Smashwords version Sweet Surrender

by Georgette St. Clair

  “Okay, live like a nun, see if I care. I’m going to go restock the pussy pops. Customers have been just been eating those up.” Viola flashed an evil grin at her.

  “Viola, language!” Poppy gasped.

  “Uh, Poppy, hello?” Viola waved her hand around the room. “Remember where we are?” She grabbed the last chocolate vagina lolliop from the display stand on top of the bakery counter, and held it up.

  “Eat me! Eat me!” she said in a high squeaky voice, thrusting the lollipop towards Poppy.

  “Oh, my God. You were born to work at this place. Get away from me, woman!” She turned and ran for the back of the store, with Viola chasing her and waving the lollipop

  .

  “Hello?”

  Both women froze in place and turned to see Jeff, standing in the middle of the store, a look of amusement on his face. Viola held out the lollipop to him.

  “Chocolate vagina? Only $3.99. Plus tax. Cheapest pussy in town.”

  Poppy made spluttering noises of indignation and fury, but Viola ignored her, waving the lollipop under Jeffrey’s nose.

  He grinned and shook his head. “Thanks, I’m trying to cut back. Want some help here today? My fiancée is on a shopping rampage this morning, so you really, really need me to stay here and help you, right?”

  Viola shrugged indifferently. “As long as you promise not to deliver any lectures on Republican politics, you may stay.”

  Jeffrey scowled at her. “That will be no problem, as long as you promise not to make any narrow-minded, cliché, incorrect assumptions about people who don’t dress like they’re going to a funeral every day. And by the way, Vampira, I vote Democrat.”

  Viola flipped him the middle finger and turned her back on him, swiftly slicing open the tape on a cardboard box of vagina lollipops and restacking the display rack.

  Rafe was standing in the doorway of the bakery’s office.

  He walked over to Poppy and slung his arm around her shoulder.

  “By the way, look what I found behind Penelope’s desk drawer.” He held up a dozen colorful sheets of paper, some of them wadded and crumpled into balls. “That’s why you couldn’t open the drawer; she’d just stuffed them all behind there and they were caught in the metal track.”

  Viola swiveled to stare at him. “Letters, plural? Didn’t you tell me there was one threatening letter?”

  “Yes,” Rafe said. “Brace yourself - it turns out Penelope lied again.”

  Viola squinted at the letters. “Waiiit a minute. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” She turned and dashed outside, followed by Jeffrey, hot on her heels.

  A minute later she returned, with several brightly colored pieces of paper clutched in her hand. “Jeffrey, I do not need a guard dog. If that nut job tries anything, he’ll be the one needing protection. Rafe, look at these flyers, they’re the same colors as those letters. Somebody’s been putting the flyers under my windshield wipers, but I’ve just been throwing them away without looking at them. I saw him putting them there. It wasn’t the guy with the sign; it was a tall, skinny guy. Poppy, doesn’t that sound like the guy who attacked you?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  Scrawled across the flyers in big angry letters was the same hysterical verbiage that the intruder in her apartment had screamed at her. “Die, scarlet women! Jezebel whores will lead good men to temptation!”

  Viola leaned over to read them. “Why would I want to lead a good man to temptation? That sounds boring. I like a man who knows what he’s doing.”

  “This is actually really good news. Now we’re getting somewhere,” Rafe said, visibly cheered. “We can dust these for fingerprints, maybe find out where they were printed. We’ll find him.”

  He stuffed the letters in his brief case. “Jeffrey, keep an eye out here. I’m going to drop these off at the police station before I head in to work.”

  It wasn’t until the end of the day when the next Penelope-related bombshell detonated.

  Poppy was sitting in her favorite hiding place, the office, going over the inventory, when Viola rapped sharply on the door.

  “Poppy, come out here,” Viola sang.

  Poppy’s stomach twisted. Viola sounded sadistically chipper. This couldn’t be good.

  She opened the office door and stepped out cautiously.

  In the center of the store stood three young couples, holding wicker baskets of massage oil, and laden with glossy pink and black bags overflowing with merchandise. They were all smiling and chatting with each other and they all turned towards her eagerly when she stepped out of the office.

  “They’re here for the sensual massage demonstration,” Viola smiled, with a wicked gleam in her eye.

  Panic swept over Poppy’s face and she started making incoherent squeaking sounds, and Viola added in a low voice, “Don’t worry, I called in reinforcements. Otherwise known as Rafe.”

  “What?” Poppy’s squeak went up several octaves.

  “He gave me his cell phone number in case we had any more emergencies.”

  “That’s not what I’m what-ing about. Sensual massage demonstration? What?”

  “Penelope didn’t tell you? Shut the front door, I can’t believe it. Yes, apparently the store holds sensual massage demonstrations. Genius idea, actually, because each couple also buys a big bucket of massage oils, and I’ve been upselling the hell out of them ever since they walked in the door. By the way, they already paid for the class when they registered, and they’re really excited about it.”

  Before Poppy could protest, Viola walked over to the couples, grinning hugely. “Thank you so much for coming! I can promise you a memorable experience, and many nights of pure pleasure with your loved one if you use these techniques at home. And now, let me take you back to the demonstration room while our demonstration model gets ready.”

  We have a demonstration room? Poppy thought, mind in a whirl. Apparently they did, because Viola was leading the couples down the hall past the bakery, to a door at the very end of the hallway. She really needed to explore the rest of the bakery. What the heck else do we have here? she thought, shocked. A dungeon? A bordello?

  Viola came back in the room just as the front door opened, and Rafe rushed into the store, taking in Poppy’s panicked expression.

  He ran over to her, and put his hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay. Calm down. I got this. What’s the emergency?”

  Viola leaned over and whispered in his ear. He looked at Poppy thoughtfully, and then a devilish smile tugged at his lips.

  “Hey.” Poppy squeaked, panicked. She didn’t like where this was going.

  Her eyes lit on Jeffrey, who was attempting to hide behind the rack of lingerie. The coward. “You and Jeffrey can do it!” she pleaded.

  “No way. I’d rather be dipped in a vat of boiling acid,” Viola snapped.

  “Thanks very much, but I’d rather have root canal without anaesthesia, while being eaten alive by rabid wolverines,” Jeffrey said, shooting Viola a look of disgust.

  Viola glared at him. “Oh, really? I’d rather be dipped in steak sauce and thrown into a pit full of starving lions.”

  “Is that so? I’d rather walk across broken glass barefoot-“ and the two wandered off, debating over what tortures they’d suffer rather than rubbing hot oil on each other’s naked bodies.

  “Come on. We got this,” Rafe said, grabbing her hand. “I actually think this will be very good for you. It’ll help you shed some of your inhibitions.”

  “I have inhibitions for a reason. My body is far from model perfect and I don’t like people to look at it.” Poppy’s handed tightened on Rafe’s in panic.

  He let go of her hand and gently placed both hands on her face and tilted her face up to look at him, and she felt the rest of the world fade away, and the frantic pounding of her heartbeat slowed. He stared down at her, his gaze calm and commanding. She could fall into the caramel lakes that were his eyes and drown, and die happy there.

  “Forget about
what your mother thought about her body. Forget about fashion magazines that make their money by convincing women they need to look like airbrushed, flat-chested human giraffes. There are many men, myself included, who like a full figured woman who loves to eat. The students will love this, it will help your sister’s shop, and it will be very good for you. In more ways than one.”

  “Can’t we just cancel the class and refund their money?” Poppy pleaded, her voice shaking.

  “No way. What kind of reputation do you want this bakery to have?” He grabbed her by the hand and led her down the hall.

  “Er…Is it even possible to ruin this bakery’s reputation?” Poppy followed him into the room, panic swelling in her breast.

  “It is if people think that the owner makes promises she doesn’t keep,” he said in a low voice. He glanced around the room. The couples were seated in a row of folding chairs facing the massage table like an eager audience at a rock concert; Viola had already turned on a CD boombox which played soothing meditation music with sitar sounds and forest noises, and had lit scented tea candles that perfumed the air with the sweet scent of jasmine.

  Like a condemned woman, Viola slowly walked into the tiny changing room, where she shed her clothes and tried not to picture herself as a giant beached whale flopping on the massage table. She emerged clutching a towel around her body for dear life.

  Oh God. She had rolls. She had a belly. She had big thighs that brushed together when she walked.

  The massage table awaited. She had no choice. Damn Penelope, yet again.

  Trembling, she climbed on to the table and lay down, tucking her face in the donut-shaped hole at the end of the table. Then Rafe picked up a pair of headphones that were lying on the tray table nearby, and fitted them on her ears, and she was swallowed up in the soothing music.

  Suddenly, he flicked the towel off, and she was bare-butt naked in a room full of strangers. She clenched her fists and her muscles tightened; were they laughing at her? Why wasn’t Rafe touching her? Was he horrified by how fat she was?

  Moments later, she felt warm oil dripping on her back, and she turned her head to sneak a quick peek at the three couples, who were staring at her, enraptured.

  And she felt Rafe’s strong, warm hands on her back, and the world melted away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Poppy lay beneath him, muscles tensed and hands balled into fists, and Rafe’s heart ached at how frightened she was. How little she thought of herself and her glorious, lush curves.

  Well, that was about to change. He would show her that her body was divinely created, that it was a perfect instrument for receiving pleasure, and he was the one man meant to give her that pleasure.

  The tiny voice of his conscience chirped at him angrily, but it was a million miles away, drowned out by the roaring of blood rushing through his veins. He’d been burning up with lust for Poppy since the morning he’d met her, and when Viola told him about the massage class demonstration, images of himself caressing Poppy’s naked flesh flashed through his mind, and all reason fled.

  He spoke to the three couples in the front row, ad libbing instructions on how to give a sensual massage, but his mind was focused entirely on Poppy.

  He slowly ran his palms over her warm flesh, starting with a feather-light touch. He skimmed her back with his hands, trailing his fingers lightly into the delicious dip where her back curved in, and then moving lower, fingers tracing circles on the glorious ivory globes of her buttocks.

  It was all he could do not to bend down and trace kisses along her creamy skin. That would come later.

  He felt her muscles relaxing beneath him, and she sighed softly and relaxed into the soft padding of the massage table. He swallowed hard. Thank God he was standing behind the massage table, and his pants were baggy; all of the blood in his body had rushed to his groin and his cock was rock hard and standing at attention, straining to be free.

  The couples held hands, leaned into each other, and watched enthralled as he began kneading her back with a firmer touch, his strong hands pressing into her muscles and feeling them melt beneath him.

  As he pressed hard with his palms and dug his thumbs in, he slowly moved down her back again.

  He dripped more warm oil onto her buttocks and ran his hands over them firmly this time, squeezing and kneading, delighting in her soft, yielding warmth. Then his hands slid lower, between her generous thighs, and she moaned and he felt her tense again, but her deep breathing told him that now it was pleasure, not fear, that was causing her to muscles to go rigid beneath him. Her legs parted willingly, and he rubbed the oil on her thighs, firmly massaging them with both hands.

  Heat spread throughout his body, and his cock was so hard and swollen he almost feared it would burst from his pants. He took deep, steadying breaths, struggling to keep his mind on both the eager audience watching them, and Poppy.

  Then, finally, his hands slid between her legs, and she let out a shuddering gasp. He desperately wanted to spread her open wide, thrust his fingers inside her, pleasure her roughly…

  But he forced himself to hold back.

  He would wait until the demonstration was over and until the other couples were gone.

  Then he would build up her excitement, drag her slowly to the peak of ecstasy and stretch the moment out for as long as they both could bear it. It was better that way. She deserved to be teased, and savored, and lingered over like a delicious, creamy dessert.

  He slid the flat of his hands against her sex, feeling the juices of her arousal soaking her thighs and smelling the sweet musk of her arousal, and she whimpered in pleasure at his touch. Slowly, he massaged her inner thigh with his right hand, as his left hand slid back and forth, back and forth, over her golden curls and the slick wet petals of her desire.

  “Ohhhhh.” It was a soft moan of surrender, and it tugged at his heartstrings and at the same time sent a hot, dizzying rush of desire coursing through his veins. God, he needed her. He needed to be inside her, plunging in and out…

  Not yet, but very soon, he thought.

  Reluctantly, he moved on, and began working his way down her legs, hands heating and caressing every inch of her soft flesh, until he reached her feet. He gently caressed the sensitive soles of her feet and then rolled his thumbs firmly along her flesh, enjoying her faint moans of arousal. What a delicious, delightful woman. He loved her sensitive and responsive flesh; he wanted to bring it to life, set her whole body on fire with arousal.

  Then they were done, and he gently slid his hands off of her, and walked over to the couples, thanking them effusively for coming as Poppy climbed off the table, clutching at her towel and draping it to hide her nakedness. They left, glowing with happiness.

  He turned back to Poppy, who was standing up now, the towel draped in front of her.

  And he crossed the room swiftly, grabbing the towel and yanking it away, and then dropping it on the floor.

  Screw self-restraint. He needed to have her now; his craving for her was like a physical pain. He wasn’t misleading her; he wanted to be with her, tonight and for many nights to come.

  As long as she was still speaking to him after she learned the truth. He should tell her. He should tell her now, before –

  She looked up at him, and her eyes were slightly glazed, and her soft lips parted. Desire flared up inside him, burning away self-restraint, burning away everything except the need to meld his flesh with hers.

  “Against the wall. Now,” he said roughly, backing her up and pressing her against the smooth plaster wall with the hard length of his body, and then he sank to his knees. He traced kisses down her stomach, tongue circling her navel and dipping in, and she cried out in pleasure.

  Then he kissed lower, tongue tracing circles on her sensitive flesh, as he moved towards the prize, the triangle of neatly trimmed golden curls. He breathed in the heavenly scent of her arousal, and then buried his face between her legs, spreading her open with his fingers, and she cried out and clut
ched at his hair.

  His tongue slid between the wet folds as he sucked at her, drinking in the sweet-tart juices, spreading her lips wide open so he could thrust his tongue inside her.

  “Ohhhh, yes,” she moaned, and he gently stroked the hood of her clitoris with his thumb as her voice rose in a wordless wail of hungry, desperate need.

  It was all for him. She wanted him, needed him as much as he needed her.

  His heart pounded in his chest, dizzy with desire as he slid the hood of her clitoris back to expose the tender bud and closed his mouth around it, hot and hungry and sucking hard.

  “Yessss….please, yes…” Good God in heaven. The noises she made. They were delicious. They were driving him mad.

  He slid two fingers inside her, moving up the inside of her vaginal wall until he stroked the spot that made her scream aloud and tighten her fingers in his hair. He sucked harder and at the same time pumped his fingers into her with rhythmic thrusts until she cried out aloud and shuddered convulsively, orgasm rocking her body, and he lapped up the sweet moisture with a firm, strong tongue before slowly pulling away.