Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  “Never mind that… Work is done for the day; let’s not think about it.” I reached out to stroke a finger down her cheek, but before I made contact, she visibly bristled.

  Oh, shit. I might be going too far. Apparently this pink polo shirt screams pathetic loser. I should have known better.

  “I’m sorry, may I?” I corrected myself. Manners never hurt anyone, right?

  Jolie

  The thought of calling for security did very briefly cross my mind when Marcus went to touch my face. Who the hell is this guy? I’d never seen him before this morning, and I had a feeling he was one of the new summer temps. I heard they never stick around too long. When he evaded my question, that convinced me even more that he was a temp.

  He was not only persistent, but quite gorgeous with his dark, tousled hair, matching scruff outlining a strong jaw, and, of course, glasses. Glasses on a guy were always a total swoon-worthy thing for me. I always imagined it meant they liked to read. Probably a bad assumption on my part, but nerds had always been my type.

  He was just standing there staring at me, waiting for permission to kiss me. The look on his face was a cross between boyish incorrigibility and a devious scoundrel—basically, a combination that was nearly impossible for me to resist. Especially since I wasn’t used to someone else making the first move. In my other line of work, I called all the shots. I made all the demands.

  Otherwise, it had been a long time since I’d experienced anything close to intimacy. Anything close to this attraction that was pulling me toward him like a magnet.

  He didn’t repeat himself, but his eyes stayed steadily on mine, peeling away layer after layer of my possible defenses. It was clear the moment I softened, the precise second I surrendered, because a smile curled on his plump, luscious lips as he reached for my cheek again. A gentle touch tilted my chin up to receive a feathery brush against my mouth.

  It was so much lighter and more delicate than I ever imagined that I let out a surprised gasp, which apparently inspired him to sweep me up in his arms and deepen the kiss to something that, if I had ever experienced anything like it, it had been countless lifetimes ago.

  His kiss was ravenous and needy, his arms tightening around my waist as his firm chest pressed into the boning in my corset, squeezing the air out of my lungs. His other hand threaded itself through my long, curly hair, pulling my head back to expose my neck. Seconds later his mouth marched down my chin to my throat with nips and nibbles delivered along the way. My knees began to buckle under the weight of my full skirts and his relentless kisses.

  Fearing I might collapse, I gasped again, the air filling my lungs with just enough oxygen to command my brain to take control of the situation. I jerked back, leaving him in mid-kiss, his eyes slowly fluttering open as if to ask what just happened?

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was a deep growl, as if he wasn’t actually sorry at all. “I just lost all control there for a moment.”

  The worst part was…so did I.

  I wasn’t the type to lose control. Both of my jobs—well, actually, all three of my jobs—were based on my ability to maintain control. Strict, unwavering control over my thoughts, my body, and my goals.

  “Marcus,” I simultaneously straightened my back and tugged down my corset, which had inched upward during our entanglement, “I really must be going. Can you find your way out?”

  He nodded, but his lips were toying with a smile as if he didn’t believe I was actually going to leave.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, confirming that I was indeed heading out for the night.

  “But you didn’t tell me your real name,” he called after me.

  I thought about tossing it over my shoulder to him as I made my way through the labyrinth backstage area of the castle, but I thought better of it.

  I had things to do. People to see. Battles to fight.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  The whip cracked over my sub’s crinkled, sallow skin with a sharp pop that almost snapped me back to reality. I had spent the entire drive over here trying to get myself in the right frame of mind for my session with Mr. Barry, but I had failed miserably.

  I couldn’t get that kiss I shared with Marcus out of my head.

  The one that started with the light-as-a-feather brush against my lips like an artist just barely dabbing paint onto the canvas.

  So meticulous. So exacting.

  And then the gradual, sweeping crescendo, the way every nerve was engaged, Marcus the Maestro conducting my body like an orchestra that swelled under his touch. I still felt those tingles coursing through me, and it had been nearly an hour now since I fled down the dark hallway of the castle, hoping to god I didn’t run into any of my coworkers.

  I was afraid they would see the desire written all over my face.

  “Mistress?”

  Mr. Barry’s pale gray eyes looked up at me as I walked around him. He was waiting for my next command. He was waiting to get his money’s worth.

  I pushed the thoughts of Marcus deep down into my soul and mustered up that raw, unyielding grit I’d practically trademarked. I can get through this. I will get through this.

  Later that night when I pulled into the last open parking space in the apartment complex, I rushed up the stairs to my front door. The porch light had burned out. Again. I swear, it’s always something.

  I unlocked the door and tiptoed in. It was nearly ten o’clock, and my mother was sprawled out on the sofa. She stirred when she heard me approach, even though I was trying hard to be quiet.

  “Go to bed, Mom,” I whispered.

  “How was everything?” Her voice sounded groggy. It was so hard for her to sleep anymore, I hated waking her up. I’d tried to be quiet, but these thigh-high lace-up boots with four-inch spike heels were not exactly conducive to sneaking up on anyone.

  I couldn’t wait to get out of my second costume for the day and just breathe free, no restrictive laces or boning digging into my ribs. I just wanted to be naked. I’d have to coax Mom into her own room first.

  “I’m fine, Mom. How is River?”

  “He was coughing earlier, but he quieted down eventually.”

  I sighed. I hoped he didn’t have another fit tonight. We’d had to use his nebulizer in the middle of the night twice last week. I really needed to sleep tonight. We all did. Tomorrow was another long, grueling day.

  I slipped out of my boots, relishing the feel of the cool linoleum under my stocking-clad feet. This time when I tiptoed, I barely made a sound. River didn’t stir when I traipsed across his carpeted floor and bent to check on his breathing. There was a slight rattle in his lungs that never fully went away, but otherwise he seemed to be fine. His older brother Reed stirred, pulling the blanket back around him as he flipped over to face the wall.

  “Love you,” I whispered into the dark room. I hoped their little ears picked up my voice and carried it into their dreams.

  3

  Cy

  Last night before I left, my father called me into his office to remind me of my mission in the park: to determine which employee was organizing meetings and possibly planning a strike or some other type of retaliation. I had a feeling he wanted to get rid of whoever this troublemaker was before any further damage could be done to employee morale or our family’s reputation.

  “I’m working on it, Dad,” I sneered at him. “I’ve only been there one day. Cut me some slack.”

  His mouth set into a firm, thin line. “I just know you have a tendency to get off track, Cy,” he admonished me. “Like how you switched your major three times in college, and how one minute you’re in Tahiti studying Polynesian art, and the next minute you want to jet off to Greece.”

  “I know, Dad.” I reached out to lay my hand on his shoulder. “But having that money you promised will really help me make the most of my trip to Greece, so trust me, it’s a powerful motivator. I plan to start asking around tomorrow. Today was just reconnaissance…you know, getting the lay of the l
and. I’ll start putting feelers out tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Son,” he’d said, fixing his dark eyes on me. “Don’t let me down.”

  That conversation was still ringing in my ears when I pushed open the back door to the castle and weaved my way through the labyrinth of tunnels and hallways until I made it to The Bard’s Bakery.

  “See? I made it back!” I waved to my boss Colleen before I reached beneath the counter to pull out the apron I’d tucked under there the night before.

  “If you’re looking for your apron, it’s hung in the back room where it goes. Hooks to the right of the freezer,” she told me flatly.

  “Oh, okay, sorry. Guess I forgot.” She seemed to accept my sheepish smirk with a tilt of her head and just the faintest hint of a smile. I came out of the back room tying the apron around my waist. It was time to put on the charm and start gathering some intel.

  I scrubbed down my hands in the stainless steel sink. “So how long have you been working here?” My accent was especially thick today. Thanks to my British roommate in college and a couple of trips across the pond, it was pretty damn natural-sounding too.

  “I’m coming up on my eighth anniversary,” she answered, “so you could say I’m a Sweetopia vet.”

  I observed as she began to roll out some dough. I admired the way she had all the cookie cutters lined up on the counter ready to be used. There was a crown, a castle, a throne and a dragon. I only knew those were the cookies we sold because I saw the finished products yesterday. It was pretty unbelievable that this big mound of dough could become something so detailed and intricate-looking.

  “Have you always worked in the bakery?” I continued, trying to get her to loosen up. She was friendly enough, but I could feel tension radiating off her.

  “I worked in the ticket office my first year,” she revealed, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron. “What about you? Is this your first job?”

  “Oh, well,” I stammered. I didn’t want to talk about me for a change. “Sort of. I just graduated from college.” It was a lie, but it would help explain my lack of job experience.

  “Uh huh,” was her reply.

  Like I said, she was nice enough, but she gave off serious disapproval vibes. It was almost like hanging out with my parents, though I was pretty sure she wasn’t old enough to be my mom. She was probably…late thirties? Early forties? I wasn’t good at guessing stuff like that. She had shoulder-length reddish-brown hair and kind brown eyes.

  I glanced down at her hands as she began to press the cookie cutters into the dough and move the sliced cookies to a large metal tray. Her hands were chafed and raw, like they’d been washed too many times, and she wore a modest diamond engagement ring and matching silver band on her left hand. So, she’s married. I was starting to feel like a regular Sherlock Holmes.

  “Are you happy working here?” I proceeded with my investigation. I couldn’t exactly take notes, so I would need to commit all of this to memory. Maybe I needed to get a recording app for my phone?

  She let out a sigh as she grabbed the rolling pin off the flour-dusted counter. “It was better when I first started.”

  “Oh yeah? Why is that?” I pushed a little harder.

  “Can you quit gawking at me and put that tray in the oven?” She nudged her head to the commercial ovens stacked in the corner at the end of the counter.

  “Oh, yeah, of course.” I grabbed the tray and moseyed down to the oven. I assumed the one with the orange light on was the one it needed to go in. I couldn’t recall ever putting anything in an oven, nor taking anything out, for that matter. Here goes nothing! I gritted my teeth and pulled down the door, sliding the tray neatly inside. I don’t know why I was surprised to be hit with a blast of heat. I mean, ovens are supposed to be hot. Duh.

  My face was still on fire when I noticed The Red Velvet Queen herself had entered the bakery. I whirled to find her staring at…my ass, I think? Since I had to bend over to use the oven.

  Naturally that reminded me of seeing her bend over the day before.

  And then not only was my face on fire, but a warm, tingly sensation crept down into my more southerly regions as well. When I met her gaze, a cool, lavender frost, my dick sprang to life. What was it about this woman? She seemed to have a command over my manhood like no other woman I’d ever encountered.

  “Hi,” I choked out, remembering my accent right after the word left my mouth. “Cheerio,” I corrected myself. That’s British, right?

  A gorgeous crystalline laugh spilled out of her mouth as she threw her head back. Her raven curls rustled around her shoulders as she continued to giggle. Then she shot a look at Colleen, who had begun to join in her amusement.

  I’d nearly forgotten the conversation I was having with Colleen—or that Colleen was even in the room—until she brought the queen up to speed on our conversation, “Marcus was just asking me what I thought of working for Sweet Enterprises.”

  I detected more than a little sarcasm in her voice.

  “How should I answer that for the newbie?” Colleen continued, her head tilted to the side and her lips pursed.

  “You know what they say,” the queen brushed a wide swath of her hair off her shoulders, letting it fall against her smooth, bare back, “honesty is the best policy.”

  Oh yes, now I was getting somewhere. Maybe these two knew who was leading the revolt. It was apparent they had a beef or two with the company. Also, I desperately needed to know this siren’s name. I couldn’t keep calling her “queen.” Maybe “Red” for Red Velvet? But she has black hair. Okay, maybe “Velvet” then.

  Maybe “Hot Stuff?” Or perhaps “The Cock Whisperer” since mine seemed to be completely under her control.

  I was so engrossed in coming up with potential names for this beauty in front of me that I nearly missed Colleen’s answer to my question:

  “Sweet Enterprises masquerades as a family company, but, in fact, they’re one of the worst companies in America for families. Their health insurance sucks; vacation packages and sick leave suck, and most of their employees make minimum wage.”

  “Velvet” shot my boss a look. I couldn’t quite interpret it, but it appeared to be a mix of agreement and trepidation.

  I gulped. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Be glad you’re a temp,” Colleen said. “And that you just got your college degree. I’m sure you’ll find a great job with your—” She looked me up and down before asking, “What kind of degree did you say you have?”

  “Art history,” I choked out.

  Now the two of them exchanged knowing looks, and it was perfectly clear what their thoughts on my chosen scholarship were.

  “Never mind,” Colleen said with a laugh. “You may be here for a while, kid.” She finished pouring some coffee into a large cup, popped a lid on it, and slid it across the counter to the waiting queen.

  Velvet’s frosty amethyst eyes were still dancing with amusement when she picked the coffee up from the counter and took a sip. She flashed them over to me, and apparently that jolt of caffeine was all it took to remove any traces of mirth from her exquisite face. I noticed her intense stare seemed to be spiked with something else…

  I was struggling to put my finger on it, but when the corners of her lips pulled up seductively and her teeth sank into her bottom lip, I realized what it was:

  Desire.

  Jolie

  That guy in the bakery was a trip. I had coffee this morning before I left the apartment, but I fully admit I stopped by the bakery for another round just to see if Marcus was there. I didn’t know what it was about him—the glasses or the accent—but he was simply adorable in a way-too-young-for-me way.

  I hadn’t been able to get the memory of his lips on mine out of my head since our kiss last night. He was so forward, so assertive. Definitely not what I would expect from someone still in his twenties, not to mention someone meeting me for the first time while I was decked out in my Red Velvet ensemble. Most men I met in
general were a little standoffish, and the ones I met in costume—regrettably including the most dashing single dads—were even more intimidated. But not Marcus. After he got past the initial awe of my royal splendor, he went right after what he wanted. I had to admire that. And wonder if there was more where that came from…

  The way his eyes lit up when he saw me proved thoughts of our kiss had been floating around his head as well. But now I needed to push those thoughts to the back of my mind so I could go about my day and be the queen my little subjects needed. I had to admit I was struggling, and seeing him again didn’t help. At least the extra caffeine seemed to be a small aid.

  As I climbed onto my throne, arranging my bustling red velvet skirt around my legs, I wondered how I was going to muster up the enthusiasm I needed to get through another long-ass day of smiling and hugging children and acting all regal and shit.

  I’m doing it for Reed and River, I reminded myself. My precious sons. My lifeblood. My everything.

  With my renewed sense of purpose, the morning shift went faster than I expected. My assistant roped off the entrance to the throne room and announced to everyone in line that we would resume the meet and greets in an hour.

  A month into my tenure at Sweetopia, I had to beg and plead with the owners for an hour lunch break. They only wanted to give me thirty minutes when I first started this job, with no other breaks throughout the day. I was pretty sure that was illegal, but the Sweets didn’t care much about labor laws. I was always working overtime, staying when the line to meet me was way out the door. I hated disappointing all those kids. Did I get paid time and a half for that? Hell to the no.

  Trying not to let the rage spark inside me, as it tended to do when I thought of the Sweets, I lifted my sore ass off the throne and made my way behind the curtains to my dressing room. Imagine my surprise when I saw none other than Marcus from the bakery leaning against the counter, evidently waiting for me with a salacious grin on his face.