Before I can spend too much time daydreaming of tying her up with her apron and fucking her blind here in her kitchen, I join her behind the counter, startling her.
“Matt!”
“How can I help?” I ask calmly.
Her cheeks are flushed and her hands are shaking as she brushes a piece of hair off her face.
“You don’t have to,” she replies but swallows hard.
“Clearly, I do. We’ll talk later, just tell me what you need.” I smile reassuringly and brush her soft cheek with my fingertip.
“Can you fill cupcake orders while I make coffees and ring them up?” she asks.
“I can do that,” I reply.
“I need two minutes,” she informs me and disappears into the kitchen.
I’m just filling a white box full of a half-dozen carrot cake cupcakes when she returns, chewing on something.
“Better?” I ask.
She nods and returns to the cash register, attending to her customers. That red ribbon is tied around her head again. It seems to be a part of her uniform. I do believe we’ll find a way to have fun with that as well.
God, she’s fucking beautiful.
We work side by side for the better part of the morning without a break. I can’t believe how busy her little shop is. I grin in pride when an elderly man approaches Nic to ring up his sales.
“My Margaret and I sure do love your sweets, girlie.”
“Thank you, Mr. Larsen. How is your pretty wife?” Nic asks with a grin.
“She’s been a little under the weather, but these will brighten her right up.”
“I hope so,” Nic replies and drops some chocolate-covered cherries into a bag to give to him as well. “These are new. I’d love it if you two would let me know what you think.”
Mr. Larsen winks at Nic and grins before walking out with his purchase.
Nic knows most of her clients’ names and deals with them all with humor and grace.
At two thirty, there is a lull in customers, so Nic slips in the back for a few minutes and returns with more trays of cupcakes to fill empty slots in her case. She has a stick of string cheese hanging out of her mouth, chewing away on it.
“So what happened?” I ask as she arranges the case.
“Anastasia, my other part-time helper, called out sick this morning,” she replies with a sigh. “Tess is in college, so she can’t help during the week. So that left me.”
“Maybe you should hire someone full time to help out,” I suggest, but she glares at me from across the space.
“Trying to tell me how to run my business now, Matt?”
“Hey,” I reply, holding up my hands, “it was just a suggestion.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighs and rubs her forehead with her fingertips. “I haven’t had enough to eat today. It makes me grouchy.”
“You close at four?” I ask. I walk behind her and begin kneading the tight muscles in her shoulders.
“Yeah,” she replies and sighs deeply, leaning against me. “Jesus, that feels good. Why did you come in?”
“Asher called me. Said you were pretty busy, so I decided to come check in on you.”
She spins around, her jaw dropped in surprise. “But he said you two worked all night.”
I smile patiently and step closer to her, needing to be next to her. She smells of vanilla and sugar, and it’s the most alluring smell I’ve ever experienced.
Who knew sugar could be so fucking sexy?
“You needed me,” I reply simply. “And I’ve missed you this week.”
Her green eyes widen, and suddenly she’s in my arms, wrapped around me, hugging me hard. Her head is tucked against my chest, and she turns her face to bury her nose against me while taking a long, deep breath.
“Thank you,” she whispers before pulling back, but I hold her tight and keep her with me for a few moments, giving us both a moment to settle.
“You’re welcome.”
The bell above the door sounds as a customer walks in, and for the next forty minutes—ten minutes past closing time—we are busy with customers again, cleaning out the glass case except for one cupcake.
Nic locks the door, takes a deep breath and laughs. “I can pay you with a crème brûlée cupcake,” she says.
“I’ll split it with you,” I reply.
“Nah, I don’t eat them.” She waves me off after she hands me the cupcake, stacks the trays from the case and carries them into the back.
“Why not?”
“Can you imagine if I ate everything I baked?” She laughs and shakes her head. “I’d have to live at the gym.”
“You don’t sample anything?” I ask and take a bite of the cake. Dear Christ, these are amazing.
“Once in a while, if it’s something new,” she replies and pulls her apron over her head, throws it in a hamper and watches me enjoy the treat. “Good?”
“Amazing.”
“I’m glad.” She tilts her head, watching me. “You’re tired.”
“I’m exhausted,” I confirm and swallow the last bite.
“Come upstairs with me.” To my surprise, she holds her hand out for mine and then leads me up to her apartment. “We’ll have dinner and you can crash for a while.”
“I don’t live far,” I respond.
“I would rather you didn’t drive when you’re this tired,” she replies. “Plus, you saved me today, so the least I can do is save you back.”
Save me.
Why do I get the feeling that Nic will save me in more ways than she’ll ever know?
***
“So how did you become a baker?” I ask and take a bite of meat lover’s pizza.
We are seated in her living room, shoes off, facing each other from opposite ends of the couch, the pizza box between us.
“I always liked to bake,” she replies. “Couldn’t afford to go to a university and actually, didn’t go to culinary school until I was about twenty-three. I got a job out of high school, partied a little too hard, basically gave my parents gray hair until I pulled my head out and saved my money so I could attend the Art Institute here.”
I nod and stretch my legs out in front of me and rest them on her ottoman. “That’s right, you were rebellious.”
“What about you?” she asks.
“What about me?” I reply and grin at her. Which part of me are you asking about, baby?
“How did you become a cop?”
“Oh, that. I did two years in the Army.” I wince and shake my head. “Caleb was much more suited for the military.”
“Don’t like being told what to do, huh?” she asks me with a wink, making me chuckle.
“That wasn’t it, actually. I don’t want to move around all the time. I like it here. I want to be near my family. So, when my two years were up, I came home and worked my way through college and then applied to the academy.”
She closes the pizza box, sets it aside and lays her cheek against the back of the couch, a soft smile on her full lips. If I had the energy, I’d lean over and capture those lips under mine and kiss her mad.
Instead, I pull her feet into my lap and begin to rub the arches of her feet. She sighs and closes her eyes.
“God, that’s nice.”
“Just relax.”
“You should be the one relaxing. You worked all night and then worked all day in my shop.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I reply with just enough of an edge in my voice to make sure she knows I mean it.
“What about the other stuff?” she asks softly, and when I raise my eyes from her feet to her face, I see her watching me. I raise an eyebrow, and she snickers. “The ropes.”
“I responded to a domestic violence call in my second year on the force. It happened to be at a local BDSM club, which is actually very unusual, as I’ve come to find out since then.” I pause and check her to make sure that I haven’t already scared her off, but she’s just reclined comfortably, listening, so I continue. “While I was there, I saw someone I recogn
ized and saw that he had tied this girl up in ropes, and I thought it was hot as hell, to be honest.”
She smiles, and for just a moment, I forget what I was saying.
I shake my head and pull her other foot into my lap.
“So, when I saw him a few days later, I asked him about it. It’s called Shibari. It’s an ancient form of Japanese bondage, and this friend is a master.”
“Had you tied girls up before?” she asks softly.
“I’d played with handcuffs before, sure. And restraining a woman was always fun, but once I started learning Shibari, I also learned that it comes with responsibility. Trust.”
“What about the dominant stuff?”
“Are you asking just because you’re curious, or have you decided to change your mind about our friendship status?” I ask quietly.
Her cheeks flush as she meets my gaze. “I’m not just curious.”
“I need you to say the words, little one.”
“I want to see where this might go,” she admits.
I release her feet and pull her into my lap, unable to keep from holding her any longer, and let’s face it, talking about this stuff is a huge turn-on for me. I settle her against me but arrange her so I can still look in her eyes while I talk.
This conversation could make or break us, and I am not going to fuck this up.
“What are you afraid of?” I ask gently.
She shrugs and looks down, but I catch her chin with the tip of my finger and tilt her head back up.
“Talk to me.”
“I don’t like losing control,” she whispers. “I have to have control of my business, my financial life, my health, everything, Matt.”
“Okay.” I nod and push my fingers through her soft, short, dark hair. “What about when we had sex before? Did you hate giving up the control of that to me?”
“No,” she answers, and I grin.
Jackpot.
“There are different kinds of Doms, Nic. Some Doms want a full-time sub. Some even have slaves.”
She gasps and covers her mouth, her eyes wide in terror.
“Not that kind of slave, little one. Everything is always consensual and sane.”
“So these women voluntarily allow someone to call them a slave?” Her brow is pursed in a frown, and she’s suddenly overcome her fear, and curiosity has set in.
“Not just women,” I reply and laugh when her jaw drops again. Oh, it’s going to be so fun introducing her to my world.
“Wow, I had no idea.”
“When you were at the erotic ball with your friend, was that the first time you’d been anywhere like that?”
“Yeah, she dragged me,” she replies.
“I’m sorry, baby.” I kiss her forehead and nuzzle her nose with mine. “If I’d known, I would have done things a little differently. I thought you were just shy.”
“I didn’t want you to do anything differently.” She frowns.
“So you enjoyed yourself?”
She nods and then bites her lip before saying, “I’m no one’s slave, Matt. Voluntarily or otherwise.”
“I’m not a slave master, Nic. That doesn’t interest me at all. As I was saying, some Doms are into the slave thing. Some are happy with a submissive in the bedroom, and ask that their sub obeys their rules out of the bedroom as well, especially in a club atmosphere.”
“What are the rules?” she asks.
“Good question,” I reply with a smile. “They vary with the couple, based on their desires and hard limits.”
She swallows and then nods. “Okay.”
“But then there are other Doms who are perfectly happy to be sexually dominant but have a normal vanilla relationship outside of the bedroom.” I grin down at her. “That’s the category I fall into. The restraints are my kink. I love that you’re a business owner and a strong-willed woman. But behind closed doors, I would like to pursue a relationship like the one you tasted a few weeks ago.”
I sit back and wait while she processes this information, chewing on her bottom lip. “So, you won’t try to tell me how to run my shop?”
“Why would I do that?” I ask with a raised brow. “The only thing I know about cupcakes is that they’re delicious.”
“You won’t choose my clothes for me?”
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s too much, in my opinion, but it works very well for other couples.”
She nods again, deep in thought.
“It’s a lot of information.” It’s not a question, and she blinks a few times before meeting my gaze.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “It is. Why no safe word?”
“In clubs, safe words are mandatory, so if we ever go to one together, your word will be ‘red.’ The second you say ‘red,’ everything stops, no questions asked. But, honestly, the way I feel about safe words is, you shouldn’t need one with me. It’s my job to learn what you can handle and what you can’t, and I’m a firm believer in ‘no means no.’”
“I beg to differ,” she interjects with a laugh.
I laugh with her and pinch her round ass, then smooth it with the flat of my hand. “Sassy girl.”
“I don’t have a problem saying ‘no.’”
“So I’ve learned, and I’m glad. It’s imperative that you always communicate with me. I’ll always be watching you for signs of any distress, but I can’t read your mind, so you have to be honest.”
“I can do that. Okay, another question.”
“Anything,” I reply and yawn.
“I can ask tomorrow. You’re so tired.” She rests her palm on my cheek.
I turn my face and press a kiss to her cool hand, enjoying her touch. “I’m okay, let’s get this all talked out so we can move on.”
“I noticed some girls called their Doms sir or master. Do you want me to call you that?” Her eyes say, Never in a million years, dude.
I offer her a smile and shake my head. “I’m not your father, and I won’t insist that you address me as sir or master. I’m Matt or any other sexy-as-hell nickname you might come up with for me. But if we do go to the club, you should know that I’m known as Master Matt there.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a master in Shibari, and I’ve achieved Master Dom status within the club. So the subs address me as such.” She frowns, but I reassure her with, “It’s just the protocol, Nic. It’s respectful.”
“Will I have to kneel?”
“If we’re at the club, yes, but I don’t expect you to kneel when we’re alone.”
She exhales deeply and then turns tired eyes to me. “Is that it?”
I chuckle and drag my knuckles down her cheek. “Honestly, I’m shocked that we’re having this conversation so soon.”
“I was just curious,” she responds with wide eyes, but I stop her before she gets the wrong idea.
“I’m happy, Nic. I was going to suggest that we pursue this, but I thought I’d have to be a bit more persuasive.”
“Well, I am curious, and I do like you, Matt. But I need to be clear with you, this is new to me, and I’m not okay with being told how to live my life.”
“That’s fair.” I nod. “And this also needs to be said: I don’t share, Nic. Ever. I won’t let other Doms touch you. They may watch”—her eyes widen at that—“but they’ll never touch you.”
“I don’t share either,” she whispers.
“Good, then we’re on the same page.”
I stand with her in my arms. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
“Wow, that was quick,” she replies sarcastically.
“We are both exhausted, baby. I’d like to curl up around you and sleep for about eight hours and then wake up and bury myself inside you for another eight.”
She checks her watch and grins. “I have to be at work in thirty-six hours.”
“You have tomorrow off?”
She nods happily.
“Then we’d better get started.”
She laughs and points in the direction of
her bedroom.
I like her apartment. It’s small, but there’s little clutter. The furniture is updated but not too fancy.
But her bedroom pulls at my heart. It’s pure woman. The bed is a king-size four-poster with sheer curtains hanging at each corner.
“We’re going to have fun with this bed, sweetheart.”
She grins and lays her head on my shoulder as I look around the room. I was here before but admittedly was too busy looking at her to take in her bedroom. Her bedding has small pink roses on it. A vanity in one corner of the room is covered in makeup and hair stuff, and there is a pile of shoes in another corner.
“You don’t have enough storage space,” I comment.
“It’s an older building, so it doesn’t have much for closets.”
I set her on her feet and strip her down to her black panties, pull the ribbon out of her hair and lay it on the bedside table, and take a deep breath.
Fuck me, she’s gorgeous.
She has more ink, which I intend to fully explore later. Her body is petite. Thin, but not too thin. She has round breasts with dusky nipples that tighten as I continue to watch them.
A glimpse of silver winks at me from her navel.
“Matt…”
“Shh…I just want to look for a moment.”
Her skin is tanned. Her thighs are slim, but they still touch when she’s standing.
She’s a real woman, through and through.
I lick my lips and hold her gaze in mine. “You are amazingly beautiful.”
She fidgets, and I immediately pull her to me, kiss her softly and draw the linens back on the bed and lay her gently on the soft pink sheets. She watches with sleepy eyes as I also shed my clothing, leaving just my boxer-briefs on, and join her. I turn her back to me and tuck her against me, bury my face in her soft dark hair and inhale the warm scent of vanilla.
“Sleep, little one.”
“Sweet dreams,” she whispers.
Chapter Five
~Nic~
Someone is planting soft kisses on my right shoulder, over my tattoo. Fingertips drag lazily up and down my arm, sending shivers down my body, pulling me out of a deep, restful sleep. I wiggle back, tucking my ass even closer to Matt’s hips, enjoying the way his hardness feels against my back. He’s warm and hard, everywhere.