Flirting with the Stranger, page 8
part #1 of Harbor Highlands Series Series
“So, what’s the scoop on this party? Obviously, it’s a unicorn party based on the number of horns I had to twist into shape and place on top of the frosting. What about the guy? Who’s he?”
“Lucas.” She taps her finger on her chin, thinking. “He’s been coming to the bakery for the last several years. I know we’ve done a few birthday parties for his daughter.”
“His wife ever come in?” I glance over at Hollyn.
“No wife. They got divorced several years ago. Rumor has it she was cheating on him with the pool boy.”
“Someone else who likes them younger.” A small smile stretches across my lips, but my gaze never leaves the road. From the corner of my eye, I see her shake her head.
“You’ve reached your destination.” The robotic voice from the GPS sounds.
I slow down and flip on the turn signal. An open wrought iron gate frames the paved driveway. As we creep up the red maple tree lined blacktop, a massive slate blue Victorian house with a wraparound porch comes into view. No wonder this guy spared no expense for the birthday party. I’m sure he wipes his ass with hundred-dollar bills.
I stop the van in front of the house on the circular driveway. As soon as I turn off the ignition, Lucas steps out the front door. Was he watching out a window, waiting for us to arrive? Probably couldn’t wait to flirt with Hollyn again. His dress shirt is pristinely pressed, and his slacks are perfectly tailored. A glint of silver in his hair shines in the early afternoon light. This is a kids' birthday party, not a funeral. When we step out, he directs us where to set up, his gaze never leaving Hollyn, and that fuels the fire already raging inside me.
After we’re all set up, party goers start arriving in droves. Kids of all ages run around with bubble wands, screams of laughter sound as they jump around in the bounce house, and there’s a petting zoo. What kid needs a freaking petting zoo? Normal kids get arcade games and pizza with an adult dressed up in a creepy-as-fuck mouse costume, not this.
All afternoon kids, parents, and Lucas come up to the table to take a cupcake or two. Hollyn’s so graceful as she makes sure to bend down as each kid approaches so she’s eye level with them and tells them all about the magical unicorn cupcakes. All the kids absolutely adore her, and I can see why. Hell, I adore her.
As the party winds down, Lucas prowls to the table for the tenth time today. Still wearing his overpriced suit and sticking out like a sore thumb. Of course, the first thing he does is flash her his pearly whites as she stands in front of the table organizing cupcakes. Then he turns to me, his smile not as bright. I give him a tight smile and a head nod, but what I really want to do is punch the smugness off his face.
“Everyone loved your cupcakes. They were a tremendous hit with the kids and the parents.” Lucas stops next to Hollyn.
“Thank you so much. The compliment means so much to us,” She points a finger between us, “and the bakery.”
“What’s the trick for the extra burst of flavor in the frosting? Or is that because you made them?” His eyes crinkle in the corners.
She laughs and brushes her hand down his bicep. He glances down at her hand, his smile growing wider. Don’t cause a scene, Van. I repeat that over and over in my head because if I don’t, I might hurl my body across this table and tackle his old ass to the ground. We’re both about the same height, similar body build, though I think I’m more agile than him.
“You’re too sweet Lucas. Actually, the secret is an extra pinch of salt. It enhances the sweetness, so the flavors burst on your tongue.” Her tongue peeks out to wet her bottom lip. His gaze lingers there, watching her every movement.
“Well, anyway. I wanted to come over here and thank you for the cupcakes. My daughter loved the unicorn decorations.” He pauses. “But also, if you aren’t too busy, would you want to get a cup of coffee sometime?”
Her cheeks flush pink as she fumbles for her words. “Oh. Um.”
Unable to hold back any longer, I ask, “Do you always try to hook up with women at your kid’s birthday parties?” The bite to my tone is clear.
She whirls around and shoots daggers my way. If literal steam could come out a person’s ears, hers would be bursting. All I can do is shrug. I call it like I see it.
Lucas laughs nervously before directing his attention back to Hollyn. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention. It was nice to talk to another female, especially one who isn’t seven and only using me to buy her toys.”
“No. It’s alright. Since the party is over, we better get cleaned up and out of your way.”
“It was really nice talking to you.”
“You too, Lucas.”
Once Lucas is out of earshot, she turns to me, brows furrowed, nostrils flaring. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
My eyes go wide. “Me? I’m not the one trying to find my next lay at my kid’s birthday party. And he’s like twice your age. Maybe he should find someone closer to his own age bracket.”
She flings her arms in the air and exhales an exasperated sigh. “Sure, he’s a little older, but he’s not twice my age. He’s probably closer to my age than you. Anyway, we were only talking. Two adults having a conversation. As if you would know anything about that.”
“If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck—”
“That makes you an asshole.” She turns and stomps away.
“No. It makes it a duck!” I yell to her back. “Fuck.” I turn back toward the table and kick the leg. “Shit.” I rake my hands through my hair. When I come to, a pair of innocent brown eyes stare up at me from the opposite side of the table. “Dammit. Don’t repeat that. Any of that.” I scan the table and pluck a left-over cupcake from the rack and hold it out to the little boy. “Have a cupcake.” He snatches it from my fingers and runs off, shoving the frosting in his face.
I finish boxing up the left-over cupcakes, take down the displays, and fold up the table. When I’m done, I haul everything to the driveway, where I find Hollyn throwing boxes around in the back of the van to make room for the tables and racks.
I drop the table to the ground. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s fine, Van. Just get the stuff so we can get out of here.”
She doesn’t spare a glance my way, so I turn around and collect everything to load into the van. The entire ride back to the bakery is silent. She sits with her arms crossed, staring out the passenger door window while I white knuckle the steering wheel. Jealousy and anger bubbling over. I hated how he looked at her, how he touched her. And she let him. I have no claim to her, but fuck, I want one.
When we arrive back at The Sweet Spot, I’m still in a foul mood. We get out and unload the van. Each of us grab an armful of items and haul everything into the bakery. Watching another man flirting with her in front of me was maddening. And she didn’t realize she was flirting back. The brushing of his arm, laughing at whatever he said. If that doesn’t give a man mixed signals, I don’t know what does. But what if she was purposely flirting back?
Finally, I break the silence. “You didn’t find it inappropriate that he was flirting with you?”
She halts in her tracks. “We’re doing this again? He wasn’t flirting. He was being friendly.”
“Friendly?” I scoff. “He was borderline stalking you. Constantly seeking you out. Touching you at every possible moment.”
“You know what? Maybe he was flirting.” Her tone is sharp. “Why can’t a guy flirt with me? Is something wrong with me that I’m unflirtable?” She throws her hands in the air.
My teeth grind as I get into her face. “It’s because he was doing it right in front of me.”
“I’m not yours to claim, so I don’t see what the problem is! Plus, you already told me you don’t want me. So, what? No one else can have me either?” She drops a foot back, separating herself from me.
My face falls and I blow out a breath. “I never said I didn’t want you.”
“After the kiss, you said it was a mistake.” She wraps her arms around herself.
I turn and rest my palms on the worktable. “I kissed you during a vulnerable moment. That was the mistake. If I had it my way, I would kiss you and never stop kissing you.”
“He just wanted to tell me how much he enjoyed my cupcakes, especially the frosting.”
At the sound of her voice, I turn to face her. My nostrils flare thinking of Lucas near her, telling her how much he likes her baked goods. And she’s right, she’s not mine. Not yet anyway.
“What’s that look for?”
The thought of her with someone else drives me mad. And fuck if I know why, but I don’t like it. So, for the time being, I’ll kiss the hell out of her until she forgets any other man exists. I step into her personal space again, she cranes her neck up to meet my eyes. “Because I want to be the only one to lick your frosting.” The words are a whisper off my lips.
The air between us crackles with electricity. Her eyes shift back and forth, searching mine. Her voice is low when she says, “Why do I have a feeling frosting no longer means… frosting.”
“Because it doesn’t.” I inch my lips closer to hers.
“Then what does it mean?”
“Exactly that. I’m going to lick your frosting.”
Twelve
Cupcake Vixen
Hollyn
Without a second thought, his lips crash to mine. Demanding and frantic. My hands cup his cheeks and I hold tight. I need him to keep me afloat, so I don’t drown in a sea of heat and passion. Because it would be so easy to get lost in him. Lost in this.
He whirls us around and pushes until my lower back hits the stainless steel table edge. A small whimper escapes me.
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he mumbles against my lips.
“It’s okay. I fully expect you to make it up to me.”
“I can manage that.” He kisses me again.
Van grips my waist and lifts until my butt contacts the top of the cool metal. He wedges himself between my spread legs while never breaking our kiss. His hard cock presses against the apex of my thighs and I fight the urge to rub against him like a cat in heat. Instead, I tug him closer and let him do the rubbing.
Not waiting a second longer, Van rips at the buttons of my chef’s coat until the sides fall open, exposing my white, almost see through camisole and light pink bra. Van’s gaze wanders down my chest, admiring every inch of me before coming back up to meet my eyes.
“Shit. This is what you’ve been wearing under this the entire time?”
“It gets hot, so I need to wear as little as possible underneath.” My breathing quickens from his heated stare.
“I’m going to get hard every time I see you in your chef’s coat because I’ll know this is what you’re wearing underneath.” His hands wrap around my waist under my coat. The light brush of his fingertips sends goosebumps sprouting across my body.
“Maybe one day I’ll surprise you and have nothing on underneath.” I bring a hand up and cup his cheek. My thumb brushes over the light stubble and I imagine what it would feel like between my thighs. Instinctively, I rock my hips against him, wanting to feel it right now.
He closes his eyes and groans, then presses his forehead to mine. “You would do that. You cupcake vixen. Perhaps I should punish you for that.”
“What are you going to do?” I challenge.
“Bring you to the cusp of orgasm, but not let you come.”
I gasp. “You wouldn’t.”
“Keep teasing and you’ll find out.”
I reach down between us and cup his rock-hard cock, giving it a playful squeeze before running my hand up and down his shaft. His eyes pinch shut as if he’s in pain but then his lips part, forming an O. I continue with the motion of gripping, squeezing, and stroking until his hooded eyes meet mine.
“This will definitely get you a punishment.”
He grips my wrist to halt my movements and then lifts my hand to set it on the tabletop, the warmth of my palm contrasting against the cool steel. Then he repeats the motion with my other hand.
“Lean back,” he demands, and I do as he says. With a flick of his wrist, he undoes the snap of my pants and pulls the zipper down. “Now lift yourself up.”
Using all my strength, I lift my butt off the table. Luckily, Van is quick and slides my pants over my hips and drags them down my legs. My heated skin falls to the metal and sends a shiver coursing through my body. Van rises to his feet. His calloused fingertips drag up the side of thighs until his hands are at the top of my ass. With a firm grip, he squeezes the soft flesh before lifting and pulling me forward until I’m resting on the edge.
“There. Right where I want you.”
He runs the pad of his finger down the front of my now damp panties. I rock my hips to get more friction, but it’s useless. He pulls his hand away.
“Now, now. We were going to do this your way, but you didn’t listen, so now we’re doing it my way.”
I nibble on my lower lip in anticipation of what he’s going to do next. He moves his hand back between my legs, rubbing my aching pussy again, but this time using two fingers. Only a thin piece of fabric keeps him from plunging inside of me. He continues to rub up and down while he lowers his head and places a kiss on the swell of my breast. Then he does the same on the other side. I bring a hand up and thread my fingers through the hair on the back of his head. Arching my back, I press my chest toward him. I want to feel more of him. All of him. Everywhere. He continues sucking, nipping, and kissing my breasts all while still rubbing me on the outside of my now soaked panties. I’m ravenous for his touch. Like at any moment, I’m going to combust. Because I haven’t been touched like this since the last time his hands, his lips, his expert tongue were on me. And his tongue is what dreams are made of.
Using one hand, he tugs down the neckline of my camisole, taking the cup of my bra with it, and exposing my pebbled nipple to the cool air. His tongue swirls around the peak before sucking it into his mouth. He bites down, causing me to throw my head back and moan. I grind against his hand, my grip on his hair growing tighter. The buildup has me on the edge of climaxing, when suddenly Van pulls away. A whimper escapes me from the loss.
He stares at me with mischievous eyes. “I told you I’d bring you to the edge and not let you fall.”
“I hate you. If you won’t finish what you started, I will.” I move my hand to the front of my panties, but Van stops me. A deep growl rumbles from his throat.
“Not so fast. I didn’t say I wouldn’t finish.”
I quirk an eyebrow, challenging him.
“I think it’s time I taste some of your frosting.”
Van bends down and hikes one of my legs over his shoulder. He runs his nose along my wet panties. With one hand, he moves them to the side and holds them there while he uses his other hand to spread me open. His tongue darts out and licks up my slit. My breath hitches and a tremble courses through my body. He repeats the motion using the flat of this tongue this time and I moan out his name, which turns into a chant. Like if I keep saying his name, he’ll continue lapping at my pussy. Because I need more. Need him.
“Keep going. Don’t stop.” My words come out in breathy pants.
The tip of his tongue flicks my clit before he dives back in, licking me from bottom to top again. His saliva mixing with my arousal. He finds my opening and tongue fucks me. My hips buck, wanting more of him. More of everything.
“Oh Van. I need you. More. More.”
My pleas don’t go unanswered as his grip on my panties grows tighter until the sound of fabric ripping fills the room. Now with his extra free hand, he shoves a finger into my needy opening. Thrusting in and out while he flicks my clit with his tongue. Every action sending me one step closer to orgasmic bliss. He enters me again with a second finger, stretching me more. My moans and pants echo around the kitchen as Van continues pleasuring me.
I thread my fingers through his hair. My fingers grip the strands, holding him in place. The stubble on his cheeks rubs against my thigh, it’s rough but God it feels good. The slow buildup grows stronger with each passing second. He wraps his lips around my clit and sucks, and that’s my undoing. My entire body vibrates as my orgasm floods through me. My screams of pleasure fill the kitchen. Van’s thrusts become harder and faster as he sucks on my clit. My toes curl as another orgasmic tsunami washes over my entire body and Van continues to lap up every last bit of my arousal.
Finally, my orgasm subsides and Van stands. He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “Fuck. You really do taste as sweet as frosting.”
“Any time you have a sweet tooth, you are more than welcome to do that again.” My chest heaves as I collect my breath.
“Trust me, I’ll take you up on that offer. But right now, I’m not done with you.”
Van steps between my legs again. He cups my cheeks and presses his lips to mine. I can taste myself on him and I’m not the slightest bit bothered by it. His fingers thread through my hair at the back of my head while his other hand travels between us. Without missing a beat, he’s undoing the button on his pants and shoving them down. He grips his cock, the head sliding through my wetness starting at my clit and moving down. Then he repeats the process, using my arousal as lube. When he’s at my opening, he pushes in, stretching me. I break our kiss and throw my head back, savoring every delicious inch of him entering me.
“Fucking hell. Your pussy clenching around me… amazing.” Van pulls all the way out and slides back in. Once he’s fully seated, he stops. “Shit. I don’t have a condom.”
I lower my head until our foreheads touch. “I’m on the pill.”
