by Drew Elyse
I did not expect that.
“Did you ask Roy to call me?”
Daz made a noncommittal noise I took as agreement.
As much as I wanted to be flattered by that, I had to be rational. “That’s dangerous, Daz. We don’t need anyone else here getting involved in whatever we’ve got going on.”
That was good. Cool and levelheaded was the way to go. Constantly getting caught up in him and the—admittedly explosive—chemistry between us was a recipe for disaster. This was just a fling. That was all Daz did, and that was all I was interested in from him. No one else, particularly not people we worked with, needed to get wrapped up in it.
“What’ve we got going on?” Daz asked, his tone dipping low in a way I felt between my legs as his hand inched up and around my thigh toward that very spot.
“Daz,” I breathed, not knowing whether it was a protest or an invitation.
“Do you want to know what I think should be going on?” he pressed, that hand still inching. I should have stopped it—stopped him. We’d already crossed the line in this building once. We didn’t need a repeat. But those phone calls with him where I’d had to take care of myself only built up a hunger, and I knew exactly how well Daz could satisfy it.
“I don’t know.”
He chuckled, and my pussy clenched.
“We should go out to your car, and you should take me back to your place.”
We shouldn’t. We really, really shouldn’t. It was a bad idea. It was absolutely not something we should do…
But, fuck. I wanted to.
“Okay.”
“So, this is where you live, sugar?”
There should have been a name for the moment when you showed someone your home for the first time and experienced a momentary identity crisis. What were they seeing? What did the space say about you? Like every piece of furniture and decoration, right down to the color of the siding was somehow a direct reflection of your innermost self.
On that thought, I still wasn’t sure about that sand colored siding.
And I should have really thought about repainting the living room walls. The slightly yellow-toned cream wasn’t working so well. Maybe a forest green accent wall would have been nice.
Before I could formulate something to say that wouldn’t be a flurry of justifications for everything in sight, Daz turned toward the kitchen.
“You gotta be shittin’ me.”
Playing it cool went out the window at that, and I rushed over to his side to see what he was reacting to. Everything looked normal to me. No signs of a break in or random creatures that shouldn’t be there. There were a couple things out on the counters, but no major mess. Just a few ingredients left out next to the tray of…
Cupcakes.
He walked right over to the treats, picking one up and inspecting it. Cupcake still in hand, he turned back to me looking like I’d just struck him.
Penny in the air…
“You made all that shit?”
…and the penny dropped.
After months of refusing to tell him my source, there was nothing for it. “Yes.”
“The cupcakes, the pie, everything?”
Wow. He really couldn’t believe it. Was it that crazy that I could do something besides work a pole and corral a bunch of dancers?
“Everything,” I assured him.
He unceremoniously ripped the liner from around the cupcake he was holding and took a bite. Actually, that was too polite. He devoured it, taking half the cupcake in one mouthful. There was frosting, crumbs, and a bit of the raspberry filling all over his mouth and up to his nose.
He tried to speak, but his words were muffled by the cake to the point where crumbs dropped onto his shirt.
When he swallowed, I asked, “Want to try that again?”
“You made my favorite.”
Damn. Hopefully he didn’t think that was intentional.
I didn’t respond to that. Moving past him to the fridge, I poked my head in while asking, “Thirsty? I’ve got milk, lemonade, soda, water.”
“Milk,” he responded. When I looked up, he was already cramming the rest of the cupcake in. By the time I got a glass and poured him some, he was reaching for another.
“Did you think to ask if those were for something?”
His eyes shot up to me for a moment, but he didn’t pause in pulling the liner free. “Are they?”
“No,” I admitted.
“So, you just like to give me shit?”
Well, maybe a little.
I shrugged as I brought him his milk. He took the glass from me while giving me a grin that looked ridiculous.
Neither of us said anything until he'd polished off that cupcake. I kept myself busy by putting away the few odds and ends I hadn’t cleaned up earlier—anything to keep myself from standing there watching him. I got an innate giddiness from watching people enjoy the desserts I made, but there was something far more potent about the way Daz dug in with such relish.
Of course, that may have also been the fact that I was pretty assured he was going to move from devouring cupcakes to devouring me any time now.
“Do you sell these?” Daz asked when he finished.
I’d done everything I could think to do and was leaning against the counter. Seeing that he didn’t immediately reach for another, I grabbed one of the boxes I ordered in bulk online and got to work loading the rest inside.
“Sometimes. I’m not set up to do much. I don’t have clearance to act as a commercial kitchen. But I'll make things for parties when people contact me. It started with a couple people I knew, then guests would ask where they got the cake and get my number. Just small things like that.”
Daz drained his milk while I spoke, then focused on me. “You could be doing a hell of a lot more than that. The shit you make is fuckin’ great. You ever think of opening a bakery?”
Only every day since I was a kid.
I shrugged. “It’s not easy to get started. Startup cost for a location with a good kitchen space, not to mention all the equipment, is substantial. Then there’s figuring out a way to make it. They say something like eight out of ten startups fail in the first eighteen months. Pouring all my savings into something that might not work instead of keeping a steady paycheck isn’t the most appealing thing.”
That was bullshit. I would have done it in a minute. I’d take that leap and not look back.
I just knew it wasn’t an option.
When I closed up the box, his eyes were on me. He looked skeptical, like he could see past the excuses. “Gotta say, I think you’re too talented to fail.”
That was sweet. Why did he have to be sweet?
That was never part of the plan.
“I didn’t think we were here to talk about my baking,” I said, raising an eyebrow and adopting a face I knew drove men wild.
Daz stalked toward me, backing me into the counter and looming over me. “Sugar, we’ll get to that, don’t you fucking worry. But don’t give me that stage bullshit to try to lead me around by my dick. You don’t want to talk, all you gotta do is say so.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
His grin was downright salacious.
“Then take me somewhere I can fuck you.”
I could do that. I was tempted to tell him we didn’t have to go anywhere, but that kitchen was my temple. He could fuck me to the edge of my sanity somewhere else—somewhere I didn’t go to get out of my own head.
Grabbing one of his hands, I pushed free from between him and the counter and led him down the hall to my bedroom. Compared to the way I’d kitted out my kitchen, my bedroom was plain and uninteresting. I didn’t worry about what Daz would read from that space, not that he was paying the same attention anymore. As I approached the bed and turned back to him, his focus was entirely on me.
The backs of my thighs hit the edge of the mattress right before his arms circled me and his mouth came down on mine. No one should have been able to kiss the way Daz di
d. Just that simple act shouldn’t have been so arousing that it felt like I was coming out of my skin. It wasn’t fair.
Daz pulled away, his mouth moving down my neck, his arms pulling me in even tighter. His breath was hot when he muttered, “Fuck, your mouth is sweeter than your fuckin’ cupcakes.”
God, but I loved that he thought that.
I loved it enough, I wanted to show him how sweet my mouth could be.
Grabbing his shoulders, I pressed until he understood what I wanted, stepping around until his back was to the bed. Then, I shoved at his chest, and his ass hit the edge.
“You going to take control of me tonight, sugar?” He didn’t sound displeased in the slightest at that idea.
“Maybe.”
“Help yourself. You want to sit on my face, take my dick however you want, I’m all fuckin’ yours.”
All mine.
Well, I knew where I wanted to start. I pulled off my shirt and dropped it behind me before reaching around to unclasp my bra. Daz’s eyes got hotter. His hands came out to grasp my waist, but I shrugged off his hold before he could pull me in.
“Want my mouth on those gorgeous tits,” he growled.
How he even managed to make “tits” sound good was beyond me. Usually, a man opened his mouth in the bedroom and it was like a bucket of cold water. Daz managed to make everything sound delicious.
“I thought it was whatever I wanted,” I reminded him.
His eyes moved up from my chest, his expression impatient. “Then give me something. I’m dying here, sweets.”
I could do that.
Dropping to my knees, I worked his belt open. He muttered a, “Fuck yes,” before pulling off his cut and shirt, then leaning back so I had room to get his jeans undone. His cock was already hard, pressing against the clothing holding it down. It sprung free as I yanked his pants down to his thighs, him lifting his hips to assist. Taking them all the way off wasn’t worth the time.
My hands settled on his hard thighs as I lowered my head and licked his cock from base to tip. Daz groaned in response, his hips lifting to press harder against my tongue. While I licked my way back down, he yanked the ponytail holder from my hair and grabbed the lot of it in his fists. I went lower, until I was at his heavy sac, and teased each ball with my tongue until his grip tightened, pulling on the strands just a bit.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted while I played.
I aimed my eyes up to see his head was thrown back, and I grinned. He wasn’t the only one who could work their tongue.
After another minute of driving him crazy, I moved back up to his cock. He released a sigh as I surrounded the head with my lips. Then, without warning, I sucked him deep, until the tip was at the back of my throat. His hips drove up as he cursed wildly. Forcing myself not to lose control, I let the fluttering of my gag reflex work him for a second before I pulled back and took a deep breath.
His hands released my hair and came to cup my jaw, pulling me off his cock and up to face him.
“You are fuckin’ extraordinary,” he pronounced on a rasp.
My triumphant grin came of its own accord.
“Get up here on my cock,” he demanded.
I tried to lower my head, but he pulled harder on my hair, arching my neck up further.
“You said I could do what I wanted,” I argued.
“Babe, you get up here and ride my cock however you want, just as long as I get inside you. After that, you can run this fucking show all night. Yeah?”
I could work with that.
Climbing to my feet got Daz to release his hold on my hair. I shimmied out of my pants and underwear while he grabbed a condom from his pocket and kicked off his own. When he was positioned back against the headboard, I climbed onto the bed, making a show of crawling up his body.
It was when I leaned in to drag my breasts over his cock that he lost control, hauling me up with his hands under my arms until I was straddling him. Feeling the length of him right there was too good to resist. I reached between us, positioning him, and sunk down until his whole cock was buried inside me.
“Fuck yes,” Daz groaned.
This was what I’d needed. The phone sex had been good—better than I would have expected it could be—but each time made me more aware of the fact that my own touch couldn’t compare to the real thing.
I rolled my hips, adjusting to his size and rubbing my clit against him. Daz let me work us both up for a minute, but that was all he was giving me. He made that clear when his hands grabbed my ass and lifted me up before yanking me back down.
Getting with the program, I began to ride him hard and fast, but his guiding hands never let up. For every rise and fall, he pushed me faster. He used his grip to pull me forward until my hands were on the headboard, using it for leverage. The new angle pressed my clit against him in a way that every movement sent shockwaves through me.
“Oh God.”
“That’s right, sugar. That sweet fuckin’ pussy is going to come all over me.”
He was right. So right. So…
“Fuck,” I cried out as it came over me, the tremors of it moving through my whole body. Even as my movements stuttered and my muscles gave out, Daz kept moving me, fucking himself with my body.
It was brutal. It was overwhelming.
It was fucking incredible.
The bastard sun woke me at what had to be not long after dawn.
Seeing as it had to be after two before I’d finished fucking Avery for the final time—on her hands and knees since her body couldn’t keep up with her greedy fucking pussy—the early wakeup call could fuck right off.
I wanted to move to shut the blinds, but Avery was sprawled partly on my chest. I wasn’t averse to keeping a woman in bed with me overnight. Some guys who were looking to get tied down might not have let that shit fly, but I found the benefit of a warm, welcoming woman in the morning was worth the risk she might not know the score.
Right then, though, my dick wasn’t stirring. It was too fucking early, and Avery had worn him out. That alone was a novel experience. Never, not once, had a woman satisfied me so completely. Avery was just a fucking natural.
Even her perky, bared tits pressed against me didn’t get me past a half chub. My dick was too sated to rise to the occasion.
I couldn’t say whether that was fucking fantastic or scared the shit out of me.
While I was trying to puzzle that shit out, Avery groaned and brought a hand up to shield her eyes. Cracking one lid, she glared at the window with a ferocity that shouldn’t have been sexy. That half stock I’d been rocking started to perk up.
Apparently, he wasn’t fully worn out after all.
“You and your dick distracted me last night before I remembered to close the blinds,” she grumbled.
Grabbing her hand, which made her shut her eyes as I stole her shield, I brought it down to press against said dick. “Could distract you again.”
“Too early,” she denied, but she didn’t move her hand away either. My cock cozied up into her touch and I bit back a groan.
“He disagrees.”
“Your cock gets its own vote?”
“He, sugar,” I corrected. “Show him some respect.”
That lost me her hand on my dick and gained me a slap in the gut.
“Close the blinds and I’ll show him some respect later.”
“How come I have to get my ass up to shut the blinds when you were the one who bought a house with east-facing windows in the bedroom?” I grumbled even as I did just that. “Bad fuckin’ call, babe.”
“I didn’t realize that was east. I viewed the house in the middle of the afternoon,” she argued. “Besides, I bought this place based on the kitchen. The bedroom just had to be here.”
Pulling the drapes—blackout ones, good but unsurprising with the hours I knew she worked—and darkening the room to give us both some relief, I told her, “That’s some jacked logic. The bedroom’s where all the best shit happens.”
She peeked her eyes open again, keeping them that way when she’d verified I’d blocked out the damn light. “You’ve eaten my cupcakes.”
Fuck me, but she was right. She created some serious magic in that kitchen.
“Fair point,” I conceded, collapsing back onto the bed.
I rolled toward her, pulling her body into mine and maneuvering my leg so it was bent between hers, the warmth of her pussy against my thigh.
“Too fuckin’ early. Back to sleep.”
Avery’s body was stiff for a minute, but I stayed put and quiet. She took a bit, but she let whatever was fixing to crawl up her ass go, settled in, and we both fell asleep again.
It was the bastard alarm on my phone that woke me the second time.
“No,” Avery groaned along to the sound.
I unwrapped myself from around her and reached out to grab it. Nine a.m. Kate and Owen would have to check out in two hours.
It was only remembering that fact that made me realize I’d woken up earlier without my first thought being about Joel. I didn’t lay in bed overwhelmed by the knowledge that my fucking brother was gone and I was suddenly responsible for his family.
I’d just woken up in bed with Avery and fucking enjoyed it, however brief it was.
Even now, it was the only reason behind my alarm going off that brought it to the forefront of my mind.
I needed to get over to the hotel and take Kate and Owen back to the farmhouse. But first, I had to swing by the clubhouse for a shower and change of clothes.
And before I did any of that, I was going to have to convince myself to get out of Avery’s bed with her still warm and naked in it. This girl, who was apparently the ultimate balm to the horrendous shit in my life right now.
The first two of those were easy enough. The last was probably going to be the hardest part.
Not helping me out in the slightest, when I brought my top half back around after silencing my phone, I found Avery stretching her arms above her head, thrusting her spectacular rack right in my face.
Okay, maybe my agenda was going to have to find a little time to fuck her before I got to the rest of the shit I needed to do.
