Baker Daddy (Small Falls #3)

Chapter 12

Dwight

I woke up in Marie’s bed, the room bathed in that soft, early morning light that makes everything feel quiet and still. The space next to me was empty, the sheet she had used bunched up at the foot of the mattress. I lay there, groggy, my mind slowly piecing together the night before. The warmth of her back against my chest, the rhythm of her breaths, the way she fit perfectly in my arms. We hadn’t made love, but damn, it felt like the closest I’d ever been to anyone.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shared a bed with someone without having sex. It had felt amazing. Like we were sharing something impossibly intimate.

I stretched, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling the tightness from sleeping in a new place. My mind drifted back to our conversation before we fell asleep. Her trust, her willingness to explore something new with me, it all came rushing back. I could still see her, relaxed and content, her cheeks still flushed from the spanking earlier. That image stuck with me, making my heart beat faster, a kind of anticipation buzzing just beneath the surface.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, the cool morning air nipping at my heels. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I called out softly, "Marie?"

No reply, just the quiet hum of the apartment waking up. I ran a hand through my hair, messy from sleep. A twinge of disappointment—I would've loved to see her face first thing. But then, I remembered her words from last night.

"Yes, Daddy. However you want, Daddy."

A grin tugged at my lips. Maybe she had plans. I hoped she did.

The hallway stretched out before me, the scent of fresh coffee drawing me in. I padded barefoot towards the kitchen, the wooden floor creaking softly under my steps. The aroma grew stronger, but it was the sight in the kitchen that really woke me up.

Marie, bent over the counter, not a stitch of clothing on her.

The morning light poured in through the window, tracing every curve, every line of her body. My pulse quickened, the calm of the morning shattered by a surge of desire. I paused at the doorway, taking her in, my heart pounding in my chest. She had my full attention, every inch of her calling out to me.

She turned her head slightly, catching my gaze. "Morning," she said, her voice playful but her eyes sparkling with intent. This was no accident, no casual pose. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Well. Good morning," I managed to reply, my voice rougher than I intended. I stepped closer, my body responding to hers, words failing me. She smiled, that mischievous grin that always got to me.

"I thought you might be hungry," she said, arching her back slightly, a subtle invitation.

"Starving," I replied. This wasn't some spontaneous moment; she'd planned this, for me. The realization sent a surge of desire straight to my groin.

Her blonde curls cascaded down her back, wild and free, contrasting with the smooth expanse of her bare skin. She was always beautiful, but this... this was something else. Vulnerable, yet so damn enthralling. I couldn't look away, couldn't speak. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears.

"See anything that takes your fancy?" Marie asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She arched her back slightly, just enough to emphasize the curve of her ass. My cock twitched in response, hardening against the thin fabric of my lounge pants.

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. "You're playing with fire, little girl," I managed to say, my voice low and rough. Two could play this game. I stepped closer, the cool tiles beneath my bare feet grounding me even as my pulse raced. Then I tucked my fingers under the waist of my boxers and tugged them down. My cock sprang out, thick and needy, desperate for her.

Marie's smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I thought you were hungry, Daddy," she said, her tone innocent but her meaning clear. She was baiting me, and damn if I didn't want to take the bait.

"Hungry doesn't begin to cover it," I replied, my voice dropping to a near growl. I let my heavy cock slap gently against her ass, testing her reaction. She didn't flinch. Instead, I saw the glisten of lust on her pussy lips, her body responding to mine.

The tension in the room ratcheted up, each breath drawing us tighter, closer. The air was thick with desire, the scent of coffee mixing with the underlying musk of arousal. My body ached with need, every nerve ending alive and alert.

Marie shifted slightly, her voice a soft purr. "Well, I wouldn't want you to take what you want. Don’t go hungry, Daddy."

That word—Daddy—sent a shockwave through me. It was a game, a role we played, but it was more than that. It was trust, it was surrender, and it was the hottest fucking thing I'd ever heard. I stepped closer still, my body pressing against hers, feeling her warmth, her willingness.

My hands found her hips. Her skin was smooth, warm. The counter was cool against me, but my body was all heat and hunger. I leaned in, my chest pressing against her back, feeling her breath hitch as I made contact. Every curve of her fit against me like a puzzle piece clicking into place.

"You gonna help me with this coffee, Daddy?" she murmured, her voice smooth and calm.

I chuckled low, my lips brushing against her ear. "Oh, I'll help you, little girl. But I think you need something more than coffee."

She shivered, and I could feel her melt against me. That yielding, that willingness to let me lead, it sent a surge of power through me. Not the kind that comes from commanding a stage, but something deeper, more intimate.

I ran my hands up and down her sides, my thumbs tracing the curve of her breasts. Her skin was so soft, so warm. I could feel her heartbeat, steady and trusting. I wanted to deserve that trust, to be the man she saw when she looked at me with those wide, eager eyes.

I let my cock slide up and down her entrance, teasing her, teasing me. She moaned, a sound so sweet it made my head spin. "Dwight . . . " she whispered, a plea, a prayer.

"What do you want, little girl?" I asked, my voice rough but steady. I needed to hear her say it.

She pushed back against me, her body begging for more. "I want . . . I want you to tell me what pastries you're gonna give me, Daddy."

Jesus, this woman.

She knew how to play me, how to make my blood run hot and my heart pound like a kick drum. I grabbed her ass, squeezing, claiming. "Well, I was thinking about stuffing some thick cronuts with fresh cream," I growled, pushing into her slow and steady.

She groaned, her head dropping forward. "Yes, Daddy. More."

I gave her more, alright. I pushed in deeper, my hips pressing against her ass, my hands gripping her flesh.

"You like that, little girl?" I asked, my voice a low growl. "You like hearing about my pastries while I fuck you?"

She nodded, her breath coming in quick gasps. "Yes . . . yes, Daddy."

I reached around, grabbing her breasts, feeling their weight in my hands. She was perfect, so fucking perfect. I wanted to consume her, to devour her whole.

I started to move inside her. Slow at first, but getting faster.

We moved together like we'd been doing it for years. Her hips rocked back against me, her ass bumping against my pelvis on each thrust. I could feel the tension building inside me, my cock swelling and throbbing.

She was so wet, so hot around me. Her moans were music to my ears, driving me to move faster, to fuck her harder.

"Fuck . . . " she groaned as I hit a particularly deep spot inside her.

I knew what she needed, what she craved. I reached down between her legs, finding her clit with my fingers and rubbing fast circles over it.

She cried out, a sound that was half pleasure and half desperation. I could tell she was close, her body trembling beneath my touch.

I felt myself getting closer too. The heat in my belly was spreading outwards, consuming me. But it was too soon.

I pulled out, and then carefully flipped her over, needing to see her face, needing to see her eyes.

She looked up at me, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted. She was the picture of debauchery, the image of innocence. She was mine.

"You're mine, little girl," I told her, my voice a possessive growl. "All mine."

And she smiled, a soft, sweet smile that cut right through me. "Yes, Daddy," she said. "All yours."

The room was filled with the sound of our bodies meeting, slick and hungry. Marie's hands, soft and tentative, cupped me, her fingers gently touching my balls. A jolt of pleasure shot through me, and I pushed deeper, harder, my body coiling tight. The sight of her beneath me, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glazed with desire, was almost too much to bear.

"Fuck, Marie," I ground out, my voice barely recognizable. "You feel so damn good."

She groaned, her body arching up to meet mine, her breasts pressing against my chest. I could feel her heart pounding, matching the rhythm of my own. Every inch of her called out to me, begging for more.

"You're sexy as fuck, you know that?" I growled, my hips moving faster, my cock pushing deeper. Her moans filled my ears, driving me crazy. I could feel her tightening around me, her body responding to every thrust.

"You belong to me, little girl," I told her, my voice a possessive growl. "All mine."

Her eyes met mine, wide and trusting. She nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Yes, Daddy," she whispered.

I could feel my orgasm building, my body tensing. I pulled out just in time, my cock pulsing as I came all over her beautiful, pert breasts. She looked down, watching as I marked her, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. Then, she leaned down and licked it up, her eyes never leaving mine. It was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen.

I leaned down, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss. Our tongues tangled, the taste of her, of me, of us, mingling together. I pulled back, tracing lazy circles on her body, my hands memorizing every curve, every dip.

"You okay, little girl?" I murmured, my voice soft. I always needed to know she was safe, that she was good.

She nodded, a soft, happy exhale escaping her lips. That sound, that fucking sound. It spoke volumes about her trust in me, in this evolving relationship. It was a sound I wanted to hear every damn day.

Eventually, we disengaged, cleaning up in a companionable silence. I couldn't help but steal kisses, my hands finding excuses to touch her, to hold her. I was still riding the euphoria of what just happened, my body humming with contentment.

Marie, flushed and smiling, glanced at the clock. "You'd better not be late for your bakery opening," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I grinned, pulling her close. "I'd gladly risk tardiness for mornings like this," I murmured, my lips brushing against hers.

She laughed, shooing me along. "Go on, get ready," she said, pulling on a robe. "We both have work to do."

I watched her as she moved around the room, her body still flushed from our lovemaking. I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, of possession. She was mine, and I was hers. And that was exactly how it should be.

***

The bakery lights flickered on with a hum, chasing away the shadows. The scent of lingering sweetness and yeast was like a balm, soothing the slight ache in my muscles—a pleasant reminder of the morning's activities. Marie trailed behind me, her presence a warm comfort, even more satisfying than the familiar routine of the bakery.

“You ready to see a magician at work?” I asked.

I tossed an apron over my head, the fabric smooth against my neck, and grabbed a massive bowl for the dough. Flour puffed up as I dumped it in, a tiny cloud settling on the counter. Marie hopped onto a stool, her eyes tracking my movements. There was a softness in her gaze, an admiration that made me stand a little taller.

“I’m ready for sure. Can’t wait to try the goods.”

“Oh, you’re gonna like them. I guarantee it.”

"You're in a good mood," she said, her voice still husky from the morning. Her fingers played with a loose thread on her jeans, a hint of nervous energy that was all kinds of endearing.

I cracked an egg, letting the yolk slide into the bowl. "Guess I have a reason to be." I shot her a wink, feeling a warmth in my chest that hadn't been there before. Before her.

Marie watched me, her lips curved up in a constant smile. I could feel her gaze like a physical touch, setting my skin alight. The mixer whirred, the dough hook churning the ingredients into a sticky mess. I leaned against the counter, facing her.

"You ever think about exploring more?" I asked, keeping my voice low. Her eyes widened slightly, curiosity piqued.

"More what?" she asked, leaning in.

I paused, letting the moment draw out. "More of what we talked about. Your little space."

She hesitated, her fingers stilling on that loose thread. There was a flicker of nerves in her eyes, but something else too. Interest. "I haven't... I mean, I don't know if I'd be any good at it."

I shrugged, pushing off the counter to check the dough. It clung to the hook, stretching and pulling. "No rush, baby girl. Just think about it." I turned back to her, holding her gaze. "We take it slow, remember?"

Marie nodded, her shoulders relaxing. She licked her lips, leaving them shiny and enticing. "Okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want to try."

A thrill shot through me, a mix of excitement and pure male satisfaction. I reached out, tucking a wild curl behind her ear. Her cheek leaned into my touch, just for a moment.

"Good girl," I murmured, before turning back to the oven. The first batch of pastries was ready, their golden tops peeking through the glass. I grabbed a towel, wrapping it around my hand to pull out the tray. The heat blasted my face, a stark contrast to the cool air of the bakery.

Marie slipped off the stool, coming to stand beside me. Her arm brushed mine, her body heat seeping into me. I set the tray down, the pastries steaming. Grabbing a tong, I plucked a cronut, its glaze still bubbling.

"Here," I said, holding it out to her. "Careful, it's hot."

Marie took it, her fingers brushing mine. She blew on it softly, her lips pursed. Then she took a bite, her eyes fluttering closed. A soft moan escaped her, sending a jolt straight to my cock.

"Good?" I asked, my voice gruff.

Her eyes opened, dark and hungry. "So good," she whispered. And just like that, I knew. This woman would be my undoing. And I'd let her, gladly.

***

Finally, it was nearly time to open.

Marie looked at the old clock on the wall, its hands pointing to the hour she usually headed to The Daily Grind. She turned to me, her eyes soft.

"Gotta run, hot stuff," she said, her voice light but laced with genuine regret. “Good luck with the opening. Hope it goes well, but please don’t put me out of business.” She slipped behind the counter, her hip gently brushing against mine. I felt that familiar spark, a jolt straight to my heart.

"Come here," I murmured, pulling her close. Our bodies pressed together, and I saw a queue of customers out of the window, waiting to get in. Her arms snaked around my neck, and she stood on her tiptoes, lips meeting mine in a soft, lingering kiss. It tasted like promise, like warmth, like every good thing I didn't know I needed.

A few customers noticed, their smiles approving as they glanced our way. We weren't hiding anymore, Marie and me. It felt . . . good. Right. Like a song played in the correct key after years of being off-tune.

"Text me later?" I asked, my voice low, hopeful. I wanted to know when she'd be done, when we could pick up where we left off.

"About little space," she confirmed with a playful wink, pulling away just enough to look into my eyes. Her fingers trailed down my chest, leaving a path of warmth. "Maybe I'll even break some rules on purpose again."

My heart pounded, a drumbeat of anticipation. "Be careful what you wish for, little girl," I growled softly, swatting her gently on the ass. Her giggle was music, pure and simple.

She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. With a final wave and a smile that could outshine any neon light, she slipped out the door, leaving me in a whirlwind of flour, sugar, and feelings I couldn't quite name.

As the door swung shut behind her, I took a deep breath. The bakery smelled of fresh bread, sweet pastries, and something else—something intangible. Hope, maybe. Or redemption. I felt a surge of gratitude, a wave crashing against the shore of my soul. This was my second chance, right here in this small town, with this incredible woman.

"Morning, folks!" I greeted the new rush of customers, my voice booming, cheerful. I handed out croissants, their buttery scent filling the air. Each transaction was more than an exchange of goods; it was a connection, a moment of shared joy.

Thoughts of Marie lingered, a sweet hum in the back of my mind. But there was no rush, no urgency.

The day stretched out before me, a canvas waiting to be painted. I rolled up my sleeves, diving into the rhythm of the bakery. Knead, roll, bake, serve. Each motion was a step forward, each smile a testament to the life I was building.

And underneath it all, a quiet, steadfast certainty. This was just the beginning, the first few notes of a symphony. Marie and I, we were writing our song, one beat at a time. And I couldn't wait to hear what came next