His Little Tart (2 page)

She grabbed one from the bowl in front of the fondue and popped it into her mouth, biting the fruit from the stem. “Yep, let’s go with a strawberry.”

“So you want a plain pink cupcake, and you want a strawberry on top? Are you sure? I don’t think the tastes go together perfectly, actually. Strawberries are better with something purer, like whipped cream or plain sugar or the chocolate—”

“Yes, but I want them to look like boobies.”

Constance blinked. Maybe Valerie didn’t care about the taste, but she did. She gritted her teeth, took a breath. “I think I can make a cupcake that looks like a breast,”

she said at last.

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Valerie said.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Constance murmured.

“Two, then.”

“Two?”

“Two titty cakes.”

“Oh.” Constance blushed. “Of course.” Constance kept her eyes on her work. She didn’t want to meet Valerie’s eyes, and she especially didn’t want to meet Aidan’s. She

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had the feeling that both of them would enjoy her embarrassment all too much, as her cheeks were probably turning as red as the icing she intended to use for the nipple. She spread pink icing all over two cupcakes and smoothed it with a knife. Then, with a few deft squeezes of her icing bag, she managed to create a slightly raised, textured red center about the size of a nickel, followed by a little bump in the middle of that. It was no wonder someone like Valerie wanted men thinking about her breasts. Or maybe women too, for all she knew. She tried to tell herself that the woman would have back problems, but she couldn’t help but be jealous of her curves.

“There you go,” Constance said, pushing the cupcakes forward. She lifted her chin so she could meet Valerie’s gaze.

Valerie licked her lips. “Good enough to eat. Thanks!” She looked down, picked up the cupcakes, and sashayed away, leaving Constance to wonder whether Valerie meant her or her creations.

“You handled her well. She’s like that with everybody. Don’t mind her,” said Aidan. “Are you going to be here later?”

“I pack up at eight o’clock, and then I’ll go home.” Why was he showing such an interest? Or maybe he just wanted to know how to space out his munching. He didn’t look like a man who gobbled sweets constantly. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, his belly flat. He probably worked out. Or maybe he was one of those people who naturally didn’t put any fat on. She had to watch herself constantly, and on the occasions she ate her own pastries, she spent weeks of careful dieting trying to undo the results.

“You aren’t going to stay to play? I don’t think Alex would mind.”

He was right. Alex had invited her to stay as late as she liked. But she shook her head. “Eight o’clock. That was what I agreed with Ms. Allison.” Technically, she wasn’t lying, as that was the time she had contracted to keep the pastry table set up. Alex had invited her to stay as long as she liked.

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He smiled, and she got the distinct impression he didn’t believe her. “Enjoy yourself, Constance. And it’s okay to look. People wouldn’t be here if they minded being watched. Some of them enjoy it, and it makes some nervous. Others feel safer with people around, but there are rooms and the woods to play in if they wanted privacy. You don’t need to hide your interest with furtive glances.”

My God, he knows.
But she wasn’t about to admit it. “I wasn’t glancing, furtively or otherwise. I’m not interested.”

“In sex or in kink?”

I don’t have time for either.
“In kink,” she said, trying to meet his gaze and failing.

She didn’t want to sound like a prude.

“Ah. You obviously love your chocolate, but people here call the non-kinky types ‘vanilla.’ If anyone shows an interest, telling them you’re vanilla will probably make them leave you alone.”

She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to be left alone. She knew her claim to be uninterested was a lie, and she wanted to find out more. And she was kind of enjoying sparring with Aidan. She half hoped she’d lose. But Aidan was probably just playing around. Surely he wasn’t interested in her. With a body like that, he could have anyone in the room. No, he was only trying to give her some friendly advice. “I’m vanilla,” she said. Better to reject him now than to be rejected later. Besides, she had a business to run, and she didn’t have time for lovers, even superhandsome ones with sexy accents.

He chuckled. “For now,” he said and walked off, taking another bite of cupcake as he went.

“NO, THANK YOU.” Aidan wasn’t entirely sure why he was turning the offer down. Brenda was built, with curves in all the right places. Her friend, Monica, was blonde and petite. Two girls, both very attractive in different ways, and him calling the shots—it ought to be a fun time. But he’d had Brenda “submit” before, and it involved all sorts of wheedling and topping from below, although she screamed very nicely

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when she came. With her and Monica having discussed the scene beforehand—and a clear idea of what they wanted—it would probably be even worse. They were looking for some man to fill the role in their scripted drama. While it might be hot, he didn’t work that way. Still, some lucky guy was in for a good time. The two women wouldn’t have any problem finding someone in the large room.

“Are you sure?” Brenda asked. She moved behind him and pressed her breasts against his back, nuzzling his neck. He saw her crook her finger out of the corner of his eye, and Monica came and hugged him from the front, lifting her thigh and rubbing it against the ridge of his cock through his jeans.

“He’s hard, all right. He wants us,” said Monica.

He put his hands on Monica’s waist, lifted her easily, and set her down at a distance. “I’m sure, ladies. Find someone else.” He pulled Brenda’s arms from his shoulders and walked away, stopping only once he was near the door that led to the woods. It was a pleasant day, and there were still more people playing out back, he knew. He set his back against the wall and sighed.

There were a half-dozen unattached, willing female subs in the room. Probably half a dozen more that were attached but whose arrangements with their regular dominant let them play with others. Women who knew what they wanted and weren’t ashamed to admit it. Kinky, imaginative, his kind of girl. So why was he getting a hard-on thinking about an uptight pastry chef who claimed to be vanilla? That white jacket she wore hinted at curves, but he only had the vaguest guess what her body looked like.

If anything, she was a bit thin for his tastes, although she had nice broad hips. He preferred his women soft and cuddly.

He popped the rest of the cupcake into his mouth and licked his fingers. He’d been savoring it for a long time, taking little bites. He traveled around the world on business, trying to find new start-ups to invest in. He’d eaten food at five-star restaurants and pastries from master
pâtissiers
in Paris. Perhaps it was the incongruity of finding fine food at Bondage Ranch, tucked in the middle of the Catoctin Mountains

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far away from civilization that made her concoctions taste so good, but they were as good as anything he’d ever had. He’d never considered a cupcake to be fine eating before. He’d grabbed it only because he wanted a few empty calories to keep him going.

He didn’t want to waste a moment of his vacation, but here he was, standing and watching.

He came to Bondage Ranch to blow off some steam and have some hot sex.

Apparently his last few trips had given him a good reputation, because he’d had offers. Some instinct had made him turn them down. Do-me subs like Valerie and Brenda didn’t have any appeal to him. Like the cupcake, they were empty calories, offering the illusion of being in control while following a script. Perhaps that was what made Constance attractive to him. He had no idea what would happen with her, and she probably had little preconception as to what she wanted.

He watched her as she took longer and longer looks. She showed little interest in Mistress Sue as she teased her helpless sub, his cock in a cage, but her gaze lingered on Bruce tying up his sub, Laera, in ever more intricate knots. Perhaps that meant she was interested in being restrained, or perhaps she admired Bruce’s artistry. She’d turn away, fidget, focus on her cake decorating or test the heat on the fondue, but then she’d look around again. He wanted to believe it meant something that she was more interested in the scenes where a woman was submitting than the ones where she was in charge. He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t deluding himself. Maybe he wanted what he couldn’t have. But she wasn’t the least available woman in the room, and he didn’t fantasize about Laera or tall, redheaded Selena, who was standing aloof with her Master James.

They were definitely his type, physically, as was Alex Allison, but his appreciation of their curves didn’t make him want to encroach. Those women were taken.

Even Mistress Sue, who clearly had an open relationship and whose lovely body was displayed quite nicely today in her black leather bustier, micromini, and thigh-high boots, didn’t interest him. He suspected Sue wasn’t quite as all domme as she sometimes pretended, but she was definitely in the class of beautiful women who were

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not on his menu. If he just wanted what he couldn’t have, he’d be dreaming about trying to get Sue to submit, he supposed. Instead, he was mooning over a pastry chef who couldn’t bring herself to openly look at the activities that clearly fascinated her.

Constance looked up again, in the direction of the waxing scene Arthur and Samantha were doing on a table to his left. He’d heard that the muscular dom and his thin-as-a-fashion-model submissive had gotten married recently. Poor blighter. Still, Arthur looked happy enough, pouring drops of hot wax onto his wife’s body and stopping briefly each time her body jerked in response. He wondered what Constance made of it and found her staring straight at him.

Caught.

He smiled and stared back until she lowered her head.
Yes, I’m looking at you, ma petite pâtissière.

Maybe he should stay away. But he didn’t think so. All his instincts said there was something beneath that shyness that wanted to be unlocked. And he wanted to be the one to unlock it.

He’d had plenty of experience with sex when he’d met a kinky stranger named Karla in a London nightclub years ago, but the experience had led him to understand much better what had made some hookups work and some not. He’d learned who he was and come to terms with the fact that he liked to be in charge. It was all a matter of finding a partner who liked the other side, who wanted the freedom of letting someone else make the decisions for a while. He’d often wondered how his life would have been different if he’d never run into Karla. He imagined he’d have found the BDSM scene eventually, but maybe not. She’d taught him a lot about himself.

Including the fact that he wasn’t built for a lasting relationship. He’d fallen, hard, but that was long past. There was always a danger that Constance might do the same, so he’d have to be careful with her. And very, very clear. But hopefully, he could pay forward the favor that Karla had done for him.

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He snorted. He hadn’t even gotten the girl to admit to her kinky side, and already his mind had her falling in love with him. Not going to happen. He glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes before seven. He still had over an hour to wait. Maybe he should find some other girl and let Constance find her own way.

Nah. Time to do some research.

He crossed the room, walked down the hall, and headed for Alex Allison. If anyone knew anything about Constance, it would be the mistress of Bondage Ranch.

The question was, would she talk?

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There had been no sign of Aidan the last hour, but that hadn’t made Constance feel any less selfconscious. In fact, she’d taken comfort from the idea that he was watching over her, which showed how active her imagination was. She knew why having a protector look out for her was attractive. Times were tough, and it wasn’t easy to run one’s own business. She often felt all alone. But a man wasn’t going to make that easier. She’d watched her friends from college and from culinary school. Their relationships took a lot of work and time she couldn’t afford.

Besides, Aidan could probably have plenty of other women. She’d seen him turn away two, both better looking than she was. Maybe threesomes weren’t his thing, but she had the distinct impression they were pretty much every man’s thing. He wasn’t seriously going to be interested in her.

She packed up the remaining pastries into two deep trays with lids and carried them down the hall toward the kitchen. Alex—she felt odd thinking of a customer by her first name, but Alex had insisted, saying that “Ms. Allison” made her sound like a domme—had wanted the table put away at eight to make room for more “equipment,”

so she was going to serve the leftovers for breakfast in the morning. Much later, and they wouldn’t be at their best.

She had to go through the living room to get to the kitchen, however, and Aidan was there, chatting and laughing with a beautiful blonde she hadn’t seen before. In spite of herself, she felt a pang of jealousy. He had found another woman, just as she’d expected. She hurried to the kitchen. It wasn’t like she was going to do anything with him anyway, but she would have found her fantasy as she went to bed that night more