The_Cupcake_Cowboy

by Lissa

  Jackson wandered around and peeked into the kitchen. Vintage baking pans hung on every available space. There were mixing bowls, utensil crocks of spatulas, wooden spoons, and whisks.

  He loved the colorful and eclectic space. She was normally buttoned down and very conservative, but here, her home was her safe place, where she felt most like herself. He never saw her in any other color beyond black pants and a white shirt, but here she was in purple. Color infused nearly every space.

  “What music do you listen to?” he asked, loud enough so she could hear him from wherever she was in the house. As he’d looked around, she’d vanished.

  She came into the room with her hair pulled up in back with a few strands curling around her face. She was beautiful to him, every inch of her. They were lovers and she treated him as such. She was comfortable with him, at ease in her home as though he belonged there. “Music? All kinds I guess. You’ll probably laugh at me.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  “Eighties. Rock-A-Billy. The Beatles are special too. My mom had been a huge fan. I grew up listening to them, whether I wanted to or not.”

  She had the prettiest blush across her cheeks when she said that. “I’d have never guessed but some of it fits with the paint splattered designs in your living room. You’re a little young for that, aren’t you?”

  “Sweet talker.” Cass shrugged.

  “Do you dance around naked while you clean the house too?”

  “Maybe one day you’ll find out.”

  Their banter was fun and they could go on with it for hours. He enjoyed how easy she made it for him to fit with her, how accepting she was with him. Their age difference never came up in conversation, but he was aware of it, keenly so. He knew he could be immature at times, and the way he liked to fly off the handle… She gave him space, but she didn’t let him get away with it.

  And his business helped him grow up more than anything else could have. He was responsible, for himself, for the people who worked for him, even for his sister to a point.

  “Jackson —”

  “Cass —”

  They spoke at the same time and Jackson grinned. “Ladies first.”

  Cass took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about our conversation on the way back from the ranch.” She headed into the kitchen. “You want anything? Coffee, water, tea, beer? I guess before dawn is the wrong time for a beer. My internal clock seems to be a bit off.”

  “No. You’ll get used to it,” he said, but when she shrugged and got a beer out of the fridge, he changed his mind. “On second thought, I’ll take one of those.” He looked at the dark brown bottle in his hand. “Coffee Porter?”

  “Best of both worlds?” she offered lightly by way of explanation.

  “True. And a woman who doesn’t drink light.”

  “No. If you’ve taken the time to notice, I don’t seem to have a predilection for anything light.”

  Jackson smiled and bent to nuzzle Cass’ neck. “I’ve not only noticed, but I’ve also felt, tasted, teased every inch of you.” He pulled her into his body, her soft flesh, her lush hips pushed his limits. He kissed up to her hairline and back down to her collarbone. She moaned and tilted her head, giving him more access. “I’m a baker,” he whispered after licking her skin. “And it turns me on that you don’t like light anything. You’re not shy about your love of food and you have no reason to be. You’re not an idle person. You’re always going, working, living. You’re full and exciting and delicious.”

  “We ah… We can talk later.”

  He popped the top on his beer and took a healthy swallow. “No, we can’t.”

  Another sigh and Cass nodded. She followed suit with her own beer then pulled out a chair at her diner style table and sat on the padded, sparkly pink vinyl seat. The top of the table had the same sparkles but was black instead of the pink. Something about her eclectic taste made him smile. She was as much a contradiction as he was.

  “I’m scared. You were right about that. I probably do have the market cornered. I’m terrified.”

  Jackson knew it wasn’t an easy admission for her. “I know. Is it even something you want to do? Have your own place again?” Jackson hooked a foot around the leg of the chair opposite her and tugged it out. “I should have asked you before issuing the challenge. If the answer is no, then we could have avoided all this. But if the answer is yes, then…” He left the statement open for her to fill in the blank.

  “The answer is yes. Deep down inside, yes, I want my own space again. I see Samantha and I see you and I see the success you both have and I want that. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. My shop never got off the ground good enough for it, but oh yes, I want it. Some days I can almost smell it, taste it. Other days, it seems impossible.”

  “Well, it’s definitely not impossible.”

  “No, I know it’s not. At least that’s how I feel right now. The energy and chaos of the kitchens, yours and Samantha’s… God, I miss that. I didn’t have it for long, but I miss it. I fed off it, lived off it. I was fulfilling my dreams and then they were gone.”

  “They’re not gone, you just need to be open enough, baby. Life doesn’t always follow the plan we set, the rules we follow. By the book isn’t always the right way.”

  Cass nodded. She fiddled with the beer bottle label and it was a long moment of silence before she spoke again. “When I was in your truck tonight, I could see that. I wasn’t open enough with my bakery. I wasn’t open enough with you when you came to me about wanting to start yours up. It had to be a certain way and you had to be of a certain caliber of talent or certain standing in your education to do those things. I had all of it, but couldn’t make it work. You barely had any of it and Samantha had none of it and look at the two of you? It works. You have a passion for where you live, how you live, how you work. You think outside the box and she has built something on a family tradition. You both also focus on one thing. I preach that, but I didn’t practice it. I thought I had to have something for everyone, but I don’t. I wanted to cater to every taste, but I don’t want that anymore.”

  Jackson couldn’t stop the grin. She was lit up, from the inside out as she talked. She became animated, gesturing with her hands, smiling, really getting into what she was saying. This was the woman he’d always expected was lurking beneath the put together pastry arts teacher. This was the woman who’d been inside his cupcake truck tonight and she was talking about herself with that desire.

  Looking at her, listening to her, he realized, he was completely in love with her. It wasn’t a surprising realization, not really. He’d suspected it before he left her class and again when she’d come to the truck a few weeks ago and yet again when she stood toe to toe with his father in the barn. But as he sat in her kitchen, in the wee hours of the morning, drinking coffee beer… The words were on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t think either of them was ready for them to be spoken out loud.

  “Earlier tonight,” she continued, “you offered me a chance to work with you some more and I balked at the idea, at least inside. But I think I’d like to take you up on it. I have one condition though.”

  “Name it.”

  “You have to try and patch things up with your father. I think you’d —”

  He interrupted her. “It’s already been done,” he stated proudly.

  “It has? When? How?”

  “About a week ago. I wanted to tell you immediately, but you wouldn’t answer my calls.” She blushed at the reminder of ignoring him. “I made some special cupcakes for him. Whiskey and cherry cola. He had two.”

  Jackson went on to explain about his conversation with his father, how it started out as an argument and ended with his father’s reasons why he’d been against Jackson leaving the ranch.

  “So he had dreams of leaving, too?”

  “Yeah. None of us ever knew. No one except Mama.”

  “And she became his dream. That’s sweet, if you think a
bout it. Nothing was more important to him than her and being with her.”

  “I wish I understood why she wouldn’t leave with him though.”

  “It was a different time. They were a very different generation than we are. Family and heritage meant everything. I think some parts of that are slowly coming back in the world.”

  “Maybe so. He did ask me to bring more of the cupcakes out to the ranch and maybe even try to make some with beer for the hands.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  Those words, the ones he’d wanted from his father meant everything coming from Cass. His father would look at him a little differently now, but he’d never say the words Jackson had wanted for so long.

  Cass saying them though was just as important. He was successful in his own right and he knew that. His customers and the people who worked for him proved it every day. His sister was happy for him and proud of him, but she wasn’t impartial and though he and Cass were lovers, she was still and always would be impartial in matters like this.

  “How is it going to work?” she asked after taking another swig of her beer. Was the alcohol her fortification?

  “Working with me?” He hadn’t really given it too much thought before he’d told her it was what he wanted. It was a good idea though and he wasn’t going to take it back. He spoke off the top of his head. “You’d be like an intern.” Her raised brow told him she didn’t agree.

  “You know that between us, I have more experience than you.”

  “Don’t make me say it, Cass.” Don’t make me remind you that I have more experience with making it work than you. She nodded and glanced away.

  “So I’m to be the student.” Statement, not question. She still wasn’t looking at him, but one touch, his finger under her chin, and her eyes locked with his.

  “Yes. In this, yes. Baby, I’m trying to help you. I bet you could go intern with Sam, too.” She looked sad, almost embarrassed. She was fragile when it came to this and he hated it. She’d need thicker, tougher skin to make it beyond the critics she’d face. He’d be her biggest fan, but just as she wouldn’t mince words with him, he would do her the same courtesy. “I’m trying to help you.”

  Cass nodded and the tears that pooled in her eyes made his heart seize. He set his beer down, scooted his chair closer and spread his legs to capture her knees between them. He didn’t want her getting up and walking away. He held her with his hands on her thighs and he did his damnedest not to squeeze, not to slide them around her hips, not to pull her into his lap. This needed to be settled first. It would run around her brain until it was, and once they started getting busy, he didn’t want anything to get in the way of their pleasure.

  “I know you are. I’m used to swallowing my pride,” she said, her voice a little shaky and quiet. “I’m used to needing help. I had to have it when I needed a job.”

  “It’s not about swallowing pride, but I can see where it would seem like it. I think this will be good, baby. You’ll meet some new people, interact, get your face and name in front of them. You’ll start building a small customer base for when you do take that plunge into something of your own.”

  “Did you do that?”

  “I did. I worked with Sam some. I didn’t make anything, don’t worry, but I worked the counter several mornings a week, got to know some of her regulars. Eventually, I put out some of my cupcakes for the late morning crowd. After a while, when I got my truck, some of those people followed me. It was a process but I learned a lot in how to deal with and handle people.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, like if you can handle some stressed out working mom at seven in the morning before she’s had her coffee and make her smile by the time she’s done placing her order, you’ve done really good.”

  Cass laughed and it was the second most beautiful sound she made when she was with him. The first? When she called out his name during orgasm. And if he kept touching her, kept trying to soothe her with the steady strokes on her thighs, he was going to lose his mind. He’d been hard since the afternoon, hard since she stepped up into the truck, hard since he walked through her front door. He’d been sporting a hard-on for hours and it was time to do something about it.

  “Okay. I’ll…” She sighed. The sound was loud and exasperated and he knew he had her. If he needed proof, it was in the look in her eyes; indulgent, defeated, and thrilled. “I’ll intern with you a few times a week.”

  “Good girl.” He inched his hands higher but when she spoke again, he ceased the move.”

  “I’ve also been thinking that I should pick something or just a couple of somethings rather than everything.”

  “Probably a good idea.” His voice was rougher than he’d intended it to be. His brain was all about fucking her.

  He wanted to know if she’d come when she took her shower before. He wanted to know if he was the only one still riding the edge of sanity. She must have picked up on it because her eyes changed from uncertain to full on lust in the space of heartbeat.

  “Jackson,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, baby?” He couldn’t keep his fingers from curving around her hips and sliding up to the waistband of her pants.

  “Wanna fuck?”

  “Goddamn,” he breathed. He tugged her out of her chair and had her pants down before she could respond. He lowered his head and sniffed, then groaned. Her arousal was heady, potent, and he wanted to dive right on in.

  He stood as well and with more coordination than he thought possible in his current condition, he had her shirt off over her head and her bottoms down to her ankles, helped by the push of his boot between her legs. “How strong is the table?” he asked even as he gave it a shake to test it.

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “We’re about to find out.” He bent her backward on the shiny surface and helped her slide up until her legs dangled off the end. At the last second he’d grabbed both beer bottles. “Hold these.”

  He stripped his t-shirt off and popped the button on his jeans. Hooking his boot around the chair leg again, he brought it closer and sat. Her legs were over his shoulders and his mouth was on her cunt in not time at all. No prep. No preamble. No words. Just his lips and tongue assaulting her.

  Her hips lifted off the slick table and he gave no quarter. The harder she bucked, the more determined his sucking, his licking, his tongue fucking. The second he centered on her clit, she pounded the beer bottles on the table in time with him. She said nothing, but grunted and whimpered. Her thighs trembled against his head and the more he worked her over, the wetter she became.

  She wasn’t the fluff and sweetness she’d been with him the first time. There was no aid of sugar coating. She was musky, heady, real. She was slippery, smooth, and made his mouth water for more. Hints of fruit clung to her and not for the first time, he was glad of his sensitive palate. It was one of the things she used to praise him for.

  If she kept banging the bottles though…

  Jackson reached for one and wrapped his hand around hers. Their fingers connected and he could feel the strain in her body through them. She was holding on by a thread and he debated plucking that thread and unraveling her or keeping it taut and holding her orgasm hostage.

  Licking through her folds, swiping every bit of liquid heat he could find only seemed to pull more from her. She was primed and he was ready.

  He slowly stood and let her legs fall gently. Her nipples pointed toward the ceiling at an angle and he promised himself he’d taste them just as soon as he could. Gravity tugged at their fullness. After fishing a condom out of his pocket, he freed his cock. He thought about letting her put the rubber on him, about feeling her hands on him, but knew if she so much as reached for him, he’d blow, so he rolled it down himself.

  “Baby. Cass, look at me.” Hazy eyes took a moment to focus on him. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. At the same time, he’d never had a type, or a wish list he was trying to fulfill. But Cass gave him passion, out
of bed first, then in bed a long time later. She teased him, played with him, pissed him off, walked away from him, met him back halfway. Every piece of her turned his crank and he aimed to keep her.

  He pulled her forward until her ass was barely on the table and he wrapped her legs around his hips. The beer bottles were plucked from her hands and tilted over each of her tits. Her back arched up off the table as the cool liquid poured over her. Her nipples strained and reached higher. Jackson planted his lips over one, sucking the dark roast flavor of the beer down his throat.

  The heat from her pussy touched his cock, even through the condom and if he’d thought he couldn’t get harder, he’d been wrong. He lifted his head, but only for the length of time it took him to aim the head at her opening. One push and he was inside. She arched again and moaned. He cursed at the heavenly feel and turned his oral attention to her other nipple.

  He fucked her with small thrusts. Her thighs tightened around him and she fucked him back. It was a give and take with Cass. In business. In sex. He imagined day in and day out life would be the same and if he could do this with her every night, he wouldn’t need anything else.

  She gripped him, held him, soaked him in warmth. He held her at the waist, drove into her with fierce determination, and licked at the beer covering her chest, under her breasts, along her ribs. He couldn’t bend enough to get what had pooled in her belly button but that was fine. He’d get that later.

  A little foreplay leading to the next round. And there would be a next round. Several more before dawn if he had his way.

  “Touch yourself,” he whispered against her soft flesh. Her hand moved immediately and he backed his mouth off to watch, to give her access to her clit. He wanted her to get herself off while he fucked her. He wanted to see her fingers stroking her sex, teasing, playing, fondling.