Chapter 18 #2
Eyes burn into us, and likely into Elodie’s ass cheeks, but I haven’t been gifted with that view yet. I tuck her into my side. My smile has to be as goofy as it feels, but I don’t care. My relief leaves me as relaxed as drinking a few shots in a row.
I stroke my thumb up and down the bare skin of her side. “Our two guests here heard about your bakery. They want to visit it tomorrow.” Did Lane tell her about them? When did he have time to shoot her a text?
I don’t care. She’s here.
“That’s so amazing to hear.” Her smile has a hint of wickedness. Turning around, she reaches into her back pocket and pulls out two business cards. How’d they fit in that teeny pocket?
Again, I don’t care. The sight in front of me strikes all thought from my head. The curves of her ass cheeks top long, smooth legs. Those heels . . . Lust pumps steadily into my veins.
“These are for a free muffin or cupcake,” Elodie tells the customers. “Our special this weekend is sour cream almond poppy seed with a Foster House whiskey glaze, but I’ll have more options if that’s not your thing.”
“Thank you so much.” The girl with the near wardrobe malfunction stuffs the card into her purse. “I love your shoes.”
I fucking do too.
Elodie’s smile is serene and a touch vapid. It’s disarming and endearing. No wonder men bought her whatever she wanted. “You’re so welcome. I really hope you stop in. I’ll even get a load of Foster House whiskey–glazed apricot bread ready.”
Appreciation simmers in the other girl’s gaze. “That sounds delicious. Everyone in town has been so nice.”
“Well, you make it easy.” Elodie gives them an alluring pout. “It’s easy to see how much you enjoy the place we love. I hope the rest of your trip goes well. If you have any questions, just ask these guys—or me. I’m happy to help.”
The other women blush and nod at Elodie’s gushing compliments. I’m not a gambling man, but I would put money down that these flirty customers would buy Elodie drinks if she slid onto a stool next to them.
“If you two need to go talk, I’ll cover for you,” Lane offers, running the wiping rag through his hands.
“Thank you.” I say it with enough inflection that he knows I’m thanking him for so much more. I take Elodie’s hand and lead her out of the tasting room.
In the main distillery, by a rack of Foster House ball caps, I pull her into my arms again. “I’ve got to thank you too.”
“You’re welcome. Lane made it sound like you were going to have a breakdown.”
“I was. They were bold. What if word got to you and you didn’t trust me?”
She frowns and runs her hands down my shoulders. “I do trust you.”
“Not with everything.”
She opens her mouth. Shuts it. “There are some things that aren’t important enough to drag you into.”
“Everything about you is important.”
She feathers her hands up my arms and cradles my face again. “I promise I won’t think the worst of you.” She winces. “I don’t like people telling me they promise something and here I am doing it.”
“Would you have been upset? If they’d come in talking about how much fun they had with the guys working in the distillery, and you knew one of them had been me?”
Her white teeth dig into her ripe lower lip. “I would’ve been upset at first, but I hope I’d realize that it’s you. You flirt, but it’s your way of making everyone feel good.” She runs a fingertip down my nose. “You get a special look when you’re talking to me. It’s all mine.”
It’ll always be hers. “Just don’t throw me away.”
Understanding fills her eyes. “Cruz. You’re definitely worth keeping, and you always were. If anyone tosses you aside, they’re the problem. Not you.” She gives me another kiss.
I delve deep into her mouth with my tongue and she meets it with hers stroke for stroke. With her body in my arms and that vision of her entering the distillery like sex on a cloud in my head, I’m hard as a rock and aching so bad I might come in my pants.
“I need to get you to my office.” It’s up a flight of stairs. One wrong wobble and her ankle is toast in those shoes. I pick her up.
She laughs. “I can walk, Cruz.”
“The way you walk in those shoes is obscene, and I can’t risk fucking you right on the stairs.”
I take the steps two at a time, reaching my office faster than I ever have from the ground floor. When I get inside, I kick the door shut behind me. The only windows I have in my space face the parking lot.
She looks around. “It’s nice. Very clean.” There’s not even a notepad on my desk. A box of alcohol samples is under my desk, and the laptop is closed and in the middle. I’d probably store that somewhere else too, if I could. “It’s the size of my bathroom.”
“I didn’t want a big office.” I set her ass on the edge of my desk. “If I’m spending too much of my day in here, then it’s time to find a different career.”
She leans back. I can’t see the swells of her breasts, but her shirt teases them. I skim my fingers along the hemline. “If you wore this all the time, I’d be your biggest champion, but I’d also have a million heart attacks.”
“I’ll wear it just for you.”
“Nah, sugar. You wear this for you or not at all.” I lift one of her legs. My gut clenches harder to see her foot tucked into a fuck-me shoe. “You’re going to leave these on, and I’ll strip down the rest of you. That’ll be for me.”
“Now?”
“Lane’s covering for me.” I release her leg to kiss her. Then I draw her top over her head. Her tits bounce free and I almost choke on my tongue for the second time tonight. “Fucking hell. No bra?”
“It’s built in.” She reclines back and shimmies her shoulders. “Guess what else I’m not wearing.”
My groan rips out long and ragged. Two articles of clothing and she’s naked? “You want me dead at your feet, don’t you?”
I drag down her bottoms and she lifts her ass for me. I have to take a step back and evaluate my handiwork.
“Put your heels on the edge of the desk.” I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s thick. Guttural. Straight up caveman.
“I might gouge the surface.”
“Worth it. Now do it and spread those knees wide.”
She first lifts one leg. Then another. The tips of her sharp heels hold her feet in place. My blood is thumping at my temples and pounding against the zipper of my jeans. She’s wet and glistening for me, such a deep pink, it’s become my favorite color.
I rip open my zipper and free myself. I get a condom on in record time and toss my wallet who knows where. “There’s one thing that I want to commemorate this moment with.”
I stoop carefully to keep from strangling my erection in my fly and grab a single-serve bottle of Buttered Cob. I twist off the top and take a drink.
Her lips part as I lean down to kiss her. She opens for me, drinking in the warm whiskey, and she moans, her lips vibrating against mine.
Her mouth is wet and shiny when I pull away. I take another drink, almost finishing it off and sink to my knees. I swallow and claim her clit, swiping my alcohol-soaked tongue across her swollen nub.
“Cruz.” She rocks her hips up.
I blow across her hot flesh.
“Oh my god.” She leans back farther, shoving my laptop to the side so she doesn’t knock it off the desk.
I finish off the rest of the small bottle and cover her clit with my mouth, plying the bud with my tongue until she’s writhing.
I swallow everything down that didn’t escape to drip to the desktop and rise.
Her eyes are half-lidded when I push into her.
They roll all the way back and she drops her head back.
She surrounds me and all my worries wash away. The women in the bar. The secret she’s not telling me. How much she works. All of it vanishes as soon as I’m buried inside of her. “That’s it. Just relax and let me fuck you.”
I put one of her heels on my shoulder and pump away. She scrapes at my abs with her nails, undulating her hips with my thrusts. My climax is roaring down on me like a coal train. Her walls are gripping my cock, but I need her to topple over the edge with me.
Her clit’s wet enough, but I lick my thumb anyway and strum the swollen nub. She’s the only instrument I’ve ever played. Her hands fall away to catch herself on the desk, and she arches her back.
Fuck me. I’m never going to forget this sight. So many beautiful images of her in pure ecstasy are seared into my brain. I’m one lucky bastard.
“Cruz!” She grips me so fucking tight I can barely move. Her walls convulse, rippling over my shaft with blinding pleasure.
I pound into her and slam into my orgasm. My ass cramps as I come, punching into her one last time before I release.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Fuck, Elodie.”
Whimpers and moans leave her as we both try not to yell through the building.
Once we both finish grunting and shaking, I peel my eyes open. She’s sprawled across my desk with a dreamy expression. Her foot is hanging off my shoulder, and her other leg is dangling off the edge of the desk.
“It’s amazing I’m still standing.” And that her heels are still on.
She smiles at me. “This wasn’t part of the first tour I got.”
I smooth my hand up and down her leg. “It’ll be a part of them for you from now on.”
Elodie
I wipe the back of my wrist across my forehead. The weekend has been a flurry of baking. Now it’s Monday and my final push for the week. All my notes are spread out on the table, and I’m checking off each batch I’ve got done.
The street fair starts Friday evening and goes through late afternoon Saturday.
Clem hasn’t been able to help. The library needs her to prepare a booth and set up an area for kids to play.
The main part of the fair will be a block away from the library, but people will be roaming all over our small town.
Cruz comes through the back door, a bag in his hand from La Taqueria. “Carne asada, just for you.”
I groan. “That sounds so good. I’m starving. I’ve been preparing cookie dough and making extra apricot bread and whiskey glaze in case I sell out. What if I’m making too much?”