself against hurt.
I wanted to be safe and secure so badly I built walls all around my heart and managed to convince myself that I liked it there.
Sure I was still introverted. I preferred my time to be my own but now I considered Thomas part of that. Part of me. I wanted all of my time spent with him.
Which, if the last couple of weeks is any judge that was having wild amounts of sex on just about every surface in the apartment.
I looked at myself in the mirror of the bathroom, straightened my hair a little and came out dressed and ready for the day. Though all I wanted to do was curl up with Thomas and read a good book by a crackling fireplace.
Typical nerdy girl fantasy.
That didn’t stop me from wanting it though. I knew Thomas loved to read too, that had been one of the first things we had connected over. When one of those dorky scholastic book fairs came to our elementary school.
He’d grabbed the last Wizard of Earthsea book on the shelf a fraction of a second before I almost did. I was still angry back then. My mom had just left us and our family was a wreck. I must’ve been about six or seven.
I don’t remember precisely what I said, but it hadn’t been very kind. As I said, I was angry.
Jemma was starting kindergarten, she barely even remembered Mom or what happened.
Good for her.
Sunrise Valley’s library wasn’t what you’d call robust. It was mostly musty old tomes, donated encyclopedias and books most people - especially kids with a deep need for escapism - didn’t want to read.
So it came as a huge shock to me when not more than a week later Thomas walked past my desk. I had said something mean to him, again. I don’t remember what thankfully but I still felt the shame of it even now.
He didn’t respond in any way other than a small boy’s smile. Then he set the book down on my desk. The same one he’d sniped from me at the book fair.
Not another word, no note written in the cover. Nothing. Just a small act of kindness from a boy who had seen too much anger and known too much cruelness in the world at such a young age.
It took me a while to get over myself but when I did I found Thomas on his own at recess and because I was an awkward girl I gave him a book of my own as thanks. We didn’t talk for weeks after, just traded books back and forth without a word.
At the time I didn’t realize how much it meant to me. Or how big of an action this was for Thomas, who barely had ten books to his name and most of them were birthday or Christmas gifts.
He had so little and yet shared everything he had with me. If only all people could be like that. The world would be such a better place.
Thomas had long since gone off to work. We’d cuddled for a little longer, had some more coffee that neither of us could ever really get enough of and a snack of strawberry chocolate éclairs.
He’d wanted me to try one before he gave them to Jemma, just in case I thought she wouldn’t like them.
As if anything he made wouldn’t taste like he felt inside me.
If I wasn’t careful I was going to develop a fetish for his food. I was already unearthing desires and hungers deep inside me that I had never known were there in all the twenty-seven years of my life.
I don’t know if I was ready for another.
My phone buzzed and trilled at me for attention on the coffee table. I crossed to it in five quick strides and answered. It was Jemma. “Hi, Jemma, what’s up?”
“I need somebody to talk to, do you have a sec?” She sounded hoarse. Like she’d been crying.
“I’ll come right over, just wait right there.”
“No, please. Let me come over instead.”
She must have literally been outside my door because no sooner than she hung up did I hear a knock at the door.
Wondering if it was boy troubles that were bothering her I was halfway to the door before I realized Thomas and I had left our mark on the couch and the blanket that he kept there.
With a furious blush, I rushed away from the door, threw the blanket into the dirty hamper and with a little embarrassment for the crassness of it all I flipped the couch cushion upside down and hoped against hope that I could keep Jemma in the kitchen.
The entire living room was filled with the heady aroma of our lovemaking, and while it was very inappropriately turning me on more than I ever thought it would, I didn’t think my sister would appreciate it.
I knew I wouldn’t if the situation was reversed.
I took another moment to open the windows on the far wall near the couch where it happened, hoping some crisp October air would clear it all up.
When I finally answered the door I was breathless and must have looked like I felt because Jemma gave me one look and said, “You just come back from one of your runs?”
Yeah, you could say that.
If somebody gives you the perfect cover, you go with it and thank the stars for your luck. “Yeah, come in and sit down. I’ll put on some coffee.”
Shutting the door behind her I carefully guided her to the kitchen table. Under the frosted globe of light that hung above the polished oak table, I could see Jemma clearly for the first time.
Red rimmed eyes, puffy nose, flushed cheeks. My heart ached for her.
“Make yourself comfortable.” I went into the kitchen and did as Thomas had shown me. Put the french press on the scale, zeroed it out and measured the coffee grounds by weight. Turned on the electric gooseneck kettle and while I waited for the water to boil I got out a plate of those éclairs.
“Thomas made these, he thought you might like one, wanna try?” I lifted the plate so she could see it in all its beauty. There were slices of fresh strawberries sticking out of a cream-filled middle.
I had no idea how he got them in there, I couldn’t find a cut where he could slip them in and they didn’t look baked in. A few gorgeous cross-cut pieces were laid into the chocolate frosting on top as well.
By the time I went around gathering a few other treats to put on the plates, the kettle had reached a boil. I dropped off the plates at the table and went back to pour the water into the press.
This was going to be a heavy conversation, I could tell. A quintessential sisterly bonding moment where the little sister comes to the elder, experienced sister for advice and a good shoulder to cry on.
Not that it was very true. I was pretty sure - though I’d never say it aloud - that Jemma had more romantic partners in high school than I’ve had all my life.
I could count the number of guys I had dated on both hands. I doubt Jemma could say the same, not that I minded, but I definitely wasn’t what you’d call experienced in that category.
In the end, it didn’t matter. What did matter was that she felt comfortable enough to come to me for help. It was something she never would have done before.
Such a momentous occasion called for lots of chocolate, sugar, some coffee and maybe if it got really heavy, some wine. We’ll see where it goes. It was a situation I wasn’t at all comfortable or knowledgeable about.
Jemma and I had only recently rekindled our friendship, let alone our sisterly bond, and maybe I was a bit over-eager to have a moment with her.
I’d missed so many throughout our lives.
With the coffee “blooming” as Thomas put it, I s
et the digital timer on the scale and kept an eye on it while I got out two mugs. “Is everything okay?” I asked when I turned my back to her and the dining room.
“Mom stopped by.”
Three words that I never thought I’d hear in all of my life.
My world froze and the mugs slipped from my numb fingers. The shattering of ceramic on the tiled floor jolted me from my stupor and I let out a decidedly unladylike curse.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” Jemma came around the table. “I’m sorry, Claire. I didn’t mean to make you drop the mugs. Let me help.”
“No, no it’s okay. Just stay over there. I can handle it.”
“But you don’t even have shoes on, you’ll cut yourself.”
She did have a point, and the shards of ceramic did look painfully sharp. I relented. “All right. Thank you, Jemma.”
With broom and dustpan in hand - which I didn’t even know she knew how to work - she swept up the remnants and dumped them while I stood still as a statue afraid to move for fear of cutting myself.
Sometime in the middle of all that the timer for the coffee chirped to let me know it was ready to be poured. Unable to move I stood there helplessly and stared as the seconds ticked by, and the coffee started to oversaturate.
Which, as Thomas told me, was a bad thing. He had explained it to me, something about the oils mixing in and getting solids into the coffee. It was hard to recall at the moment, made harder by the fact that he was shirtless at the time.
Oh, I remembered the way he looked perfectly. The lesson he was giving me, not so much.
When Jemma gave me the all-clear I rushed to the press and plunged down the coffee. I poured it out into two new glass mugs, mindful to keep a firm grip on each.
I walked shakily back to the table where Jemma had sat back down nibbling on one of the pastries. She never did like fancy-looking food and so I was surprised when she made an appreciative nod and began to shove some sort of powdery cake into her mouth.
Baking Up Love Page 8
