Page 15 of Baking with Bryan

“Sit.”

“What?”

“I missed out last time. I won’t again. Take a seat. It’s time for you to enjoyyourdessert.”

She smiles wickedly, and my stomach clenches.

“Yes, ma’am.” Walking over, I take my seat.

Winking, she drops her fork. “How clumsy of me? Let me get that.”

Pushing back her chair, she kneels, and my mouth dries out. Anticipation makes my muscles flex as the blood rushes down. Her hands skim over my legs, to my thighs. She squeezes, and I jerk. Her giggle floats up to me.

“Funny, baby girl. You keep teasing me, and I’ll return the favor.” The words die in my throat as she pops my jeans and pulls down the zipper. I grunt as her little hand snakes into my cotton boxer briefs and pulls me free. Her hands tighten around me, and I close my eyes.

My inability to see her adds an air of anticipation that has my spine tingling. Wet and hot, her mouth surrounds my tip as she sucks. I swear and reach down to grab her hair. She releases me with a pop.

“Uh uh. I’m in charge. Hands on the table.” She demands.

I grip the table and bite down a moan as she takes me deeper. Her fist tightens around me, chasing the path of her lips as she sets a firm, steady rhythm that has my hips lifting. She gags and relaxes her throat, taking me even deeper.

She hums, and I release a strangled sound, knowing I won’t last long. Not when I’m living my eternal fantasy.

“I’m gonna—”

She cups my balls, and I shudder as the base of my spine tingles. My balls draw up tight. She suctions hard. Grunting, I tense as warmth rockets from me, and she swallows greedily, pumping her head to drain me of every drop. Slumped back in my chair, I try to catch my breath as she cleans me with her wicked tongue and tucks me back in.

Popping from beneath the table, like a nymph, she takes her seat. “Dessert was delicious. Thank you, Bryan.” Her throaty purr makes me chuckle. Where did this sex kitten come from?

“My pleasure. Never forget, I like to give as good as I get.”

“I’ll remember that,” I rasp, before taking a sip of the wine.

“December wants to do a hoop instead of a traditional bouquet. They also ordered a massive ring to stand behind them in the tent.” I make mental notes as she rattles off specs.

“Did she say what she wanted flower-wise?”

“She did. Narcissa parrot tulips, holy, evergreen pieces, and a few pinecones if you can slip them in. They want it to be rustic Christmas.”

My mind conjures up images that would suit their needs.

“Okay. I’m getting some concepts. I don’t have a hoop, but we can put the flowers together and see if they match visually.”

“I thought potted plants would be a nice table placement that could double as gifts for the guests,” Nor suggests.

“Given our families, that seems perfect. What about Christmas ornaments as favors? We have enough snowflakes we could easily personalize.” I finish my cake and stand on weak, trembling limbs.

“Let’s head back to the worktable I have set up for us. I pulled some things I thought might work, and we’ll add the rest.” I offer my hand, and she takes it, twining our fingers. Peace and joy, unlike any I’ve ever known, flow through me. Nora is the missing piece to the puzzle that’s alluded me.

“This is beautiful.” Nora slips away from me and runs her fingers over the white gardenias and calla lilies resting on ever-green trimmings.

“Yes, it is,” I smirk, never taking my eyes off her. Pink blooms on her cheek. “Your blush is my new favorite sight.”

“Stop.”

“You should get used to compliments from me, baby girl.”

She smiles. “I don’t want this to take away from their moment, though.”

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