Chapter 16
sixteen
Gretel refused to tell me the plan.
Even when I promised to swat her ass or tried a softer approach like reaching for her pussy, she’d only laugh as she dodged me. And worse, she told me she needed a day. Which meant I kept nibbling on my bottom lip, trying to understand that mind of hers.
Baz found us for dinner. He looked no different than normal, but I couldn’t get the image of his pained face from earlier to go away. I wanted to please him. To make him feel as good as we had. I know Gretel had touched him. Had sucked him off.
I wanted to do that too, to show him love and comfort.
We went to bed, the three of us, like normal. He never said a word about it. He never asked for anything. I kissed his cheek as he pulled the covers up, and I caught the way his head turned toward me. Inspected me. Perhaps he was surprised I showed such affection?
All I got in return was a flash of a bright smile. I didn’t know if it was my sadness that reflected in his face, though. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was just overthinking things.
As you can imagine, this went on and on. My head tumbled around with thoughts as I debated if I was failing Baz because, as Gretel rightly called me out, I’d never touched a man before.
Gretel was still horrible in the kitchen. I normally shooed her out, but the next day she lined ingredients along the counter. Several hours later, Baz found us.
“What’s this?” He shot me a mischievous glance, knowing I didn’t like her in my kitchen.
Gretel giggled, wiping her palms on her dress. Flour stuck to her cheek. “Wystle let me bake you something special.”
“Fairy?” Baz asked.
I threw a towel onto the counter. “Only because she begged. I personally think too much sugar isn’t good for you.”
Like always, my dour response only made the pair laugh. “It’s sticky buns,” Gretel said. “It’s hardly the worst thing.”
Gretel held one up, tempting him. Not that he needed much persuasion.
“You’re a grown man,” I reminded Baz, who licked his lips.
He straightened his spine. “Are you telling me I wouldn’t be dignified if I ate a sticky bun?”
As if I’d challenged him, he swiped the treat from Gretel and tore into the bun. He made a mess of it, icing sticking to his lips. He kissed Gretel’s cheek, her shoulders jumping as she giggled.
He stepped toward me and I dodged, but he caught my arm. Pulling me to him, he kissed my cheek over and over again, tickling my skin.
“Is this not dignified enough?” he asked, and for a second, I just stood in his arms, holding onto him. He swayed slightly, but I looked up, realizing it wasn’t his usual dancing.
He stumbled back, shooting a look at Gretel, who yet again giggled. “F-fairy?” he asked, dropping to a knee.
I tried to grab him before his head crashed to the ground. He slumped to the floor, out cold.
“Gretel!” I whispered furiously. “What did you do?”
She shrugged, an impish grin on her lips. “I told you I had a plan.”
“You drugged him!”
She bent down, lovingly smoothing a hand over his brow. “It’s okay.”
“It’s really not!” And this would also be the last time she’d ever be allowed to touch our food.
“I told you I had a plan.” Gretel pressed a kiss to Baz’s forehead, fawning over the unconscious man. “And he told me he likes games and drugging isn’t off limits.”
“Y-you talked about this?” Nerves skittered across my skin like they always did when the world tilted funny. Gretel and Baz knew what they were doing, and this felt like another reminder of how new I was to all of this.
But Gretel didn’t have that awful, silly smile on her face like she normally did. Something softer appeared, and she leaned forward, kissing me. Slow and sensual, and while we couldn’t forget Baz right there on the ground next to us, this moment was for us.
“You trust me?” Gretel whispered against my lips. I nodded. An excited grin took over her face, and she nearly vibrated. “Good, then it’s onto the next step of the plan.”
The next step of the plan involved dragging Baz into the pantry. I thought Gretel was absurd for multiple reasons, but once we started pulling Baz, I understood. There was no way the two of us were carrying the dead weight of a six-foot-tall man, made completely of muscle, up the stairs.
And it turned out Gretel had put some care into the plan.
The pantry was closest to the scene of the crime, and she had rearranged the room.
Our stockpile of food almost disappeared out of sight, and she’d laid out a spread of blankets and pillows.
I didn’t even know where she’d found the stuff.
They were all made of orange and red material, brightening what should’ve been a drab and dark pantry.
She tried to hand me a knife.
I couldn’t even hide the alarm from my voice. “What’s this for?”
“We have to cut his clothes off.”
Baz, propped up on pillows, slumbered. Even asleep, his body cut the figure of a god. His chiseled jawline and dark hair. He appeared relaxed, though, I hated the idea that we’d just done him harm.
“We are not cutting his clothes!” I hissed.
Gretel frowned and pulled out some rope from one of the shelves. I started to wonder just how long she’d sat on this plan.
“The whole point is for him to not be in clothes!” she reasoned, picking up his arm and pulling it back. I looked on in horror as it slowly dawned on me that she meant to tie him up.
“We are not cutting his clothes,” I said again. I might be attached to this harebrained scheme, but had this girl not learned a thing or two in her lifetime. “Do you know the cost of fabric these days?”
Baz Coldwell didn’t go around wearing poor man’s clothes. All his suits and shirts were tailored, the material thick and luxurious. He never had a thread out of place, and that’s coming from a man who otherwise didn’t care about rolling up his sleeves and trying to help me in the kitchen.
And of course, I thought of all of this, but in reality, something protective in me came out. I knew deep down we were already pushing Baz. He might have told Gretel he was comfortable with this type of play, but I could guarantee the girl hadn’t had a conversation regarding ripped clothing.
I brought her back to the edge, the pair of us pulling and pushing in the right way. She tried to get me out of my comfort zone, and I kept her from a painful punishment—Baz’s disappointment.
She huffed. “Fine. Undress him and then we’ll tie him up.”
Obviously, I knew Baz’s clothes were going to come off. We’d just fought about tearing his clothes off. But Gretel never gave the orders, and it wasn’t so much that she used a stern or demanding voice. Just a simple, please do that, and then we’ll move on to the next step.
But I swallowed, my fingers hovering over his shirt button.
She wanted me to undress him.
The whole point of her plan was so I could become better acquainted with him.
Gretel ran her hand over my back and up my shoulder, squeezing it.
I liked it when she didn’t feel the need to giggle, but she did smile at me.
A soft, comforting expression. I don’t want to call it motherly, but in a way, that’s what it was.
In that moment, she guided me, and I had to set aside what I thought my role in our relationship was and let go.
I undid the buttons of his shirt, now wrinkled and worse for wear thanks to us dragging him. Gretel helped me lift his body when needed, but the hard parts I did on my own. Not that they were truly hard. Already something filled my belly. Risk and desire.
I undid his trousers, the pants hanging open for a few minutes before I tugged them down as best I could. Then my fingers slipped into the waistband of his underpants, and I pulled him free.
He was soft.
Gretel never said anything, letting me take my time to stare. When I started to move again, she helped me move his legs, shucking the trousers off. She even folded the clothes, moving them out of sight.
She handed me rope. I positioned one arm, up and over his head, and she did the other. There was a small hook along the wall that we tied him to. Gretel taught me how to tie the knots.
And then we sat back.
Baz still slept, but the effect was completely different now. Naked and his hands tied.
The heat in my belly continued to pool, and I didn’t want to think about it. To admit that another secret had just been unlocked. How I found this to be so appetizing when it should’ve been wrong.
Gretel saw into my mind. Without any words, she ran a hand down my cheek, turning my face to hers. Slowly and softly, she kissed me again.
I leaned into her, needing her soft curves and her reassurances. She shimmied out of her dress.
“Panties off,” I demanded, so she took those off too.
We only kissed, though, Gretel’s hips began to rock in the way that told me what she needed.
We were so wrapped up in each other that it took us a moment to realize that there was a groan that didn’t belong to us. And unusual, Gretel noticed first.
She tore her lips away, her arms clinging to me. She was all but in my lap by that point, her arousal smearing the fabric of my black dress.
Baz’s head moved side to side.
“Come on,” Gretel instructed, unable to bite her smile back.
Baz opened his eyes to find us seated by his feet. Blinking, it took several moments for him to even understand what was going on. I’m certain he thought it was a fucked up dream.
Gretel naked and giggling. The completely rearranged pantry.
He tugged at his binds and then some sort of realization dawned. We had trapped him and taken his clothes.
Letting out a deep breath, and in a groggy voice, he said, “Little ducks.”
That only made Gretel titter more.
Baz tugged on his bindings harder, his head moving as he put the pieces in place.
Gretel whispered into my ear, “It’s okay.”
The quiet aside made Baz lift himself, his sapphire eyes pinning me down. He’d come out of his haze, and I met the molten fire in his eyes, brimming with something I couldn’t place.