Sweet Addiction (10 page)

I think for a minute
before it dawns on me. “Oh, the tarts.” I shuffle quickly to the kitchen and
bring out the container of treats. “I’m sorry to hear he isn’t feeling well.”

The man smirks. “Yeah
well, I can’t say I share your sympathy. His illness did bring me in here to
see you.” He smiles wide, showing perfect teeth and winks at me. I shudder a
bit.

“Jesus.” Joey utters as
he steps behind the register. I ignore him and the comment from the man.

“Umm, well the tarts
are $3.75 apiece. How many would he like?”

“I don’t know, three I
guess? Can I get your number?”

I freeze midair as I’m
reaching into the container to pick out the tarts.
Jesus, Joey was right. I
don’t think I’ve ever been this popular with men before.
Quickly shaking
off his question, I pull four tarts out of the container and place them into a
pastry box as Joey rings him up.

“I’m seeing someone. Here
you go, the fourth one’s free.” I push the box across the counter and meet his
eyes. They’re the strangest color, a mix between mustard yellow and pale
blue.  It’s a bit unsettling and I quickly glance away.

“Well that’s too bad.
If he fucks up and you stop seeing him, give me a call.” He smiles and pulls a
card out of his pocket, sliding it across the table. I glance down at it
briefly before flicking my stare back up to him. There’s something about this
guy that I find to be a major turn off but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Thanks for the tarts,” he says, turning and exiting the shop as I pick up his
card.

“Bryce Roberts. Well,
he was disturbingly forward.” Spinning around, I toss his card into the
trashcan and dust my hands off, brushing the creepiness off my skin.

“Excuse you. Why are
you throwing out a hot guy’s number? I thought you and Reese weren’t serious?”
Joey pries as my phone beeps.

I reach excitingly for
it and hear his quiet laugh. “I have the
hottest
guy’s phone number. I’m
set.”

Reese: I’ll come to you. 8:00p.m.?

Me: Sounds perfect.

**

I worked on the cake
for the Smith/Cords wedding all night, finally passing out a little after
2:00a.m. It was one of the prettiest cakes I’d made yet. The bride had
requested edible cherry blossoms along the base of each tier and I surprised
myself at just how realistic they turned out. I snapped a close up picture of
one before sending it to Reese, since he seemed to appreciate my work. 
His response was nothing short of swoon worthy. Yes, now that word is being
thrown around in my vocabulary as well. Joey texted me early on Saturday and
told me that he wasn’t feeling well, thinking he had some bad food at the
restaurant with Billy and was being taken care of in bed all day. I’m sure that
meant not just in a
bring you chicken soup and popsicles
kind of way.
This meant that I would be making the cake delivery on my own today. I was a
bit nervous. I hadn’t done that in years, the last time being when Joey spent a
weekend with a very hot Greek guy he met at a club. They fucked and fought
while I busted my ass trying to carry a six tiered cake up a huge flight of
stairs. He paid for that one for weeks.

I stare out at Sam
through my shop window. The van is pulled up in front of the shop, back door
wide open and ready for me to slide the cake inside. It’s almost noon and I
need to leave now if I am going to make it to the reception hall to drop off
the cake in time. Traffic is always a nightmare on Saturdays and I know it’s
going to take me longer than I would like to get there. I’m stalling, not
really wanting to attempt to carry the cake by myself and possibly have a major
mishap. “Damn it, Joey.” I grab my phone out of my pocket and scroll to my
favorite wedding planner’s contact info.

“Hello, sweets,” she
sings with her chipper
I’m going to keep everybody in this god damned
wedding party calm
voice. I chuckle into the phone.

“Hey. I’m just now
leaving to drop the cake off so if I’m a bit late.”

“We’re running late as
it is so no worries. This fucking bride is driving me insane.” She sighs
dramatically. “I seriously feel bad for her groom. Pretty sure he’s in for a
lifetime of annoyance.” I hear commotion in the background and can only imagine
what Juls is dealing with. She’s had some doozy brides.

I sigh in relief.
“Thank God. I’m flying solo today since Joey is playing house with Billy. 
I really hate doing deliveries alone.”

I hear her gasp
dramatically. “What are you doing? Go find the preacher. He’s been MIA for
twenty minutes. Sorry, I gotta go, Dyl. This wedding isn’t going to start at
all without me. Hey, are we still on for a much needed girl’s day tomorrow?”

I jump in excitement,
almost having completely forgotten about the massages and facials we booked
weeks ago after declaring how little we see of each other. “Yes. I’m so ready
for the spa and my Juls time. Good luck with your nightmare bride.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.
Bye, sweets.”

I click end and turn
around, staring the cake down as it sits on my side table that I do
consultations at. “Alright, it’s just you and me. Don’t fucking piss me off and
I won’t eat you. Got it?”

I prop the front door
open and drop down, carefully and oh so slowly picking up the cake and carrying
it out to Sam’s back door. Setting it down on the ledge, I ease it inside while
holding my breath and saying every prayer I can think of silently.  After
successfully putting it where I want it, I close my eyes tightly and force the
air out of my lungs.
Okay, half the battle’s over.
Moving the holder in
place that keeps the cakes from sliding all around the back of the van, I
secure everything tightly and close the back doors.  Spinning around to
walk to the driver’s side, I’m halted immediately as I run straight into a
brick wall of a chest.
Oh terrific.

“Jesus Christ, Justin, you
scared the shit out of me.” I push away from him as he lets out a small
annoying laugh.

“Sorry, Dyl pickle.”

Ugh
.
I hate when he calls me that.  I haven’t been able to eat a dill pickle in
two years.

“What do you want? I’m
running late and really don’t have time to chat.” Nor do I want to. I move to
step around him when his arm shoots out and grips my waist. “What the hell?
What are you doing?”

“Oh come on, baby. I
saw the way you looked at me at the wedding.” He pins me against the van,
grinding his erection into my hip. I’m struggling against him but his grip is
firm. Really firm. “You still want this. I can tell.”

“Are you insane? Get
the fuck off me!” I yell, whipping my head from side to side at the dead street
around us. Figures, any other time of day people are bustling up and down the
sidewalks. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I know you prefer
married men now. Give it up, baby. It’s all good. Sara apparently likes to fuck
around behind my back, so I can do the same to her.” His breath reeks of
alcohol and my shoulders begin to burn where he’s squeezing me, pressing my
body into the side of my van. He runs his tongue over my ear and I buck against
him. “Still sweet.”

I push against his
chest, backing him off a bit. “You’re disgusting. I’m not interested. I’ll
never be interested again. Fuck, you’re hurting me, Justin. Let go.” His
fingers are digging into my skin and I want to cry but I somehow manage to hold
it in. I’ve cried enough over this asshole.

He pulls me towards him
and then slams me once more against the van, this time knocking the air out of
my lungs and dropping me to my knees. I fall over onto my side, gasping for air
as he bends down and leans his face into mine. “Your loss,” he whispers and
storms away as I finally take in enough air to calm my screaming lungs. I cough
and wheeze, clutching at my chest as I struggle to pull myself up onto my feet.
What the fuck? What just happened?
Justin turned psychotic, that’s what
happened. My entire body is in pain and I want to go back inside and nurse my
wounds but I can’t.

“Fucking hell,” I
whimper as I climb into Sam and start him up. I pull the visor down and quickly
try to recover my appearance so that I don’t look like I just got molested in
the street.  My hair is a mess, completely unraveled from my bun and my
face is streaked with makeup. I wipe under my eyes, removing my mascara, and
clean up the rest of my face. Peeling my top down to reveal my shoulder, I
wince at the bright red fingertip sized marks that are highly visible. “Jesus
Christ. That fucking prick.” I pull my shirt back up and cover them up quickly,
resting my head back and taking in several slow deep breaths.
That bastard.
I’m going to dismember him the next time I see him.
I shake my head and fix
my hair. I can’t deal with this right now; I have a job to do and I need to
fucking do it. I push the events that just transpired out of my mind and pull
away from the curb and to a wedding where hopefully, the only dick the bride
will be sucking will be her husband’s.

Everything involving
the cake delivery went smoothly. Everything except for what happened before the
actual cake delivery. Soaking my sore muscles in my tub, I run through the
events that transpired several hours ago in my head. Justin was never aggressive
with me when we were together. He never put his hands on me like that before.
So I can only chalk up his fucked up behavior to him discovering his wife’s
wedding indiscretions and dealing with it like a lunatic. I find it rather
perfect that he’s getting what he deserves, as long as he doesn’t deal with it
at my expense. One thing is for sure, if he touches me again, he won’t have a
dick to cheat on his wife with. I’ll cut that shit off and make him eat it.

My phone beeps and I
sit up in the tub, pulling it off the sink and reading the message.

Reese: We still on for 8:00p.m,
love?

I sigh heavily and
stare at his message. I’m beyond excited to spend the evening with Reese, but I
don’t want him to see the hideous marks that grace the skin of my shoulders and
my upper back now. And spending time with him and not fucking is going to be a
challenge. Of course, I could convince him to do clothes
on
fucking like
we did at the wedding. That was still insanely hot. I nod at my decision as I
type.

Me: We better be. I’m in the tub
right now getting ready for you.

Reese: Prove it.

So many options here.
I slump down so that the tops of my knees are sexily poking out of the water
and press them against each other.  I take a quick picture and send it to
him.

Reese: I love those legs.
Especially when they’re wrapped around my head.

Me:  I especially love that
too. Now stop distracting me. I have an incredibly hot CPA coming over in less
than an hour.

Reese: Lucky bastard.

I dress in my favorite
pair of skinny jeans that make my ass look higher and tighter, a tight black
T-shirt that has a wickedly plunging neckline, and my black pumps. For casual
wear, I have to say that I am looking pretty doable. My wavy blond hair falls
smoothly past my shoulders and I stick with minimal makeup tonight, just some
tinted moisturizer, mascara, and some lip gloss. A soft tapping on the glass
door downstairs sends me carefully hurrying down the stairs and through the
kitchen, stopping in the doorway at the sight of my date in the window.
Shit,
not a date. Not a date, Dylan.

I walk through the dark
bakery up to the front door, waving sweetly at him as his smile grows. Reaching
up to unlock it, I see his eyes roam down my body, taking in every inch of me
before they finally return to my face. I hold my hand on the lock as he studies
me.

“Hi, handsome,” I say,
still not turning the lock to allow him entry. His green eyes are soft and warm
and I’m dying to let him in. But I’m going to wait.

“Hi, love. Are you
going to open the door or are you expecting someone else. Another incredibly
hot CPA maybe?” He places his hands on either side of the door and tilts his
head to the side, arching his brow at me.
Oh how I love playful Reese.

“No just you. How well
can you see me from out there?” The sight of him in jeans and a fitted gun
metal grey T-shirt, hugging his body perfectly the way I want to is making me
feel scandalous all of a sudden.

“Uh, pretty well.” He
narrows his eyes at me. “What are you getting at?”

I step back a few feet
and stand still. It’s dark outside already but Reese is being illuminated by a
street lamp that is on the nearest corner. His tall frame is the only thing I
can see through the glass. I smile widely at him. “If I’m right here, can you
see me okay?”

He nods. “Not as well
as I’d like to but yeah. What’s up?”

I pull my bottom lip
into my mouth as I hold up a finger, indicating for him to wait a moment as I
disappear into the kitchen. Carrying out a wooden chair, I sit it down in the
middle of the room where I had just been standing and turn my eyes towards him.
He’s studying me curiously, his eyes indicating that he has no idea what’s
coming. Or who is coming for that matter, because someone will definitely be
coming.

“Is the sidewalk busy
tonight?” I ask, moving gracefully into the chair and facing him, legs crossing
in front of me and my heeled foot drawing circles in the air.

He scratches his head
and glances to his left, then to his right before turning back to me. “No, I
think I’m the only guy out here waiting for you. You are going to let me in
right?”

And that is the only
confirmation I need to get the show started.

“Yes, in a minute.” I
uncross my legs and spread them, my feet firmly planted on the tiled floor as I
lean back against the hard wood. I keep my eyes on him as I slowly trail my
hand down the front of me, gliding over my breasts and stopping at the top of
my jeans.

“Dylan, what the fuck
are you doing?”

Taking both of my
hands, I pop the button of my jeans and slide my dominant hand into my panties,
letting out a loud moan as I begin moving two fingers against my drenched clit.
Reese braces himself against the glass with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Dylan. Holy fucking
shit. Love, let me in.” His one hand grips his hair while the other pulls at
the door handle repeatedly, the glass shaking slightly.

Tilting my head back, I
bring my free hand up to my breast and squeeze, pulling at my erect nipple
through my sheer bra and thin shirt. My fingers dip lower, spreading my wetness
around and up to my enlarged hot spot as my breathing becomes loud and jagged.
He begins pacing outside the window, never letting his eyes leave me or what I
am doing.

“Reese, Oh God. I’m
pretending it’s you touching me.” This is absolutely true. I can’t touch myself
anymore and not imagine it isn’t him.

“Fuck. Let me in and I
will
be touching you.”

Closing my eyes, I move
my fingers in quick circles. I think of the first time he touched me at the
wedding, the way his hands slid up my thighs. The way he gripped my hips and
pulled me against him, meeting his thrusts with such force that I thought he
would break me. His eyes, his lips, the way he filled me completely on Tuesday
and the feel of his skin against my skin.  How he kept his eyes on me when
he was devouring me between my legs. I’m moaning loudly, working myself up and
then I feel it. The pull. The heat. Slow and steady pouring over me and
flushing my entire body. I pulse against my hand, coming long and hard all by
myself.

“Reese.” Bucking
against the chair, I hold my fingers still but apply enough pressure to give me
what I need. My eyes are closed and my head is thrown back, but through my
moans I hear several bouts of pounding on the glass going on and know that he’s
dying out there. I don’t know why, he’ll definitely be getting his in a minute.

Lifting my head slowly,
I push myself out of the chair and calmly button my jeans before I move to
stand directly in front of the door. I smile slyly at his appearance. I feel
amazing and he looks completely frazzled, hair sticking out all over the place,
eyes wide, jaw tightly clenched. I bite my cheek and giggle.

“You’re going to kill
me. You know this right?” he says as I slowly slip my fingers into my mouth and
suck on them. He runs his hand through his hair while the other one grips the
door handle. “Dylan, if you don’t let me in right now I’ll be replacing your
door tomorrow.”

I snicker and pull my
fingers out of my mouth, quickly reaching up and unlocking the door as he
barges through and pulls me against him. Picking me up and wrapping my legs
around his waist, he turns and locks the door behind us with his free hand
before he brings his mouth to mine, his other hand holding me up.

“So fucking sexy, love.
But don’t do that again,” he says between kisses and I pull back, seeing his
serious expression.

“You didn’t like my
show? It was just for you.” He carries me over to the counter and sits me down
on top of it, settling his body between my thighs. His hands run up my arms,
brushing lightly over my shoulders and up my neck as he slowly traces my throat
with his fingers.

“I loved your show. But
I don’t like not being able to get to you. I was dying out there.” I smile and
press my forehead against his as he trails his fingertips down my neck and over
the top of my breasts. “You look beautiful by the way,” he says softly before
pressing his lips firmly against mine. I open for him, allowing his tongue to
softly dip into my mouth. His kisses aren’t urgent this time. They’re slow and
lasting as if he’s savoring this moment with me. Swallowing my moans, his
breath comes out in hot spurts and fills me with my favorite minty flavor. I
press my chest against his as his hands wrap around my waist and slowly stroke
my back, my hands clamped behind his neck. We both break away at the same time,
our foreheads reclaiming their spot against each other’s and our uneven
breathing surrounding us.

“Missed your face,” I
say, regretting it instantly because he didn’t need to know that.
Crap. I
have an orgasm and drop my guard like an amateur.

“Just my face?” he asks
playfully. He brushes my hair behind my ear and runs his fingers through the
waves.

I shake my head and
begin slowly scratching the back of his neck. His eyes close and a tiny sound
of pleasure escapes him, making me smile. “I missed your face too,” he replies
as he reopens his eyes and traces down the sides of my temples, across my
cheekbones, and down to my lips where I kiss the tips of his fingers.

His words warm me the
way they shouldn’t and I know I need to break this moment before I say
something I really don’t want him to know. I wasn’t only weak when it came to
sex around this man.  He is slowly infiltrating every cut of my soul.
“Want a tour?” His lips pull up in the corner and he steps back, holding out
his hand to help me off the counter. I quickly drop my hand out of his before I
become too familiar with the sensation and walk through the doorway that leads
to the kitchen. Flipping on the lights, I walk around the large workbench,
feeling him watch me from where he
stands.                  

“Okay, so this is where
I spend my time whipping up my fabulous creations and trying desperately not to
eat them, which I usually fail at miserably.” I motion around the room and hear
a soft laugh from his direction. “Storage, fridge, freezer, and oh shit.” I
spot a bat of icing that I had made earlier this morning when I was testing out
a new recipe. Grabbing the bowl that I had placed on the shelf, I stick my
pinky finger into the hot pink frosting and slip it into my mouth.

“Mmm, yummy,” I say as
I flick my eyes up to Reese who is perched against the wall.  His arms are
crossed over his chest and he’s watching me with concentrated interest, which
I’m beginning to notice is a pattern of his. “Oh, I found this recipe for
chocolate peppermint frosting and had some extra time this morning to play
around with it. Until I realized that I
didn’t
have extra time and I
stupidly left it out.” I lick my lips and his eyes widen. “Wanna taste?”

“Sure,” he answers,
moving towards the work station. I hop up on top of it and wait patiently for
him to stand in front of me, as his hands rest lightly on my thighs.

I dip my finger into
the frosting. “Open,” I command, holding my finger in front of his now slightly
swollen lips. They curl up into a small smile before he opens his mouth, his
tongue wrapping around my finger and pulling every last bit off.
Jesus, he
could probably get me ready for sex just by licking an envelope in front of me.

“Good?”

“Very, especially
coming off you.”

“I love mint chocolate.
I think it’s the perfect union of flavors.” I dip another finger into the
frosting and pop it in my mouth as he licks his lips.

“I think you’re the
perfect union of flavors,” he responds, causing me to grin even wider.

“Want some more?” I go
to reach my finger into the bowl when he grabs it, taking the bowl out of my
hands and placing it next to me on the work station. Dipping his own finger
into the bowl, he runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he swipes the hot
pink frosting down the side of my neck to my cleavage. I whimper as his tongue
licks off the line of frosting that he’s drawn, paying extra attention to the
dollop that is now dripping between my breasts.

“Lift your arms,” he
whispers, grabbing the hem of my shirt and tugging it over my head after I obey
him. His eyes enlarge and flick from my face to my shoulders, his face
hardening instantly.
Oh fuck.
 

“What the hell? What
happened to you?” His fingers trail the small fingertip size bruises that graze
over my shoulders and I wince at him. Moving my hair out of the way, he leans
around me and I hear a soft grunt as he discovers the bruises on my upper back.
Shit. I meant to keep my clothes on.
This conversation could have
been easily avoided. Damn him and his ability to cloud my judgment.

“Why the hell are you
covered in bruises?” He moves back in front of me and eases in between my legs
again, commanding my attention.