Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  “What are you doing here?” My voice came out much higher-pitched than I was hoping for. What happened to my low, breathy regal voice I use in the throne room?

  “You ran off last night without telling me your name,” he said, straightening to his full height, which looked to be a very solid six foot two.

  I’d never seen a Sweetopia employee look sexy in their stupid candy-pink polo shirt, but Marcus obliterated that record. His biceps filled out the short sleeves, the cuffs tight around his firm, sculpted, bronze-colored muscles. And now, with his apron off, I could see the shirt was even a little tight across his pecs. I had a feeling he was one of those guys who had rock-hard abs lurking underneath that fabric.

  Marcus was such a stark contrast to my clients, most of whom were pasty-white older men with small dicks and receding hairlines. They had money, though. So at least there was that. That money was essential in filling the gaps my salary here at Sweetopia left when it came to caring for my special needs son.

  “Sorry about that,” I answered him, dipping down to retrieve my lunch from the small refrigerator under the counter—another amenity I had to beg my bosses for. I could feel his eyes burning into my backside before I straightened. “Do you mind? I’m supposed to eat lunch now.”

  “I’m hungry too,” he fired back, but it was obvious he wasn’t talking about food.

  This guy was so completely ridiculous, I had to bite back my laughter. I was used to my subs. They were eager to please and so demure. I wasn’t used to interacting with a man who was so…assertive. Aggressive.

  I hated to admit it.

  I mean, really, really hated to admit it.

  But I like it.

  As much as I tried to deny it—hell, I worked as a dominatrix, for fuck’s sake—I liked an alpha male. And a smart, charming, glasses-wearing alpha male? With a fucking British accent, no less? Well, I was done for. Of course, that “type” was exactly what got me into so much trouble in the past. That’s why I had two sons and no man to show for my efforts. Both of their fathers skipped town before they were even born.

  Assholes.

  My tubes were tied now, though. There weren’t going to be any accidental pregnancies. Besides, I was a lot smarter now than I was when I was twenty-one and twenty-five respectively. I was now thirty-two, and I knew better than to let my heart out of its cage again. That ship had sailed.

  Marcus must have taken my quizzical look as an invitation because he stepped closer to me. His dark eyes were aflame as he stroked a long finger down my cheek. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since last night.”

  I stifled a giggle. “Is that so?”

  Being thirty-two and completely opposed to any type of relationship didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun. Right?

  “Yes, Your Highness, it is so,” he growled in that fucking panty-wetting British accent. Though he insisted it was, I doubted it was even real. Not that I cared. It was still sexy as fuck. “But I still don’t know your name.”

  It wasn’t like he couldn’t find out my name from his boss or any other park employee. I rolled my eyes before settling them on his, which were dark and flickering with desire. “It’s Jolie.”

  “Jolie,” he repeated. “What a beautiful name.”

  “Well, yeah, it means ‘pretty’ in French,” I snapped back.

  “I know.” His upper lip quirked up before he sank his teeth into his lower lip. “I know French.”

  “You do?”

  “Oui, madame.” He gave me his most charming smile and swept down into a bow.

  He was too. Fucking. Much. I wanted those lips on me. I hadn’t had a summer fling in years. Not since college. I hadn’t even had real sex in a year.

  No, I didn’t have intercourse with my clients. It was purely about discipline: spanking, whipping, restraints, orgasm denial. Fun stuff like that.

  I knew I shouldn’t go any further. I should have just sent him away right then, should have waved him off dismissively. It was beyond stupid to get involved with someone at work—especially with everything I had on the line here. But he was a summer temp. If I could just make it through the next three months, he’d be out of my hair. And I could have a little fun in the meantime, a little distraction from my grueling life as a single mom with two jobs and two sons, one of whom had special needs.

  “Come here,” I beckoned him with my index finger curled and wiggling.

  He pointed to himself with an innocent grin, like, who me?

  Yes, you. Get your ass over here, I said with my eyes.

  In two steps, he closed the gap between us, and a heartbeat later his arms were wrapping around me. There was a strength there, a sense of control that set my nerves on fire. Even through all the layers of my costume, I felt my lady bits soaking my panties as his lips crashed into mine. His grip on the back of my corset was so tight, and my breasts heaved so frantically, I thought the entire bodice might burst open at any moment.

  “Just a second.” I broke away, desperate to make sure my dressing room door was locked. It was. My mind swirled with all sorts of devious thoughts as he swept me up in his embrace again, his lips feverishly working against mine, against my neck and down to my cleavage. My makeup artist was going to have her work cut out for her restoring my face to its former regal glory at the end of my lunch hour.

  He lifted me up onto the counter, not even slightly balking at my weight or the absurdity of so many flouncing layers of velvet and lace. I expected him to ask me how to gain access, but he was silent. He simply lifted and parted, and I felt the cool air from the vent above my head hit my pussy with a whoosh, causing an immediate lightning bolt to cascade through the raging inferno it had become.

  “What are you doing?” I breathed out, my chest still heaving as I struggled to fill my restricted lungs with air. Damn, this corset is so fucking tight!

  “Having lunch,” he murmured matter-of-factly as he hooked his fingers on the sides of my black satin panties and slid them down my legs.

  There was no time for me to say anything else before his mouth attacked my dripping pussy lips, the scruff of his beard grazing against the delicate tissue and sending a series of brilliant tingles up and down my spine. My clit began to ache for his tongue as he spent what felt like hours lavishing the rest of my womanhood with attention. Threading my fingers through his dark hair, I bucked my hips against his face and heard his chuckle vibrate through me.

  “Patience, my dear Queen,” his deep voice rumbled. “I want to savor every last drop.”

  But I couldn’t think straight. My hips were involuntarily grinding into him, my grip tightening in his hair. Fuck…where did this man learn to eat pussy? It was like he’d taken a class. Like he could teach a class.

  Sometimes I made my subs pleasure me, but it was rarely pleasurable. It was all for them. They wanted to be scolded, punished for not doing it adequately. They were sloppy and ineffectual. Marcus was a goddamn master.

  “Fuck…” I was so close to the edge. I tried to remember the last orgasm I had—by my own hand, no doubt—and it was so fuzzy, I couldn’t remember any of the details. As if I wasn’t already teetering, he inserted one, then another finger into my tight channel and began to fuck me relentlessly with them.

  He lifted his head up just enough to say, “Come for me, Jolie. Come all over my face.”

  That did it.

  A burst of ecstasy shot through me like a rocket, shattering the steadily rising walls of need his tongue had built within me. I felt a gush as each spasm clenched around his fingers, which had stilled to bear witness to my climax. I was off somewhere beyond the moon, then I slowly floated back down to earth.

  The orgasm relinquished its command of my body, and my senses began to function again. I noticed for the first time that my fingers were nearly numb from gripping the edge of the countertop, and my lacy petticoats were itchy around my hips. I heard Marcus panting as he finished slurping up the mess I’d made.

  “That was—�
� I started to eke out.

  “No.” He lifted himself to standing, then he leaned over to press a finger to my lips. “Just go eat your lunch. You need to keep up your energy for your queenly duties.” He winked as he stepped back and offered me a hand to help me to my feet.

  Is this guy even for real? “Don’t you want…?”

  He shook his head. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

  And in a flash, he was gone.

  4

  Cy

  I dutifully passed on the intel I’d gathered to my parents, who basically rolled their eyes and told me to push harder. The only thing I wanted to do was push my throbbing hard dick into Jolie’s wet pussy, but she ended up calling out the rest of the week.

  I couldn’t get that woman out of my mind, and her not being there made my week that much longer and more grueling. Every time I thought about her, I pitched a tent in my goddamn pants like a freaking teenager. I had never—EVER—been affected by a woman this way.

  I had also never gone down on a woman not expecting anything in return. I just needed to see if she was as beautiful moaning and quivering in pleasure as she was just looking at me with those mesmerizing lavender-gray eyes.

  The answer was that she was even more beautiful.

  After a weekend spent mostly sleeping because a full forty-hour workweek kicked my ass, I parked my piece-of-shit truck in the employee parking lot at Sweetopia and began the long trek to the gates. Naturally, the sky opened up just as I made it far enough from the truck to make going back for an umbrella wildly impractical.

  As my shirt soaked through, I thought about the possibility of stripping it off and venturing down to the throne room to prance around in front of Jolie in all my shirtless glory. Maybe I could have my way with her before the clock struck nine and we were inundated by zillions of rambunctious, sugar-fueled kids.

  If not, maybe we at least had time for her to reciprocate the oral I gave her last week? I mean, I would be okay with that. Equality and all that.

  I headed for the back of the park where Cotton Candy Castle loomed into the cloud-layered sky. A momentary worry about lightning striking one of the spires flashed through my mind, but it faded when I noticed the throne room door was open today.

  That was another thing my parents were livid about: The Red Velvet Queen being off work for three days.

  “We need to hire an understudy,” my mother insisted. “She’s the most popular costumed character. Do you know how disappointed every single little girl in the park has been the past three days?”

  My father just grumbled something about how expensive it would be to keep an understudy on staff. Then my mother followed up with some rant about how maybe they should just fire the current queen and find someone more reliable.

  The way they were talking about her made me so angry, but I couldn’t say anything. And I knew I couldn’t say anything to Jolie either, or I’d blow my cover. I assumed she was back, however, because the throne room doors had been shut the past three days with a huge sign expressing Sweetopia’s deepest apologies that the attraction was temporarily closed.

  I would go say hi as soon as I clocked in. I was running late. Damn rain. I hoped my boss wouldn’t be too mad.

  I sneaked in the back door, weaving my way through the kitchen before making my way to the counter area of the bakery. I noticed Colleen’s back toward me, but even more noteworthy was Jolie, looking absolutely divine in her tightly corseted red velvet dress. The only thing missing from her usual ensemble was her crown.

  I had the sudden desire to take her while she wore nothing but her jewel-encrusted tiara. It would be fucking sexy as hell.

  I stopped short when I overheard their conversation.

  “—that’s another thing we’ll talk about at our next meeting,” Jolie said.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be able to make it? Everything is okay at home?” I detected worry in my boss’s voice.

  Jolie let out a sigh. “As far as I know. There’s too much at stake at this point…”

  Colleen nodded. “I know it’s hard.” She rested a hand on Jolie’s shoulder. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”

  A lump formed in my throat. What is going on with her? From the way her brows were bunched up and her lips pursed, it seemed like it was something pretty serious.

  “No, but thank you, Colleen. I hope everything comes together like we’ve all hoped. I know we’re not alone. It’s good that there’s so much support for this, not just here but…more broadly.” Jolie’s cheeks rose as a hopeful smile spread across them.

  “Amen to that,” my boss agreed, patting Jolie’s arm again. “Well, we’re going to keep the faith and keep fighting.”

  “Always,” Jolie responded, her face brightening ever so subtly. Her eyes jerked up to find me in the shadows. “Well, if it isn’t Marcus!” She shot a warning glare at Colleen, but I couldn’t read my boss’s reaction as I stepped out into the main service area of the bakery.

  “Good morning, ladies,” I said, dusting off my British accent, which had gotten rather rusty over the weekend. I’d nearly forgotten my glasses when I left my house today. Thank god I remembered at the last minute.

  “Did you have a nice weekend?” Jolie questioned, but she didn’t really wait for an answer. Instead, her eyes flitted toward the clock before flashing back to Colleen. “Shit, I have to go. I’ll catch you guys later.” With that, she gathered up her full skirts and scurried across the bakery, exiting out the side door into the castle.

  I aimed my thumb in the direction she went. “Is everything okay with her? I noticed she was gone a few days last week.”

  Colleen sighed, her worried look only deepening. “I hope so…” is all she said, her voice trailing off somewhere that her words didn’t want to follow.

  I shrugged. “So what is this big meeting about?” I tried to slide that question in there as nonchalantly as possible.

  But my boss waved her hand to dismiss it. “Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  But I was worried about it. I had a feeling Colleen was hiding a great deal of valuable intel from me. I tied on my apron and told her I’d be right back.

  I was on the way to the bathroom, but my plan was to stop any Sweetopia employee I saw and ask if they knew anything about some “meeting.” Strategery and all that.

  First guy I encountered was a janitor of some sort. He was running one of those manual vacuum thingies (no idea what they are called; my knowledge of household appliances is sorely lacking) down the carpet runner that led to the throne room.

  “Hey,” I said as casually as I could.

  He looked up at me with a blank expression on his face. He was young, maybe eighteen, and wore braces.

  When it became apparent he wasn’t going to return my salutation, I asked, “Do you know anything about the next meeting?”

  “Meeting?” he repeated. He scratched a bit of sparse scruff on his chin that had nothing on the sexy beard I was currently cultivating. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I gave him a smile, and his only response was to raise an eyebrow at me before shifting his gaze back to the carpet runner.

  I continued down the hall until I came to the gift shop. This place was about to be overrun with children, so I felt like I was on the clock. Hopefully I could swoop in and out and not have to deal with a massive stampede to buy a plush Donut Dragon, which was the friendly dragon that lived in Cotton Candy Castle with The Red Velvet Queen and who’d helped her defeat the evil sorceress and save Sweetopia from peril.

  I spotted the manager of the store, but then a bit of panic flashed through me as I considered asking her about the meeting. I was pretty sure I had met her a few summers ago. Would she recognize me? It was a risk I was going to have to take.

  I ambled up to the counter deliberately channeling my inner Marcus Young, trying very hard not to swagger like I was Cy Sweet and practically owned the place. I coa
xed the British accent into overdrive as I asked, “Hello, I’m Marcus Young—over in The Bard’s Bakery. Just trying to get around to meet everyone else in the building. How are you?”

  The way she smiled at me, it was obvious she was checking me out. She was several years older than me, but she had good taste, that much was clear. “I’m Ellie Martin.” She extended her hand for me to shake, the interest in her honey brown eyes unmistakable.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie.” The words slid out of my mouth with so much charm and sex appeal that I was practically making myself swoon.

  “We don’t get too many Brits in these parts,” she said with a wink. “What brings you across the pond?”

  “Oh, you know, university…” I smiled at her, hoping I could use her attraction to my advantage to leverage some information about this mythical meeting.

  “Florida Gulf Coast?” she mentioned the closest school to our location.

  “Oh, sure,” I agreed, hoping she didn’t ask me any specifics.

  “Nice, what are you studying?”

  Shit. I should have known she would make this meeting about me. “Hey, I have to get back to the bakery. I was just wondering something, though?”

  “What’s that?” Her eyes sparkled as though she was waiting for me to ask her out. Yeah, right!

  “Do you know anything about a…meeting…coming up?”

  Her nose, which was a little too large for her face, wrinkled up, showing her extreme disappointment. She swallowed it down and forced a smile to lift the corners of her lips. “Yeah, why?”

  Oh, fantastic, now we are getting somewhere!

  “Where is it? Who is organizing it?” I pressed, trying not to seem too anxious for the answers. Even though I totally was.

  She giggled. “It’s by invite only. Can’t reveal my sources.” She gave me a wink that was too flirty to be anything but an invitation.