This beautiful moment.
Once he finally gets the slick piece of rubber to encase his shaft, he steps forward towards Sydney’s outstretched body and rubs his hardened tip against her drenched core. He takes his time, savoring the way her body shivers at every pass.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
“God, just fuck me, please,” his Angel exclaims, her sanity barely left intact by his teasing.
“My name is not God, Angel,” he teases with a grin.
Just as she is about to spew her retort, he slides his dick into her heated center and her demeanor melts like butter - becoming soft and pliable.
Dylan takes his time to focus on the way his cock looks as it glides in and out of her beautiful pussy; glistening in its wetness.
“Fuck, Angel. You feel so good. I need to move.”
Sydney can murmur no words, just submits her response by wrapping her legs against his waist, swiftly jerking him closer towards her body with the heels of her feet against his backside. Her echoing moan coupled with her movements alerts Dylan to the face that she, too, wants their love-making to be hard and fast.
Thankful for his height, Dylan reaches out and grabs the sides of the butcher block island, far above Sydney’s head, trapping her body beneath his. Using his new leverage, he pounds against her in a fevered pace and she matches each of his thrusts as she reaches above her head and digs her nails into his arms.
One of the most pleasurable pains Dylan had felt.
All too soon, Dylan feels that tingling at his lower spine and he works to hold back his eruption until Sydney reaches her peak.
“I’m going to come, baby. I need you to get there.”
“I’m there. I’m there. Shit!” she cries before her body shudders against his.
Resting his body closer to Sydney’s, Dylan moves at a new angle, pushing himself towards his release. He slows down his thrusts and kisses the sweet and soft skin at the base of her neck. The taste of salt mixed with her sweetness expels a new feeling inside Dylan as he loses himself deep within her body, shaking as he expels himself.
He sits up slightly and rests his elbows on each side of Sydney’s satisfied face.
“That was…” Dylan begins, but a car honking outside the shop interrupts him.
It only takes a second, but Dylan immediately notices the change in Sydney when the spell cast over them is broken. Her face changes from one filled with desire to one of fear and humiliation.
Dylan stands back from the island, releasing himself from her body, as Sydney jumps down from her perch and wraps her arms around her body self-consciously.
“We can’t do this again,” Sydney whispers.
“Syd,”
“No,” she adds more forcefully. “You need to leave. This isn’t going to work out. Thank you for your time.”
And standing there in all of her naked glory she dismisses him – from her shop and her life like day-old bread.
Dylan searches Sydney’s eyes, but finds no trace of the seductress he just saw moments earlier. All that remains is a scared woman using anger to shield herself from her emotions.
“Have it your way,” Dylan retorts as he tugs his pants on and bends to grab his shirt.
As he heads towards the back door, he pauses momentarily when he hears the soft sobs coming from the kitchen and it takes every ounce of self-control he has to steel himself and not return to her.
To himself, Dylan murmurs, “This is just the beginning, Angel.”
He leaves the bakery and stalks towards his car where he informs his Agent in Charge of the temporary lapse in supervision for their victim.
“Don’t worry, Bennett. I have someone who can keep a watch on Ms. Connelly.”
“Thank you, sir.”
With those three simple words, Dylan starts his car and heads towards Asheville, away from the bakery, away from Carson and away from the infuriating woman who gave him the hottest sex of his life.
YDNEY HAS BEEN WALLOWING in misery since she forced Dylan to leave the bakery that night a few weeks prior. She knew that she never should have succumbed to her desire for the man; hell, she barely even knew him. He could have a girlfriend or even be married, for Christ’s sake. But something about him appealed to more than just her body…he appealed to her soul. She wasn’t one for one night stands, but Sydney had been drawn to him since the moment he turned in that damn application, and now all she could do was flounder in her own despair of the mess she has made.
There is a problem with having a depressed baker, especially one who puts everything he or she has into their job – they end up making shitty concoctions. She is so lost inside of her own mind this morning that she almost uses salt instead of sugar in her muffin mix: a rookie mistake she hasn’t made since she was four and just learning her craft.
On top of the problem of her barely-edible work, she hasn’t even entertained the thought of hiring any of the other applicants for the head chef’s position at The Grill. It’s as if her brain knows that no one is going to measure up to Dylan’s abilities in the kitchen – cooking, or otherwise.
“Fucking great,” Sydney mutters to herself as she finally pulls her third batch of strawberry scones from the oven and tastes one.
To her surprise, the flavor is exactly right, and she is thankful the morning isn’t a complete wash.
Her thirty minute opening alarm sounds in the background and Sydney glances out the front window just in time to see a blue sedan drive slowly down the street, and she can’t help but feel her heart rate surge in quick palpitations. The car has been coming by every day for the past three weeks, and at first she thought it was Dylan, but she quickly dismissed that notion when she saw that the driver was only half the size of the man who she couldn’t dispel from her thoughts. No, she recognizes that her heart is racing in fear – not lust and the other feelings Dylan stirs inside her. Fear that someone is watching her.
Luckily, she only sees the car first thing in the morning and it never lingers. However, her phone rings and this morning, she finds she has very little time to dwell on the mysterious vehicle.
Noticing her mother’s name flashing across the screen, Sydney answers quickly.
“Good morning, Mama.”
“Mornin’, Sweets. What is on the menu today?”
Sydney glances around the shop, grasping for something to give her an idea, something that will please her mother and her legacy.
“Um….I’m, I’m not sure, Mom.”
“Is everything alright?”
Knowing she can’t lie to her mother again, Sydney gives the best answer she can with the least amount of information. Something she has always been very good at.
“I’m just in a bit of a rut. The Grill has my brain in overload since I can’t seem to nail down a head chef.”
“Oh. Would you like me to help?”
Weary of her mother stepping in to assist, she quickly works to diffuse the situation. Sydney adamantly refuses as kindly as she can without sounding ungrateful.
“Ok, well you know I’m here to help you find the right person if need be.”
“I know, Mama.”
“Any who, that’s not why I called. I want to make sure you’ll be at dinner Sunday night. Your father and I have something we’d like to talk with you all about. We’re very excited.”
“Oh? Is it that trip to the Bahamas you’ve been wanting to go on?”
“Now, wouldn’t that be a nice surprise,” her mother chuckles into the line. “Nothing like that, though no less exciting. So we’ll see you Sunday?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.”
“Good. Have a better day, Sweets. And don’t worry, we’ll find the right partner for you.” Her mother’s double meaning of the word ‘partner’ is woven throughout her maternal tone.
“I know. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, Sweets.”
As Sydney ends her call, she rubs her hand idly across her forehea
d in frustration. How is she going to explain to her mom that she slept with the only candidate that met her standards? She can’t. For all her parents know, Sydney is just a twenty-three year-old virgin, living alone and working non-stop. They never ask if she goes on dates or if she is romantically involved. They would just as rather she join a nunnery. Or maybe that is just her father, she reckons. Her mother has started talking about grandbabies ever since her best friend Nancy’s daughter had given birth about two months ago.
“Enough fretting,” Sydney says to herself. “Let’s get this show on the road and you can actually take a day off tomorrow and Sunday.”
Typically, Sydney opened Wake and Bake from 9:00am until noon on Saturdays, but every third Saturday she closes shop. Her mother used to do the same so that she could attend her book club meetings, but Sydney continues the tradition so that she can have some sort of life outside of the bakery, though that generally only entails cleaning her house.
But not tomorrow, Sydney thought. No, tomorrow I’m going to go to Asheville and find someone to take me home.
SYDNEY WAKES UP EARLY on Saturday and follows her cleaning schedule thoroughly, leaving herself enough time to run over to a cute little dress shop in town. Unbeknownst to many in Carson, Sydney’s world-famous fashion designing sister secretly stocks some of the outfits from her runway shows here. Cassidy rarely uses stick thin models in her shows, opting for average-sized women instead, so Sydney is grateful that she can fit into some of the artistic creations.
Strolling into the shop, she waves at Angela, a student from the local high school, who stands behind the counter folding a few t-shirts. Sydney immediately makes a beeline back to the dress rack that has Cassidy’s logo strategically placed above. As she sifts through the various garments, a bright green dress catches her eye and she tugs the hanger free. It is a simple, skater style dress with a fitted top and short flowing skirt, but what draws her attention is the way the straps transform into thin strands that criss-cross across the back into a low-v.
So, not a dress I can wear with a bra, she thinks. Thank goodness for pasties.
As the day settles into night, Sydney takes her time getting ready. She leaves her hair down and gently curls the ends before twisting it over one shoulder, leaving her back exposed. She gives herself a bronze smoky eye to compliment the green hue of the dress, and as she eyes herself in the mirror, she has to admit that she looks good. Damn good.
The Fall weather is brisk, and because of the chilly air, she opts for her brown dress coat and a pair of nude pumps.
Sydney takes one last look around her houses and closes her front door, pushing back a single thought as she moves towards her car.
I wish Dylan could see me made up like this.
The drive to Asheville is a long one, but her excitement to go out powers her onward. There is a particular bar she likes to frequent when she comes to town as she has known the bartender since high school, and Zeke always ensures no one is going to mess with her or her drinks.
She parks her car in the clustered gravel lot, having finally found an available space in the crowded lot. With a deep breath, Sydney exits her car and steels herself as she makes her way towards the door.
As she saunters into the pub, she takes notice of the male eyes skimming up and down her body as she walks towards the bar. Even in the darkness of the cavernous room, she knows her body is being appreciated and that makes a small smile creep up on the corner of her lips.
“Syd!” the tall blond shouts from the other side of the wooden bar.
Zeke gestures her over to where he stands, reaching across the counter to grab her in a tight embrace.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m doing well, Zeke. Thank you. Are you working alone tonight?” Sydney asks, wondering at the apparent absence of Zeke’s boyfriend.
“Naw, you know Forrest. He’s around here somewhere. We’re a server short, so he’s been running around catching up the tables. Do you want your usual?”
“Yes, please.”
Zeke quickly makes her customary Sea Breeze, a drink light enough that she can have a few and still drive home. He finishes up the concoction and places it before her with a wink. Sydney brings the chilled glass to her lips and savors the cool beverage as it slides down her throat.
“So, what’s up on the store front, Doll?”
Sydney expels a deep breath before explaining to Zeke all of the issues she’s been having with the bakery.
He whistles, low and slow, in response.
“Man, sounds like you have your work cut out for you.”
“Are you sure I can’t steal you away?”
“Oh, doll. You know that you and I would NOT work well together. Do you remember that group project we had in high school? We were both suspended for a week!”
Sydney laughs as she remembers how their group project had ended up setting the science lab on fire because they couldn’t agree on who would follow what procedure. Everything within the instructions had been triplicated…incorrectly. Needless to say, she and Zeke spent an entire week in in-school suspension where they formed an unlikely bond.
“I don’t think Forrest would let you up and go either.”
“You’re probably right. I am sorry, Syd. You know that I’d help you if I could. Everything will work out. Why don’t you hand me your bag and go dance your cute butt off for a little while. Relax.”
Smiling at her friend, Sydney grabs her bag and coat from the hook under the bar and places them into her friend’s waiting grip before sauntering off the stool and making her way towards the dance floor.
Sydney had always loved to dance, and she suddenly feels herself losing all her worries once the music’s beat strums through her veins. Time escapes her as she swivels and sways her hips to three…four…five songs, barely noticing the strong hands at her hips, not consciously registering the lips just below her ear, suckling on her neck.
No, Sydney finds herself in another world when the music is on. It isn’t until Zeke himself comes over to pry the man’s arms away does she realize she had been practically molested on the dance floor.
“You ok, Syd?” Zeke asks as she rights herself
“Yea, I just…was lost in my own world.”
Zeke extends his hand, returning her bag and coat, casually draping his free arm over her shoulder and leading her out through the back door.
“I know that look so well I could recognize it a mile away,” he adds, remembering her otherworldly gaze.
He used to rag on her for it when it would happen during one of their classes.
As she steps towards her car, she shrugs off the coat Zeke had placed on her shoulders and turns quickly when she hears his astonished whistle.
“Those aren’t going to be pretty in the morning.”
“What? What isn’t going to be pretty?” she demands as she slumps down into her driver’s seat and flips down the visor to expose a mirror.
Her gasp of surprise and humiliation echoes in her tiny Honda Civic.
“Oh my gosh! I haven’t had a hickey since I was thirteen!”
“Well, now you have about four. Making up for lost time?” he chuckles as she continues to inspect the bruising skin.
“This is not funny, Ezekiel! Shit! I have a dinner with my family tomorrow and I can’t skip out on it.”
“Then count your lucky stars that you can pull off turtlenecks and scarves. Most women can’t. It’ll be fine, Syd. They’ll disappear in a few days.”
She huffs as she slumps back in her seat, slamming the visor shut as if the mirror were the sneaky succubus himself.
She glances at her good friend just as he leans in and smirks at her.
“It was good to see you, Doll. Don’t be a stranger.”
“It was good to see you, too. Let’s plan on something soon, ok? Even if I have to be the third wheel.”
Zeke chuckles and says, “It’s a date,” before shutting her door and tapping on the roof.
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She starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot, hoping against all hope that luck is really on her side.
She is wrong.
Luck is definitely not on her side.
AS THE BEAUTIFUL BRUNETTE wearily steps into the private area of Angie’s Diner with her brother’s friend, Logan, Sydney’s heart lurches. She knows instinctively that there is some inexplicable connection between this girl and herself. When the mysterious guest turns her eyes to the group - eyes that are strikingly familiar - Sydney feels a punch to her gut and her father confirms the connection just moments later. Avery, the mysterious guest, is Sydney’s half-sister.
Now here she sits at the table, ever the good daughter her parents had taught her to be, and offers up the seat next to her so that Avery and Logan can sit beside each other. Sydney doesn’t converse much during the meal. She offers a few one word responses, but of course, Cassidy hones in on her unique fashion choices for the night.
“What’s up with the turtleneck and wool skirt, Syd?” she whispers from across the table.
“Oh, I…um…laundry day,” she responds, hoping that it explains her homely attire and glasses.
Well it doesn’t really explain her glasses, but she figures if she is going to dress so completely unlike herself, then she might as well look like a different person entirely.
Cassidy doesn’t press further, but squints her eyes skeptically in Sydney’s direction.
The rest of the dinner breezes by as Avery tells the story of how her mother left her to fend for herself under the disapproving eye of her malevolent grandmother. How she had lost her only sister and not one, but two fiancés. How she had been all alone, that is, until she met Logan.
Sydney tries to hold back and refrain, but she feels love for her sister blossoming in her heart. It isn’t her story of loss or of her upbringing: it is that Avery is a part of her father, and that solidifies everything to her. But her emotions are conflicting. She also feels the stirrings of a deep-seated sense of betrayal from her father: an emotion that she has never felt before, and it is quickly overtaking her body.
Coming Consumed: Welcome to Carson, Book Three Page 4
