Page 2 of Their Little Sugar Plum
Something lit up in Mikayla’s eyes. I think I uncovered a new kink. She loves to be “owned” by me, and called “pet.” Also “baby girl” and “princess.” But she also might like being shared.
Last night was the first night I truly considered sharing her. Colton isn’t quite right for us because he’s hung up on some other girl, but I’m going to let the idea percolate in my mind for a bit.
Mikayla stands in the kitchen, talking to me across the open plan of her apartment while she bakes. She’s happily narrating everything she does. I could listen to the sound of her voice for hours, for an eternity. It’s only been a few months, but I love this girl.
I haven’t told her yet. I should, soon.
She turns around, looking cute as fuck in her velvet red dress, her black hair in pigtails. “I have to add more of the sugar mixture to the cherries.”
“Sugar plums are a lot of work.”
“Yep.” She moves around the stove, turning on a burner and putting a pot of water over it. “But they’re worth it. I want to make these for my granny. She always made them for us, growing up.”
Her grandmother recently went into assisted living. Mikayla visits her every week, and her grandmother’s mind is still sharp, but she can’t stand and cook or bake like she used to.
“Are you sure you’re okay in there?” she asks over her shoulder. “Do you need anything? You can turn on the TV if you want?—”
“Princess. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m happy talking while you bake.”
“Well, there’s also this.” She walks over to me, holding her phone. “You wanted me to screenshot, um…”
I wait, grinning at the way she blushes. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”
“Um. Positions. Ideas.” She clears her throat while she unlocks her phone. “So, yeah. I did that.”
“Let’s see.” I start scrolling through her photos. “Where are the ideas you were supposed to screenshot for me?”
“Oh, they’re in this folder, here.” She taps on a file. “Wait, that’s not the one?—”
But the file is already open. The image at the top shows her in a bathing suit.
“Hold on, I want to see this.”
“No, wait.” She tries to take the phone from me.
“Mikayla.” I lower my voice. “Let me look at you in a swimsuit. I haven’t seen you in one before.”
She frowns, but stops trying to get the phone.
Our relationship is fairly new; we’ve only been together for four months. She doesn’t post bikini pics on PhotoGram, and we’ve never gone swimming or hot tubbing. After seeing some of these pictures of her, though, I’m thinking I’ll need to remedy that.
One in particular grabs my attention. She’s standing between her best friend and another man. The guy looks to be in his forties, and he has his arm around Mikayla.
I take a closer look. Violet’s in the image, sure, but the focus…the focus is on this old man and my girl.
I manipulate the photo so it zooms in on the man. “Who’s this?”
“Oh, that’s just Violet’s dad, Mr. Clark.”
“Mr. Clark?” I zoom back out so the frame only shows Mikayla and Mr. Clark. “You two look close.”
“No. I mean, a little—he’s my best friend’s dad, after all.”
“Right.” I think there’s more to it than that.
She blushes. “I gotta get back to the sugar plums.”
“You do that, little girl.” I stare hard at the image of Mr. Clark while Mikayla returns to drizzling sugar over the rolling pan of sugared cherries. Then I open the folder she first intended. Image after image of people engaging in D/s scenes. Most are of couples, but there are a few groups of three and four.
