This was her dream, and she was not only living it but was succeeding at it, too. He was three people from the front now, and she gave him a surreptitious once-over. He was watching her. She gave him a quick smile. A smear of chocolate ganache arced across one shoulder of the jacket.
Occupational hazards of the bakery business included chocolate on your clothes and going home smelling like butter and vanilla. She smiled, not too hard, and made eye contact. She handed over his items, took his money, made change, and that was it. Then she was on to the next customer with no time to think about her disappointment until after nine-thirty, and then it was time to start another bake and do the prep for the lunch crowd.
She was out front for lunchtime, and toward the end of the rush, he came back. Her heart leaped even while she told herself this meant nothing. She waved off the clerk and stepped up to the counter herself.
He studied the various pastries and baked goods behind the glass display counter. Brownies, cupcakes, cookies, and pastries left over from the morning bake, as well as samples of the various cakes she sold, either whole or by the slice. A few of them were faceted in a bezeled setting the color of rose-gold, but most of them were milky smooth. He looked up and when their gazes met, she got a major rush of whoa. Her mother, if she had been here instead of in Georgia and if Paisley been crazy enough to tell her about the reaction, would have said it was fate.
And then intone that fate came in three flavors: bad, worse, and disastrous. Her mother was a real ray of sunshine. Paisley had spent years trying to get out from under the habit of seeing doom everywhere.
There was no doom involved in a hottie who wanted to buy a cake from her. However, there was profit. And the possibility of a date, because if he showed the least sign of interest, she was going to ask him out to coffee.
But of course they could be personalized, she told him. He made his selection—a chocolate butter cake with a chocolate frosting decorated with white pastilles and white fondant daisies—and she took the cake in the back to pipe out the phrase Congratulations on Your Success on top of it. She brought it out, showed it to him, and he smiled his approval. What a smile, too.
Serious with an edge of heat. That smile made her think her lack of a sex life needed to be remedied ASAP. The owner and principal baker of this establishment. His eyes jittered, which startled her enough that there was a brief and awkward silence. He closed his eyes for a moment, but she could see his eyeballs twitching underneath his eyelids.
When he opened them again, everything was back to normal. Home English Online. Read Book Download Book. Cuentos del planeta tierra by Arthur C.
She was going to have to change her panties. She could feel her juices soaking the thin silk she wore beneath her jeans.
Her clit was swollen, demanding attention and the clench of her thighs did nothing to help the pulsing ache centered there. Paige was tempted to use the toy she had been given by one of her best friends. It would ease, perhaps, the sensual pain flooding her, but she had been saving that last veil of innocence.
For Abram. Her hands slipped beneath her white silk oversized blouse to find the hard tips of her nipples beneath the thin lace of her bra. The touch of her own fingers had a gasp passing her lips. The pleasure was incredible, but still she knew, not as intense as the pleasure Abram would give her.
She cupped the mound and let her thumb stroke against the sensitive tip. She was aching. So desperate for his touch. She closed her eyes as a moan whispered past her lips.
Within seconds she had her jeans off and her panties sliding over her legs. Her fingernails raked through the silken curls between her thighs as she spread her legs further and fought to pretend it was Abram.
To pretend that it had been her laying in that bed with him and Tariq, that it was her body accepting such pleasure. Each touch would be firm, determined, dominant. It would border erotic pain, and agonizing pleasure. He would control her body. Her fingers returned to her breast, nails rasping her nipples before gripping it and pumping it erotically. Her head thrashed against the bed. She needed more. Parting the folds of her pussy she ran her fingers over her heavily juiced slit, moved upwards, circled her clit and ran a trail of pleasure around the bundle of nerves.
Desperate, muffled breathy cries were stopped in her throat, the sounds almost silent as she caressed her flesh, sliding downward, circling the entrance and dipping shallowly inside. The need was growing worse with each visit Abram made to Virginia, and now, she would never be able to forget the sight of him sharing his lover, or the pleasure that had contorted her face, as well as his. She wanted it. She wanted the extreme eroticism she had witnessed between Abram, his lover, and his cousin.
She wanted Abram until she felt as though she were burning up inside. Perspiration dotted her body, it felt as though flames were licking over her flesh. Her pussy clenched, her juices spilling to her fingers as she pressed two together, uncaring of the veil of her virginity as she tucked them against the snug entrance.
Wood cracked against wood hard enough to cause her to pull her fingers free of her body and to jerk her upright in shock. Eyes wide she stared across the room at the vision of pure male outrage, black eyes burning, his hair sensually tousled and laying around his face and shoulders like course midnight. He moved across the room, stalking, predatory, the loose white pants he wore laying low on his hips, his cock jutting beneath it, thick and long, as he moved to the bed.
Paige stared back at him, her breathing harsh, the need so spike sharp now that fingers of hunger struck at her pussy with daggerlike intensity. His fingers tightened, released, tightened again. There was no will to reject whatever touch, whatever pleasure he would give her.
His arms looped around her legs, pulling her thighs apart as his head lowered and his lips buried in her pussy. Lick me! Abram please, make me come. Just make me come. Her knees bent, lifting, her heels digging into the mattress as waves of burning sensation began to tear through her.
It was a pleasure that bordered pain, pouring through her body with a strength and a speed that she had no hope of depending her heart against. It was almost angry, an uncontrolled hunger that imprinted itself on the act with an eroticism that had her fighting for breath.
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