Epilogue #2
My eyes flutter closed. His praise still does that to me. It melts something deep inside me. Something that used to be afraid to want too loudly. Daniel knows it, and because he’s both kind and evil, he never stops.
“You like that,” he murmurs against my skin.
“Yes.”
“You like it when I remind you what you are.”
“What am I?”
His fingers slip beneath my panties, finding me already wet, and I gasp.
“Mine because you chose me,” he growls softly. “Strong because you rebuilt yourself. Sweet because you want to be, not because anyone made you soft. And so fucking perfect, I still don’t know how I got lucky enough to be standing here.”
My eyes sting. “Daniel.”
“I know.” He kisses me gently. “Too many feelings?”
“Too many clothes.”
His smile turns filthy. “I can fix that.”
He tugs my panties down my legs, dropping them somewhere on the kitchen floor. Probably another health code violation. I will care later.
Maybe.
His fingers return between my thighs, stroking slowly through my wetness, and my head tips back.
“There she is,” he murmurs. “So ready for me.”
“I have been trying to finish this cake for twenty minutes.”
“And doing so well.” His thumb circles my clit, and my hips jerk. “Very dedicated. Very professional.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“I’m praising your work ethic.”
“With your hand up my skirt.”
“I’m versatile. Multitasking is one of my many skills”
A laugh breaks out of me, then turns into a moan when he slides one finger inside me.
The bakery disappears at the edges. There’s only Daniel between my thighs, his mouth at my throat, his hand working me slowly, carefully, exactly the way he knows I like.
His free hand grips my hip, grounding me on the edge of the table.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, voice rough. “Let me hear you. I love those sounds.”
I grip his shoulders, nails digging into skin. “Daniel.”
“I’ve got you.” He adds another finger, stretching me, curling just right. “You’re so wet. So warm. Goddess, I love touching you.”
Pleasure coils tight in my belly. “You say that like you’re surprised.”
“I am,” he says, kissing my jaw. “Every time. Still can’t believe I get to have you like this.”
He presses his thumb harder, and my heart becomes irrelevant because my entire body lights up. I rock against his hand, chasing the pleasure. “Don’t stop.”
“Not a chance.” His eyes lock on mine. “Come for me, Holly. Right here. Let go for me while the whole bakery smells like sugar and you.”
The orgasm hits fast and bright. I cry out, clutching him as my body clenches around his fingers. Daniel watches me like he wants to memorize every second. Like my pleasure is his favorite thing.
The bond pulses hot and golden between us. Before I can fully catch my breath, I reach for his jeans.
He laughs, strained and breathless. “Impatient.”
“Emotionally attached dick, remember?”
“It missed you.”
“It saw me this morning.”
“It’s clingy.”
I laugh so hard I almost fall backward, but Daniel catches me, grinning, and the sweetness of that moment wraps around the heat until I can barely separate love from lust. And I don’t want to.
He shoves his jeans down just enough, and then he’s there, thick and hard between my thighs. I take him in my hand, stroking once, watching his face tighten with pleasure.
His jaw clenches. “Holly.”
“You’re very affected.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Still not the word.”
“What word would you prefer?”
“Ruined.”
I guide him closer, the head of his cock brushing my slick heat. His hands flex on my hips.
“Still with me?” he asks.
I smile. “Always.”
His expression softens so fast it hurts. Then he pushes inside me. Slow, deep, and perfect.
My breath catches as he fills me, my body stretching around him, welcoming him home. Because that is what this feels like now. Not fate dragging me toward something I did not ask for. Not the terrifying unknown of a bond that might break.
Home.
Daniel groans, forehead dropping to mine. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.”
“Better than the cinnamon roll?”
His laugh breaks into a moan when I clench around him. “Don’t ask cruel questions while I’m inside you.”
“I need to know where I stand.”
“Above all baked goods.”
“Even my apple fritters?”
His hips draw back slowly, then drive in deep enough to make my mouth fall open. “Do the apple fritters do that?”
“No.”
“Then yes.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Good answer.”
He moves then, building a slow, hard rhythm that rocks the table beneath me. One hand grips my hip, the other braces beside me near a bowl of buttercream that is absolutely in the danger zone.
“Careful,” I gasp.
“With you?”
“With the frosting.”
Daniel’s laugh turns into a growl. “You’re worried about frosting while I’m fucking you?”
“I’m also good at multitasking.”
He pulls almost all the way out, then thrusts in hard, and I cry out.
“Yes, you are,” he praises, voice rough and wicked. “My talented mate. My clever girl. Taking my cock so perfectly while still worrying about dessert.”
My body clenches hard, and his eyes flare wide. “Oh, you liked that.”
“Shut up.”
“No.” He kisses me, thrusting deeper. “You like being praised. You like knowing how good you are for me.”
I moan against his mouth because he’s right. Annoyingly, devastatingly right.
His rhythm turns harder, the table creaking beneath me, the air filling with the sound of our bodies, our breath, and the soft slap of skin on skin. It should feel ridiculous, having sex in my bakery with buttercream inches from my elbow and a half-finished baby shower cake waiting beside us.
And it does feel ridiculous, but it also feels perfect. This is us. Sugar and sin. Laughter and heat. A mate bond chosen every day, sometimes in moonlit clearings and sometimes on sanitized prep tables.
Daniel’s hand slips between us, fingers finding my clit.
My head falls back. “Daniel.”
“I know.” His mouth moves over my mark, making the bond flare. “Come with me, sweetheart. Give it to me. Let me feel you.”
My nails rake down his back, and his hips snap harder. Pleasure builds again, deeper this time, tangled in the bond and the heavy drag of him inside me.
“You’re mine,” he growls, then immediately lifts his head, eyes softening despite the strain in his face. “Ours.”
I smile through the pleasure. “Ours.”
The feel of him filling me, holding me, and loving me without ever making me smaller sends me over the edge.
My orgasm crashes through me, and Daniel follows a heartbeat later, groaning my name as he drives deep, his body shaking against mine.
Heat floods me, and the bond glows bright and full, wrapping us together until there’s no fear left in the space between our hearts.
Only forever, smelling faintly of lemon buttercream.
For a long moment, we stay tangled together on the table, breathing hard.
Daniel lifts his head and looks past me, and his mouth twitches.
“What?” I ask.
“You’ve got frosting in my hair.”
I blink before I look. There is, indeed, a smear of pale-yellow buttercream in his dark blond hair. I press my lips together.
Don’t laugh.
Don’t laugh.
I fail miserably, laughter tearing out of me.
Daniel narrows his eyes. “Careful.”
“I’m sorry.” I am not. “It’s very masculine frosting.”
“Alpha-level frosting?”
“The most dominant frosting.”
He bites my shoulder lightly, nowhere near the claim, just enough to make me squeal.
“Daniel!”
“Laugh at my frosting hair again.”
“I will. Repeatedly.”
He kisses me, smiling against my mouth, and for a second, I forget the cake, the mess, the fact that we are both half-naked in my place of business.
This is what happiness looks like. Frosting in unimaginable places, laughter at inappropriate moments, and sex in ridiculous places.
The End