Page 17 of Cookies and Control

Rocky says, “The only thing special about my first time is that it was my first time. I’m pretty sure it sucked for my girlfriend.”

Betsy rests her hands on Rocky’s shoulders. “Exactly. The point of the auction was to make my first time memorable and fun. I want that. With both of you.”

Rocky and I don’t know what to say until Betsy breaks the silence, her sultry voice something a stepfather should never hear. “So, Rocky, about that cream…”

She strokes a finger over her panties, drawing attention to the damp spot. Also something a stepfather should never witness.

Rocky’s eyes darken. He takes her hand, slowly bringing her finger to his mouth. His lips part, and he sucks.

The display fills me with confusion. They’re going to regroup with or without me. I need a new plan. Which plan am I on? D, E, F…? I lost track.

Betsy’s breath hitches, her eyes widening as she watches Rocky, her lips parting slightly. The air in the room shifts, growing thicker along with my cock that I want to stuff into her parted lips.

Her hips rock in response to my brother’s actions. It’s dangerous and exhilarating, pushing the boundaries of right and wrong, control and restraint. I pull Betsy’s hand from Rocky’s grasp, allowing it to fall anywhere that isn’t his mouth.

She licks her lips. “I have ideas, lots of them. Things I want to try. Are either of youupfor it?”

I find my voice, though it’s rough. “Where did you get these ideas, Betsy?”

She shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. “Romance books. They’re quite educational.”

I shift uncomfortably. All of those trips to the library weren’t as innocent or as properly educational as I thought. “Those books don’t portray reality.”

“You mean women aren’t always supposed to enjoy sex and have lots of orgasms?”

“That’s not what he means,” Rocky blurts, surprising me by backing me up.

Betsy tilts her head, her eyes meeting mine. “Are you willing to help me sort reality from fantasy, or should I trust someone else with that task?” She returns her attention to Rocky.

“I’ll make your fantasy meet reality,” Rocky commits.

I hold up a hand, stopping him. “A moment, Rocky. We need to talk. Alone.”

Betsy nods, sliding off Rocky’s lap. “I’ll be in the kitchen making a batch of cookies for the holiday party. And I lost my earbuds, so I’ll have my audiobook playing. You can get a taste of what I like.”

Eleven

Betsy

I open the audiobook on my phone, selecting the bookmark for my favorite scene—the consensual-non-consent scene that’s long been my secret indulgence, a guilty pleasure that I hoped I could one day play out.

This can be a talking point like Lazovski mentioned.

Funneling the energy of the people who admired me at the sex club, the subsequent orgasms from Bull’s mouth and hand, and Rocky’s agreement to have sex, I imagine myself as the heroine.

Indiscernible voices from the other room pull me back to reality. I start gathering ingredients for Bull’s favorite cookies. Flour, sugar, vanilla extract. I pause and consider the vanilla. Isthis a bad idea? I’ve been making these cookies since I was a kid, but maybe that’s the point.

An idea sparks. I’ll add something different, something to make them exciting and fresh. I rummage through the pantry, finding the peppermint extract. Perfect. A spicy twist on a vanilla classic. He can love both versions, can’t he?

The old and the new me.

Tension in their voices drifts in. I reach for my phone, cranking up the volume. The scene is getting to the good part where the men take control. The roughness and the power exchange make my heart pound. I want them to hear it, to understand.

I want Bull to stop controlling himself and control me—in new ways.

The familiar motions of mixing the dough grounds me as the scene plays out—the woman’s protests, the men’s demands, the naughty game they’ve all agreed to.

I dip my finger into the dough and bring the new flavor to my mouth. So satisfying. Why hadn’t I tried this before?

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