It was a hard call to make. I had promised to cut back on lunchtime treats when working at home, but the craving became so intense that I couldn’t complete any work. I puttered around the kitchen. I tried taking a hot shower. I drank a large cup of coffee. All to no avail. Nothing could suppress the urge to indulge.
Finally, I made the call to Barbary Breads and Buns.
Dean picked up on the first ring. For me to have called him at that time of day at the bakery, he knew what I wanted but he made me beg anyway. Then, just to rub my nose in how weak I was, he forced me to be explicit about what I wanted. Smooth or rough on top? Dry or wet all over? Sweet or with a little kick of spice? I made my selections, whispered, “Hurry!” and slammed down the phone.
It didn’t take him long to appear. The restaurant wasn’t that far from the apartment. When I opened the door, he took one look at me, smiled and rushed into the apartment.
“Why are you still dressed?” he asked in a soft voice.
He proceeded to shed his own clothes with record speed, everything but his black bikini briefs. Then he just stood there, hands on his hips, looking like he’d walked off the cover of an erotic novel\’one of those books where the hero is a scruffy, bad boy, ex-Marine type. My ex-Marine’s hard edges were softened by silver blonde curls and the sky blue eyes of an angel. It didn’t hurt that he carried the aroma of warm sugar and vanilla from the baking he’d done all morning.
I glanced at my black terry cloth robe. “This isn’t dressed. Besides I had to open the door for you. The neighbors ¦”
“The neighbors,” he interrupted, “are going to hear your screams through the walls anyway. I’ve told you that before.”
My fingers fumbled as I undid the robe, letting it fall open. “You know I’m shy.”
“You’re a tease, sweetheart. Teasing is not a good thing, especially when a certain someone is on the clock.”
He moved closer towering over me. He slipped his hands inside the robe. His hands were warm and rough against my breasts.
“Seems like eternity since I held you.”
“This morning,” I managed to say. My nipples throbbed in time with my heart, the effect cascading down between my legs.
“Like I said, eternity.” His eyes held mine captive while his thumbs scraped back and forth over the fullest part of my breasts. “I’ve been dreaming about your breasts all day. Mouth watering at the thought of suckling so hard and so long that the milk rises and fills my mouth. Then I would move down your body to kiss your lips and drink the cream down there.”
I fell against him. “Dean. Please.”
“Please what?” He slipped a hand around my waist then over my butt, a finger grazing the valley in between. “Please take you there?” He slipped a finger inside me.
“No,” I said.
He removed his finger. “Okay. Not there, not yet. One day,” he added, then held me tight as I shuddered. “Give me your lips.”
I tilted my head back. He gazed down at me, studying my face and the long fall of my hair.
“Mine,” he whispered, then shook his head as if with wonder before lowering his lips to mine. His mouth tasted of cinnamon, my favorite flavoring. When he tried to pull away, I grabbed his head and deepened the kiss until he laughed against my mouth.
“I missed you, too, baby.”
Then he eased the robe off my body and picked me up in his arms. I wrapped my legs tight around his waist and buried my face against his neck as he carried me into the bedroom. He held me, rubbing, rocking.
“You’re so wet. All over. You’re ready for this fuck, aren’t you?”
He pressed my back against a window. The sun beat against my bare skin as it shone through the thin pane of glass, all that separated me from the air and the earth two floors below.
“Yes.” I whispered. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Laughing, he slipped his finger deep inside of me, stroking gently. I gasped. He seized the opportunity to cover my mouth and slip his tongue inside. He pressed me harder against the glass as I writhed. It shuddered. I began to whimper. He pulled away to rain wet kisses against my mouth, my chin, down my neck. My nipples ached impatiently for their turn even as my heart pounded in fear.
“They’re like rose buds. So tight but plump at the same time.” He tweaked one hard, sending a frisson of pain and pleasure through my body. I fell against him, away from the glass. He squeezed harder until I cried out.
“When you called, you said this was what you wanted.” His breath was hot against my face. “For me to be rough. For me to make you wet.” His tongue traced the curve of my ear, then he blew against the wetness. I shivered. He held me tight. “Would you prefer I be softer now?”
I nodded, not because I couldn’t handle his rougher side. There were times when I wanted nothing more from him. But today I had a different need.
I sighed in anticipation as his grip loosened. He rocked me gently, rubbing my back as if I were an upset child. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Your mouth,” I murmured against his chest.
He tilted my head back. His lips brushed mine.
“Where?” he breathed.
“Where?” he repeated with his infinite patience. “How?”
“Between my legs,” I whispered. “I want your lips and tongue there.”
He dropped me gently onto the bed. I spread my legs. And waited.
“You’re glistening,” he said. “Your lips are swollen, red and ripe. You were tight around my finger. How much tighter will you be around my cock?” He slid two fingers inside me then. “Shall I stick in a third and perhaps a fourth?” His thrusts deepened. “That’s how wide it is, you know.”
I tried to close my legs so I could ride his hand, but he wouldn’t let me. He slapped the inside of my thighs with his other hand, back and forth, forcing me to stay wide as he thrust gently.
“I know how wide it is, you bastard.” I whimpered as he hit a perfect spot. “Now do something with it.”
He removed his fingers.
“No,” he said. “You’re not going to get ˜it’ this time. Next time you call me for a lunch time treat, I want you to open that door naked. Understand?” The bed sagged dramatically as he crawled between my legs. “Maybe even wear those nipple clamps I gave you, the ones that vibrate.”
“Anything,” I said, spreading my legs so wide the muscles jumped in my thighs. “Just ¦ just ¦ do something.” That was all the invitation he needed.
His tongue slid between the fold of flesh, tasting me. He made sounds of pleasure, of appreciation, like I was the most delicate delectable treat in the world. I gripped the bed, trying to hold myself steady so I didn’t buck against his face. I wanted what he was doing to last forever. It was all wonderfully bearable until he began to suck on my clit like it was a little lollipop.
When I came, he dug his hands into my hips, holding me still so that he could continue to lick and lap and press with the flat of his tongue. My screams reverberated around the room and through the walls. The second orgasm was less intense. No screams this time just grunts that always embarrassed me, but from the look on Dean’s face, did something else entirely for him.
“Kiss me,” I demanded.
Smiling, he skimmed his hands over my legs, up my stomach and then to my breasts. He settled down beside me, pulling me against him. His body was slick with sweat, too. His mouth tasted of me, sweet and salty.
“Did I give you what you needed?” he asked.
“Not quite.” At his concerned frown, I added, “The sticky buns topped with pistachios and extra cinnamon.”
His lips brushed mine. “You really wanted my buns?” He pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek. “I mean my other buns?”
“Both buns, actually.”
“You’re greedy.” He started to rise from the bed. “I’ll bring them home tonight. My break is over.”
“Wait,” I said, arching my back. His eyes darkened as his eyes centered on my breasts. I traced a swollen nipple. “You haven’t taken my money since we married, but…” I stared at his poor unattended cock peeking out of the top of his waistband. “Would you like your tip?”
His mouth opened but nothing came out. He glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed, then back at me.
“You know I tip well,” I said with a smile.
“Amen to that,” he said and fell back into the bed.