“Is that what was on Angie’s cake? I want it to taste just like hers. Can you do that? Make it taste exactly like hers?”
The plea was so earnest that Bailey fought not to laugh. “I’m pretty sure it was buttercream I used on hers and yes, I can make it taste just like that.”
“Oh, good. And I want roses all over it in pink and red.”
“All right. Let me get one of my pattern books and you can see if there’s something that fits the vision you have in your head. I’ll just be a second.”
Bailey stood, walked behind the counter and knelt down, trying to compose herself, trying to get back the professionalism she was quickly losing. She didn’t know why she was losing it, except for the fact that images of Aidn kept drifting in and out of her mind. It wasn’t marriage she was seeing though, it was a collaring, which was dumb as she’d only been with him once and he’d walked away. It was just a feeling, a gut feeling, that he was the one. It was a feeling that pissed her off.
A few deep breaths later, she stood and pasted another smile on her face. She grabbed some wedding cake books and a couple of magazines and set them on the table for Barbie and Ken to begin going through. “I have some cake samples if you’d like to try them.”
“No, that’s fine. I know what the chocolate tasted like and that’s what I want. I don’t need to taste anything else,” Barbie said absently, her eyes and fingers devouring the pages of cakes in front of her. Ken simply sat there, helpless, looking even more uncomfortable in the silence that ensued. Bailey tried to give him an encouraging and kind smile but wasn’t sure she pulled it off.
“This one!”
Bailey looked at the picture that the bride was pointing to and inwardly groaned. The cake consisted of four stacked tiers, with cascades of icing roses from the top to the bottom and gum-paste petals sprinkled along the base.
“And I want alternating red and pink roses.”
“And the scattered, loose petals?”
“Can you make them white? Or would it be better if they were a color?”
“I think either would look lovely, but it’s whatever you want. It’s your big day.”
“Yes, it is,” she squealed.
“And what do you think?” Bailey asked, turning toward the still-silent groom.
“Oh he doesn’t care. He likes whatever I like.”
Sheepishly he shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head. For some reason the gesture caused a small twinge of sadness in Bailey. Her husband had been like that. Agreeing to whatever she wanted, never having much to say about anything. His nonchalant attitude about work, social plans, life and her…it was just more than she could take for the rest of her life. Now that she’d found heat and passion in a whole different personal lifestyle, she couldn’t regret having left him and striking out on her own.
She did wish things had worked out differently with Aidn though, that it had been more than just a one afternoon deal.
After filling out some paperwork and taking a deposit, Bailey walked the happy couple out and then returned to the kitchen. She needed to bake, to play. It helped her forget, to cope through tough times.
Half a bag of powdered sugar later, along with half a pound of butter, some vanilla and cream, she was feeling pretty good. Aidn hadn’t crossed her mind but three or four hundred times. Surely, that was some sort of improvement.
She didn’t hear the phone until she’d turned off the mixer. “Hello?” she said absently into the cell phone that she dug out of her pocket, spreading sugar dust everywhere on her jeans. Great.
“What are you doing Saturday night?”
“Hmmmm? And hello to you, too. Saturday night? Nothing that I know of, why?”
“Want to go to Abyss?”
No way. “Oh, no. No, I don’t.” She ran her finger along the inside of the bowl, scooping up some frosting.
“Come on. You haven’t been out of the house in two weeks.”
“Of course I have. I’ve been in the bakery and it’s been really busy. Weddings and all that, you know.”
“That’s not all you’ve been doing. You’re moping over that guy and eating icing.”
Bailey wiped the mound of icing off her finger. “I am not moping over anyone. I have been working. A lot.” And yes, eating icing. Lots and lots of it. And feeling guilty for it and feeling sad that he left and strangely motivated at the same time to work harder, create more. Anything at all really to keep from thinking about him. He touched what she’d always known was there, what she’d been hiding inside herself… Bailey stuck her tongue out at the phone in a defiant, childish gesture and refused to give him another thought…for at least the next five minutes.
“You’re going Saturday night.”
“No, really, Jen, I don’t want to go. Maybe next time.” In about ten years.
“No. I’m buying your ticket today and I’ll be by to get you at eight-thirty on Saturday night.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“I don’t care. We’re going. You need to get over that. It was one day. And only for a few hours at that. Nothing to still be thinking about.”
“You don’t understand.” Her voice sounded weak and wimpy. She hated that.
“I do understand. I’ve had one-night stands before.”
“He was different. I know he was only a one-time thing. I knew that the moment he asked me to…but… God, Jen, he was different.”
“I know, B. Has he tried to see you again?”
Bailey laughed sardonically. “No, of course not.”
“We need to go out, have a few drinks, flirt a little.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I do. I’ll pick you up on Saturday night. Dress sexy. Gotta go.” And with that, Jen was gone. Bailey looked at the phone before hanging it up. So much for her objections, but Jen was just trying to help.
She put the cell phone back in her pocket and finished adding color to the frosting. Turning on the mixer, she watched the color shift and weave through the pure white buttercream, getting lost in the swirling of the paddle. Damn. She turned off the machine. The pink wasn’t the right shade. What she had in her head was pale, just a hint of color, but enough that one could tell it was pink and not white.
Oh well. She’d try again later. It was her personal project, to perfect the shade of the frosting. It would look incredible on her chocolate fudge cake. The consistency was perfect, not too sweet, not too heavy, but light and fluffy, whipped butter and cream.
She loved the pleasure, the smiles on her customer’s faces when they bit into her cakes. It was a boost to her confidence in herself and in her chosen profession. She was finally happy, finally doing something she loved, something for herself. Though it was only just the beginning of her business, she was doing well and she had big plans for her bakery.
It had taken her a long time, but she’d finally learned after her divorce that she wasn’t so bad. She’d come to love her curvy body and the choices she’d made to improve her life. Her figure had never really been an issue before, either. Now, she was obsessing about it, about Aidn, about what kind of woman he preferred. He hadn’t acted put off by her size, had actually seemed to love her curves and full breasts, but… She wasn’t fat, but neither was she a perfect single-digit size. It had to be something else that had driven him away. Something else had to have spooked him or maybe he just hadn’t wanted more than the few hours they’d shared.
When would she stop thinking about him, stop wanting him? It had seemed so much more personal than just an afternoon of sex. The way he’d held her hair in his fist as he’d taken her from behind before they finally collapsed in her bed. It was possession. She gave herself over to him and he took her. She held nothing back as she normally did during sex, always keeping a part of herself locked away so as to not to get too close. But not with Aidn. She gave everything that afternoon, knowing it was probably going to be her only chance to be with him in that way and now…she couldn’t say if she wished she h
adn’t.
She wanted to call him, couldn’t stop fondling the business card she’d found on the floor in her kitchen, but she wasn’t about to show him how desperate she was for him. No way, no how. She should have gotten the picture loud and clear by now. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn’t get all fucked up over a one-night hunk, even one that she dreamed about constantly, one that she could still feel all over and inside her body. Yet here she was, aching for him, crying for all that he’d brought out in her and drowning herself in her work.
A glance at the clock and a deep, heartfelt sigh told her that if she didn’t drown a little more, she wasn’t going to get the Pierson cake finished and delivered by closing time.
Aidn sat outside the front of Bailey’s townhouse. What was he doing? Cutting the engine of the Jeep, he looked around the area a little.
Bailey Bakes was painted in swirls of pink, purple and brown on a wooden sign that hung from an iron rod beside the glass door. It had a touch of historical class to it. “Now or never,” he murmured, getting out and locking the Jeep’s doors. Before he could think about it again, he crossed the sidewalk and pushed open the front door, stepping inside the small bakery. A bell jingled above his head and the smell of vanilla assailed him.
“Hi, can I help…”
Bailey’s words trailed off once she raised her eyes. She was wiping her hands on an apron adorned with cupcakes and had a smudge of white across her forehead.
“Hi.”
She swallowed visibly. “What are you doing here, Aidn?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” He looked around, taking in the tiny shop, knowing his answer wasn’t adequate. His eyes lit on the front window display of three very beautiful, very different-in-design wedding cakes. He walked over, stuffing his hands in his pockets for lack of anything better to do with them other than to reach for her, to know if she was as soft and exciting to the touch as before. “Did you make these?”
“I decorated them. They aren’t really cakes.”
I really need to get the hell away from you. There was such warmth in the bakery, like coming home after school on a spring day to a house smelling of freshly baked cookies. He wasn’t a homey kind of guy, he wasn’t nostalgic, but one would never have known that if they were privy to his thoughts in that moment. Robert would be having a damn field day with this. Good-bye was on the tip of his tongue, but that’s not what came out. “What are they?”
She giggled and the sound caused something in his heart to tighten and then loosen. Big fucking danger zone.
“They’re actually made from foam that is cut and shaped, then covered with icing and fondant and decorated.”
“Huh. Learn something new every day. You do bake real cakes though, right?”
She rolled her eyes and his hand itched to spank her for the gesture. She was teasing with him, but still, the urge to bend her over his knees and yank her jeans and panties off so he could give her a good bare-hand-to-bare-ass spanking was nearly overwhelming.
“Yes, of course I do. I wouldn’t make any money otherwise.”
“Did you go to school to learn this?”
“A few years before my divorce, I started baking a lot, took some cake decorating classes. I found that I enjoyed it, that I was good at it. I took some business courses, a few pastry courses and well, here I am.”
“This is why you were so in love with the lotion, isn’t it?”
She nodded along with letting another giggle escape. He should leave, but he was going to kiss her instead.
And he did. With all the tenderness he could muster, he cupped her face with one hand and pulled her flush against his body with the other, lowering his head and kissing her surprised mouth. It was soft and gentle, a mere tasting of her.
He lifted his head long before he wanted to and looked down at her. Her eyes slowly opened to meet his. She licked her lips and he bit back a groan.
“Oh wow,” she whispered.
“Indeed,” he whispered back, tasting the corner of her mouth.
“I… That was…”
He focused his gaze on her face. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were bright with hunger She wanted him. She was aroused and hot for him just like that. In the space of a heartbeat, she’d gone from wary and business-like to lusting. It was incredibly tempting, knowing he had that kind of power over her.
“Ask me for another kiss, Bailey.”
“Please, may I have another kiss?”
“Sir.”
Her eyes widened once the word registered. He wasn’t sure why he’d put it out there, put the line in the sand, but he wouldn’t take it back. It seemed the right thing to do, just as it had when he’d taken her on her kitchen counter.
“Please, may I have another kiss, sir?”
He couldn’t explain his reaction to hearing her say “sir”…pride, power, happiness.
“I want to try something. Will you let me?”
“What?”
“I want you to close your eyes. Just listen to my voice. Trust me. Please, Bailey?”
She twisted the apron strings between her fingers and looked down at the ground. “Why?”
“In one of the books on your bookshelf you tagged a page about sensory deprivation and while I could likely find something to blindfold you with, I’d rather just ask you to close your eyes, to listen to my voice, to just talk to me and let me in.”
Aidn could see she was struggling just as much as he was with the request. She was fidgeting with her fingers, wouldn’t look at him and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were closed and his heart skipped a beat. “Good girl. Now, say it again. Say ‘sir’ again.”
She licked her lips and swallowed hard. “Sir.”
He dropped his hands from her hair and took a measured step back, taking in some air. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he leaving? Why was he leading her down a submissive path when it was all kinds of wrong for him to do so? Why couldn’t he resist her?
“Such a good girl. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but there are all kinds of stories running around. The BDSM community is rather small. But, all you need to know is that what is happening here between us is unusual for me.”
She nodded and he reached out, gently stroking her neck with the pad of his thumb, unable to resist touching her.
“You said you came to the lifestyle late. When? Do you have any experience?”
When she licked her lips, he wanted to push her to her knees and feel that tongue on his cock.
“Yes, sir. I started exploring about two years ago and joined Abyss last year.”
“How did you get it? The experience, I mean. Before you answer that, do you have any appointments? Are you expecting anyone?”
“No, sir.”
He walked to the door and turned the lock. When he was back with her, he took her by the shoulders and turned her around, walking her slowly into the kitchen area of her shop. He didn’t want anyone to walk by and see them through the front window.
She was still trusting him. He hadn’t trusted anyone in so long, in matters like this. She made him miss it.
“Talk, Bailey girl. Answer my other question now.”
“Oh. I…I joined an online lifestyle site and after a while I became friends with a couple of submissives. They invited me to a few play parties and private get-togethers.”
“But you didn’t play at the parties?”
“No. One of the dominant men kind of took me under his wing for a few months and trained me.”
“He’s not your dom, though?”
“No. He has a submissive. She was one of the girls that had invited me and he was just trying to help me learn.”
“What did he show you or do to you that you enjoyed?”
The color in her cheeks heightened to a bright pink and she began to fidget with the apron strings again. His fingers itched to tie her hands behind her back with them. He leaned back against a worktable and crossed
his arms over his chest, waiting.
“Spanking and flogging. Bondage, wax and a little sensory deprivation. He helped me to understand the dynamics of BDSM, that it was about my consent to submit and a dominant’s consent to control.”
“Do you still see him?” Aidn didn’t want the answer to that question. Just the thought of anyone spanking Bailey or touching her in any way now that he had, just…
“No, sir. I am not seeing anyone.”
But you. The words hung in the air between them. She didn’t have to say them and he didn’t have to tell her to open her eyes to know what he’d see there. Her willingness with him would be his undoing if he didn’t get it together.
He moved to stand in front of her, beside her, and finally, behind her. She leaned back against him and his nerve faltered. With his hand, he reached out and ran his fingers through the back of her hair, gripping the strands, tugging and pulling her head back. His lips touched her forehead as a gasp left her.
“Did you like the spankings, the wax play? There are things I want to do to you, things I want to show you, things I haven’t wanted with anyone in a very long time. I want to clamp your nipples and your clit. I want to bend you over my knees and spank you like a naughty schoolgirl. I want to drip wax over your thighs and belly while vibrating eggs, deep inside your holes, drive you mad. I want… I want so much.”
She was trembling and her pulse had quickened. She was breathing out of her mouth in short, ragged breaths. If he cupped her pussy, he’d find heat, find that the orgasm would shiver through her at the slightest touch. After two weeks, he could still bring her to the brink. After two weeks and how he’d left her, she would still come apart in his arms, she would still trust him, just as she had been doing these past minutes.
“But I can’t. I shouldn’t have come today. I tried. I tried to stay away. Everything about you isn’t for me, everything you make me feel, make me want isn’t for me. I…I’m sorry.”
And, for the second time in as many weeks, he ran.
Chapter Five
“Thank you for seeing me, sir.”
Pink Buttercream Frosting Page 4
