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My throat goes dry at the agitation in his voice. I swallow, just as Marlene walks back in pulling a rolling cart with cake filled saucers on top and two glasses of water. I grab the bottom of the tablecloth and pull it to cover our laps as I try to free my leg. He grips it tighter, his fingertips clenching into my skin roughly, holding it hostage, his eyes boring into mine.Let go,I mouth.Later.
God that smirk. He discreetly shakes his head as she starts setting the saucers on top of the table, as well as a folded menu. This is obviously an argument I'm not going to win privately, and I'm not into public drama shows. My hands are clenched on the hem of the tablecloth, holding it toward our laps as a covering. As Marlene sits opposite side of us, looking every bit professional and ready to start, his fingers dip beneath my panties, grazing my lips. A high-pitched squeal comes out of my mouth and my body jerks upright from the relaxed state it was in against the chair back. He pinches my lip hard, shushing me. I keep my eyes off of him. "Are you okay?" Marlene asks.
I clear my throat as he begins rubbing up and down in a hauntingly sensitive way along my lips. I concentrate hard on my breathing, grabbing my glass of water and bringing it to my lips. "Fine. Sorry, I accidentally stepped on my foot with my heel and it startled me."
She gives me a look confirming my thoughts. Lame excuse. "Okay. Well, let's get started. If you'll glance at the pamphlet it gives you a list of cake flavors, icing, as well as possible fillings with their descriptions beneath each that we offer. Take a second to go over it and familiarize yourself with what I can do in case one stands out more than what I have here for tasting. I've pulled the most popular for you to try."
Bryant stops, giving me a second to compose myself, his hands beneath the table cloth, one holding my leg captive while the other assaults my most intimate places in the middle of a fucking pastry shop with witnesses should she look under the table or drop something. If I try to submerge a hand to push him off it looks obvious something is going on, so to save my embarrassment I remain hands above the table in a professional manner.
I lift the pamphlet and open it, my eyes scanning each option starting from the top. Bryant begins lightly rubbing his finger through my folds, up and down in a hypnotic rhythm. I focus on the words on the page, trying not to let him get to me.
Cake:Chocolate, Vanilla sponge cake, Chocolate mint, Almond, Banana Walnut, Carrot, Red Velvet . . .
Filling:Pastry cream and raspberry jam, Vanilla cream buttercream, Salted caramel, Apple butter, Chocolate mousse . . .
Frosting:Marzipan, Cream cheese frosting, Dark chocolate ganache, Champagne buttercream . . .
He thrusts a finger inside of me, slowly pumping in and out a few times, before repeating his slow and steady strokes up and down my center, spreading my wetness throughout the entire area. My hands are shaking, the paper resembling a seizing motion. My breathing is heavy. "Tynleigh, are you feeling okay?"
I look up at Marlene. "I'm fine. I just forgot to eat breakfast this morning." I clear my throat. "Bad decision on my part."
"You're flushed. Here, why don't we go ahead and start tasting to get something in your system. Something is better than nothing; even a sweet something."
God, no. He starts stroking my clit, causing me to tense. He's barely creating pressure, keeping a slow pace, and teasing me. I'm not an idiot. He's going to draw this out until he's ready for me to come and make a fool out of me. I'm going to kill him. "Okay, where do we start?"
Bryant's hand loosens on my thigh, but before I can rejoice he traps me with his leg, bringing his hand on top of the table, assuming to participate. I release a breath. "I vote carrot cake," he says, reading the labels as if he's not being completely inappropriate under the table! "It's my favorite."
I stare daggers at his sexy face in profile, a smile present that makes me want to breathe fire. Just as my eyes narrow he presses harder against my clit, pulling an, "Mmm," sound from my lips before I slap my hand over my mouth and try to save myself. "That sounds delicious."
She places the saucer containing two small finger-sized slivers between the two of us. "I love this one too," she says, not acting indifferent in any way. Bryant goes back to slow strokes up and down over my clit and lifts the first piece to his mouth, pushing it inside. I follow behind, letting the flavor settle on my tongue. Slowly his pace picks up, drawing out a little sound from my closed lips. "Good right," she says, not missing a beat.
I want to roll my eyes and scream and sit down on his cock all at once. My emotions are in overdrive right now. I'm going to have nightmares of this day when this is over. "I personally love it, but I don't think this is the right one. My brother isn't real keen on carrot."
She moves the saucer out of the way and places another between us. "The water will clear your palate between tastes. Pistachio Nut is another one of my best sellers." We follow the same process, but this time he keeps the same rhythm, allowing me to control my voice.
"This one is good, but I don't think it's the winner either. Getting closer though. What's that one?"
She slides it between us, replacing the empty saucer, and Bryant reads the label aloud. "Strawberries and . . ." He thrusts two fingers inside of me. "Cream," he says, drawing out the word cream.
"Oh god," I return in somewhat of a pant, my eyes widening almost instantly. "That one is my personal favorite," I lie, trying to tone down my embarrassment from my outburst.
He strokes his fingers in unison back through my folds, and this time when he meets my clit, I can tell a difference. He's going for the goal this play. I clench the tablecloth in one hand, keeping the other above the table, feeling the sweat bead on my forehead, as I robotically taste the next few flavors, straining not to have an outburst again. My toes are curled so tight in my heels it's a wonder I don't have a calf cramp.
When the last flavor is scooted between us, I can feel the tingle bubbling at the base of my spine. "Oh Jesus," I say, my orgasm already brewing so hard my vision is blurry. And then it racks through my body with a rush, breaking down every barrier I've been trying to build since he started this, but my body is numb. I can't see straight and thoughts have gone quiet. "So . . ." He shoves the sliver of red and white into my mouth a millisecond before the moaning begins. "Good." I can't stop it, so I might as well own up to it. I can barely process to chew and swallow the sweet flavor on my tongue as I wade through the ecstasy overpowering my body.
When the wave breaks, I risk a glance at both of them. God love her. She can't be but about five to seven years older than me, but she is gleaming as if she just won fifty-thousand-dollars on an episode ofChopped:pastry chef edition. "That was amazing," I say, trying not to cry and laugh at the same time.
"So the Red Devil's Food it is then?" Bryant asks. When I glance at him he has a fucking sexy ass grin on his face, but just like that, his hand moves from my body, letting my panties fall back into place, and picks up the other sliver of red cake with the hand he just got me off with. I look at him, wide eyed, and praying like hell she doesn't notice his wet fingers. He places it in his mouth, sucking the remnants off of his fingers as if they’re covered in icing. "I think this is the one. Matches your colors too," he says, and my face feels like it's on fire.
I place my hands over my face, shaking my head from side to side as he releases my leg from its hold, and trying to shove away my embarrassment. Of course that's going to be the one I orgasm to under the table in front of a stranger, because right now I feel like every bit of a sinner. I'm a grown ass woman and the only thought plaguing my mind is that my mother would be so ashamed.
Then, without control, I start laughing manically at the entire situation. I gather myself before she thinks I'm completely insane and try to return to my original professional manner. "Marlene, they were all lovely. It's a hard decision to make, but I agree the red is likely the best choice for us, and you can write up the order. Decorate the cake at your will, simple, but elegant. The bride to be doesn't like anything over dressy. And I do have one other request if possible."
She looks at me excitedly, waiting. "Can you box up a half dozen cupcakes in the strawberries and cream?" I glance at Bryant, sitting relaxed with a smile on his face. His bottom lip runs under his top teeth, studying me. "Bryant and I would like them to enjoy together later."
She stands, quickly gathering all of the saucers from the table onto the cart. "Of course! I'll leave the water for you to finish if you wish. Just meet me up front when you're done. I'll get the glasses later."
"That would be great. See you in a few minutes and I'll complete the order."
