I was completely unprepared for this turn of events. Everything was executed perfectly on my side. I slapped him, called him out on his infidelity, and didn’t allow his blinding good looks to deter me in any way. I felt powerful storming into his office and telling him off the way I did. But now, now I feel like a meek little church mouse as I cower in the corner of his office. He isn’t married. That was not something I was expecting to discover and definitely not something I was prepared to have to contemplate. I mean, what did we share together other than a hot fling at a wedding? There wasn’t anything deeper going on here, was there? No, surely not. No one develops relationships from slutty wedding sex encounters. That’s not how those things work. If they did, Joey would be in a new relationship every other month. My eyes slowly trail up his long lean body and stop on his eyes that are curiously watching me. He has regained his perch on his desk and hasn’t said a word as I fidget with my fingers, debating on where to start. Fuck. I owed him a major apology. I clear my throat and step closer to him, seeing him shift a bit on his desk.
“So, I was wondering if it was at all possible for you to completely forget that I came storming in here like a crazy person and assaulted you. If not, I’m not entirely above groveling.”
He tilts his head and strokes his jaw with his hand. Pushing off the desk, he bridges the gap between us. “Well, you did think I was a married man who was fucking around behind his wife’s back. I think that slap was justified from your point of view.” His hand brushes my hair off my shoulder, the small gesture causing my stomach to knot up. “Besides, I would hate to completely forget how incredibly sexy you looked all feisty and pissed off.”
I laugh slightly. “You thought that was sexy?”
He nods and licks his lip as he stares at my mouth. I step into him, feeling his hands grip tightly onto my jeaned hips. “Well then, I could rip you a new one for acting like a total dipshit after you fucked me. It’s your call.” His chest heaves rapidly as I run my hands up his arms and stop on his biceps, squeezing once before flicking my eyes up to his. Hard muscles tense against my hands.
“Do your worst,” he whispers.
My fingers trail up the length of his tie. Yelling at him to make him want me was tempting. Really tempting. But he had technically already apologized for his behavior, and right now, I didn’t want to yell. Not unless he was fucking it out of me.
Gripping his tie in my fist, I pull him back behind his desk and push him down into his chair. “I choose groveling,” I declare as his eyes widen. Kneeling before him and steadying my fingers, I slip them into his belt, loosening it and unzipping his khakis.
“Dylan.”
My hand grips his length and I pull him out, flicking my tongue across the head and glancing up into his eyes that are now glazed with lust. My tongue swirls around the head and down the shaft, licking every inch of him. I trail soft kisses along the seam as his eyes stay glued on my mouth, his lips parting and his breath coming out in quick bursts.
“That’s so hot, love. Suck it hard.”
I smile and wrap my lips around him, guiding him to the back of my throat as he lets out a hiss. I want to take him completely, but that isn’t going to be possible. Not with what this man is working with. Wrapping my hand around the base, I stroke him with my mouth, sucking and licking as his hands find my hair.
“Jesus. Just like that. Don’t stop.”
His hands guide me at the pace he wants. Up and down, licking around the head before I take him in as far as I can. My hand strokes him tightly, gliding up and down his slick length as my mouth follows its path. His fingers brush down my temple, along my cheek and across my jaw. I keep my eyes on his face, seeing the muscles in his neck tense with each suck and his head fall back onto his chair when I lick the tip. He moans, thrusting his hips into my movements as his hands hold my head in place. I never was a huge fan of blow jobs, but the noises coming from Reese right now are making this insanely hot. I wasn’t just getting him off, I was getting myself off. My thighs are pressed tightly together as I kneel in front of him and I know without a doubt that my panties are drenched. He pulses against my tongue. Sucking hard, I pull him deep and let him hit the back of my throat as I relax my muscles.
“Fuck. I’m gonna come.”
I pump him with my hand and feel his hot release shoot into my mouth, swallowing and feeling even more powerful in this moment than I did when I stormed into this office. His legs tense under me and his throaty grunts cause me to suck harder, pulling every bit out of him. He loosens his grip on my hair and gently brushes it out of my face.
“Holy fucking shit.”
I sit back on my heels and smile at my minor victory. He’s still desperately hard and I want to do it again, and again. Making him come apart with my mouth has been one of the hottest things I’ve ever done. Plus he tastes good. Really good. I glance up into his eyes as his breathing steadies, his chest pulling at the buttons on his dress shirt.
“I’m not sure what’s sexier, you yelling at me or you groveling,” he says through a grin that’s as infectious as it is adorable. I smile and bite my lip as my phone beeps in my pocket. I quickly slip it out.
Juls: I came. Did you? Time to go, sweets.
“Thanks for lunch,” I say playfully, his smile still on his face as he resituates himself and stands, offering me his hand. I place mine in his and stand on my wobbly legs. Holy crap, I felt like I just came.
“That was incredible.” He presses his lips against my softly, lingering for a moment as my phone beeps again.
“Shit. Sorry, I have a bakery to run. Later, handsome.” I pull away from him and turn to see him shaking his head. “Oh by the way, I’d like my panties back.” I keep my hand on the doorknob while waiting for his response.
“Would you?” His voice is thick and causes me to clamp my thighs together. My urge to throw him back onto his desk and ride him is stronger than ever.
I nod and regain my composer. “Yes, I would. That pair happened to be a favorite of mine.”
He runs a hand through his hair as he smooths out his tie with the other. “Too bad, they’re also a favorite of mine.” He arches his brow and I grip the doorknob tighter. Holy fuck. “I suppose I could get you another pair. Although, I’m not accustomed to perusing lingerie shops, and I might get the wrong ones. Maybe you should go with me.”
Oh man. The thought of Reese buying me panties is unbelievably hot. I can picture him, walking around and studying each pair with his curious stare, his hands raking through his hair when he can’t find the ones he’s looking for. I smile at the image but quickly shake it off. I shouldn’t seem too affected by this guy. “I’m sorry, aren’t I standing in the office of a CPA? You’re a partner right?” He nods, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches me. “Then a smart guy like you who I’m assuming didn’t fuck his way to the top shouldn’t have a problem finding them on his own. Unless, you did fuck your way to the top?” I cock an eyebrow and grin as he shakes his head, trying desperately to hold back his smile. “You can send them by way of your flour delivery boy.” His grin bursts through as I quickly exit his office, my cheeks burning from my flushed state.
**
“Well?” Juls asks as we make our way back to the bakery.
“Well nothing. He’s not married apparently.” I keep a straight face but feel like I’m radiating from the inside out. Giving Reese a lunch time blow job has made my week and I can’t get his reaction to it out of my head. His widened eyes as I pulled him out, his face when he came, the feel of his hands in my hair. I shake my head and snap out of my stupor.
She laughs. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to here. But I’m your best friend, Dylan, and I know that face. You like him.”
“I’m sorry, did you get the sense fucked out of you back there? I do not like him. He was my wedding hook up.”
“First of all, yes I did get the sense fucked out of me as I always do with Ian. The man is an Adonis.”
“TMI.” I chuckle.
“And secondly, you totally like him, otherwise you wouldn’t have cared if he was married or not.”
I shake my head. “Please. The only reason why I cared was because the idea of sleeping with a married man was eating away at me. Now, that feeling of shame is gone.”
She pulls up in front of the shop and puts her escalade in park. “And now that feeling of shame has been replaced with love?”
I bark out a laugh and open the door. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. We still on for drinks tomorrow night?”
“Hell yes. Give JoJo kisses for me.” I wave to her before stepping into the shop, spotting Joey pacing behind the counter.
His hands are continually tugging at the ends of his hair and he looks thoroughly stressed and irritated. Turning towards the sound of me entering, he drops his hands dramatically. “For fuck’s sake. I have been dying here while you two whores played castrate the adulterer. What happened?”
I walk behind the counter to join him and down my now completely cold coffee. “Calm down, you queen. We didn’t castrate anybody.”
He raises a brow suspiciously. “Well why the hell not? Wasn’t that the whole point of storming over there?”
I’m about to answer when the shop door opens. Joey straightens up and sharply turns towards the door. “We’re closed,” he barks towards the customer as I fold over in laughter.
“Joey.” I nudge him and he smiles. “He’s just kidding, sir, how can I help you?”
The gray-haired man smiles and moves up to the counter. “Good afternoon. Do you have any tarts? I love tarts and haven’t had one in years.” He eyes up my display case and taps lightly on the glass with his hands.
“I’m a bit of a tart sugar,” Joey says in his overly flirtatious voice.
“Good Lord. No, sir, I’m sorry I don’t make tarts. Although, maybe I will. What kind do you like?”
He smiles sweetly as his eyes light up. “Oh all kinds. Strawberry, blueberry, kiwi, they’re all delicious.”
I giggle at his enthusiasm and pull out a notepad, scribbling down a reminder. “I’ll tell you what, I will personally make some tarts and have them in the shop ready for you by the end of the week. How does that sound?”
“That’s perfect. Thanks, sugar. I’ll stop in sometime on Friday.” He winks at me before turning and leaving the shop, the door dinging closed behind him.
Joey shakes his head at me. “Do you have to be so accommodating all the time? We do enough special requests as it is.”
I place my notepad on the counter and put my hand on my hip. “Hey, special requests are what make Dylan’s Sweet Tooth different from all the other bakeries around here. You can’t just walk into Crumbs Galore on Main Street and ask for something they don’t make. I like being approachable and accommodating. It gives me an edge.” He rolls this eyes but smiles at me, knowing that I’m one hundred percent right. Word of mouth about how customers can pretty much request anything in my shop has gotten me a ton of business over the past three years. I shrug and continue. “Now, would you like to talk about how awesome we are compared to our competition, or would you like to talk about how Reese isn’t married?”
His eyes widen and he stumbles. “Isn’t? As in he’s single? As in you can continue to fuck him?”
My eyes rake through the display case and I straighten up. “Hmmm, hold on. We need more black bottoms.” I move towards the doorway that leads back to the kitchen when Joey grabs me by the shoulders.
“Fuck the fucking black bottoms. You owe me at least an hour of uninterrupted gossip.” His face is red and his eyes are bugging out at me.
“And I will tell you every juicy detail, after I grab a tray of black bottoms.” He lets out a string of curse words and allows me to step in to the back.
I honored what I promised and spared no detail with Joey as I placed the cupcakes into the display case. He stood back, completely enthralled by my rundown of my lunch time office visit. I told him about how I caught Juls getting nailed by Ian on his desk and about how she had mistaken Reese for Trent. I mentioned how Reese thought my angry tirade was sexy and how I was going to yell at him again but opted for a blow job instead to properly apologize for my face slap. And I wrapped up with his words to me when he apologized for his freak out behavior at the wedding.
“He said he’s not used to sex getting to him like that? What the hell does that even mean?” Joey asks as he wipes down the glass of the display case.
I shrug and nibble on a muffin. “I don’t know. I was hoping you had some words of wisdom. It’s not like I’m an expert on this shit or anything.”
He silently thinks for a minute, his hand holding his rag still on the glass. “Maybe he means that you got to him. Like he was only going into it as just being what it was, slutty wedding sex, a one-time hook up, a sexy romp with a bridesmaid—”
“I wasn’t a bridesmaid.” I interject and his hand comes up to silence me.
“You know what I mean. He expected it to be a one and done deal but what he wasn’t expecting was you. Oh my God, you’re a game changer. He wants more than just slutty wedding sex.”
I was going through the motions of rolling my eyes but stopped. Is that what Reese meant? Did I affect him to the point of freak out? Is that even a good thing? No. There’s no way. I shake my head.
“I think you and Juls are still drunk from the wedding. That guy is way too hot for me. Yes, I managed to somehow seduce him after he had several drinks I’m sure, but in normal daily life where alcohol isn’t free flowing and I’m usually covered in pastry flour and icing, he is way the hell out of my league.” I finish off my muffin and toss the wrapper in the trash can. “Besides, he told me he hasn’t had a girlfriend since college, which I’m sure is by choice. Look at him.”
Joey walks around the counter, grabbing my hand and kisses the back of it. “Yeah, he does have that whole unattainable bachelor vibe going on. And I’m sure he gets a lot of ass, but right now, he wants your ass.” He arches his brow playfully. “For the record, I happen to like you covered in pastry flour. And you are just as hot as he is.”
I smile sweetly at him as he drops my hand and gets back to cleaning. My two closest friends are crazy, rightly out of their minds. And between the two of them, I’m sure my wedding to Reese would be planned within the next month.
**
I slept for shit that night. Images of Reese’s orgasmic face kept entering my dreams that I tried to be of anything but him. It was a useless act. No matter what thought entered my mind, whether it was searching my brain for what exactly was in a tart to the anniversary cake consultation I had Tuesday morning; his beautiful face would pop in uninvited. Tossing in my bed and now completely drenched in sweat, I sit up and glance at my alarm clock. 3:15a.m. Jesus, I have to be up in less than two hours for my run and haven’t slept a wink. I slam back on my pillow. This can’t happen. I cannot let some hook up affect me like this. I’m never going to get a good night’s sleep. You can forget about my morning runs with Joey and functioning properly in the shop. I’ll lose my business and everything I worked so hard for. No. Fuck this. Hoping out of bed, I throw myself into a freezing cold shower and jolt myself even more awake. Sleep is for the weak. There’s no way I’m getting any tonight so I might as well bake. After dressing, I grab my phone and descend the stairs two at a time.
I knew exactly what I was going to make. It’s what I always made when I couldn’t sleep or needed a distraction. My mocha cupcakes with espresso butter cream frosting. The perfect combination of caffeine and chocolate, both of which I could consume in massive quantities right now. I opened my tattered recipe book and thumbed through it until I stopped on the familiar handwriting. It was a recipe of my grandmother’s that she used to make when I was a little girl, stumbling clumsily around her kitchen as she baked all day long. She made them weekly and always let me help her, my big brown eyes watching her with complete awe as she cracked her eggs with one hand and never needed a measuring spoon because “a real cook will always trust her taste buds over anything else.” My mother hated when she would make this recipe with me because I would consume them in mass quantities and be on an insane sugar and caffeine high for hours. My crash would be swift and hard, usually resulting in me passing out in the middle of the living room floor. I always thought of my grandmother when I made these. She passed away ten years ago and it made me sad to think that she would never get to see her influence on me now. After pulling together all of my ingredients and starting the coffee maker, I create a group text message with Juls and Joey.
Me: Just so you are both aware, its 3:30a.m. and I am making my mocha cupcakes. Yes, you read that correctly and yes, it’s because I haven’t slept at all. Don’t bother asking me to go for a run Joey. That ship has sailed.
Once the coffee is brewed, I mix in the espresso powder and set it aside to cool while I whip up the remaining ingredients. The smell alone perks me up a bit and I wasn’t feeling like a complete pathetic sleep deprived loser anymore. This is what I knew. Baking. I was good at it and I could practically do it in my sleep. Which I guess right now was ironic considering my current zombie like state. My mind begins to drift as I whip the batter, watching the electric beaters mix the eggs and sugars. I wonder if Reese like’s mocha cupcakes? Or maybe he’s a cookie guy. Shit. I turn the mixer off and put my bowl onto the counter as I rub my eyes. Focus, Dylan. You could lose a fucking finger. I combine the egg mixture with my batter and whip it quickly before dividing the batter evenly into my cupcake liners. After I shove the trays into the oven, I get to work on the icing.
The icing is made of espresso powder, vanilla, butter, and powdered sugar. It’s ridiculously sweet and one of my favorites. I could live off of this stuff if I had to. Because really, is there anything better than icing? Sex with Reese, his lips, his hands touching me, his sounds…
“UGH.” I yell, slamming my hands down onto the cool counter. This is insane. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve never been this affected by a guy before. I was with Justin for two years and could go days without talking to or seeing him and not even miss the asshole. Which I guess in hindsight should have been a dead giveaway. I mean, shouldn’t you want to see your significant other nonstop? But I didn’t, and that was at least a relationship. This, whatever it is that Reese and I are doing or were doing and I may be completely crazy to assume that we will continue doing it. This is not serious. And I need to get my shit together and stop acting like it is. I pull the cupcakes out of the oven and lay them on the counter to cool while I test the icing.
“Mmmm. Perfect.” I’m half tempted to say fuck the cupcakes and grab a spoon and retreat back upstairs with my bowl. But I yawn instead. And yawn again. Glancing at my phone, the blurred numbers read 4:27a.m. as my eyelids refuse to stay open. With a third yawn, I pull up a stool and prop my head on my fist as I sit and wait for the cupcakes to cool. Then I could ice them and get ready for my day. Yup. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I didn’t need sleep. Because with sleep came dreams of Reese and I didn’t need that. My eyelids fall shut and my breathing steadies. Nope, definitely don’t need sleep. Or Reese.
