Best of Penny Wylder: Boss Romance Page 6

  Slipping both hands under her ass, I scoop her off the floor. Misty wraps her legs around my hips, and I carry her to the bed. Her mouth moves over mine, and her tongue dances in circles.

  She moans into my mouth, rocking her hips, and rubbing her pussy against my waist. I feel feral. All I want is this woman, everything else could vanish, and I'd be fine as long as I had her.

  Dropping her down on the bed, her moan is replaced by the sound of springs. She leans back on her elbows, her smile sultry, her eyes smoldering, the blue now as dark as the bottom of the ocean.

  God damn this girl drives me fucking wild.

  Stripping down to my boxers, I leave my clothes in a puddle on the floor, and crawl till I'm hovering over her. Placing one arm on either side of her head, I spread her legs with my knees and settle between her thighs.

  Slipping a hand down between her tits, Misty's mouth opens slightly, chest lifting as her back arches off the bed. She lets out a rush of air that's soft, barely audible, but I can hear her. Her silent gasp is all I need. I don't need her voice; words aren't necessary when she's wearing her desire like a sensual cloak.

  She wants my cock. She needs my cock. And if she tries to resist, her body will overthrow her mind.

  My hand keeps moving down her stomach, and her muscles quake as I slip below her bellybutton and palm her pussy.

  “Mm,” she moans, clutching the blanket at her sides. Bending her legs, her knees grip me around the hips, and she grinds her pussy up into my hand.

  Smiling down at her, I kiss the side of her neck, and whisper in her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks, her eyes finding mine, partially dazed and curious.

  Her entire body is wriggling, moving against the blanket like it's water. Her ass is shifting side to side, her hips lift up, pussy desperate to be touched. Her feet keep slipping back and forth, chest expanding with sharp breaths.

  “Can't you feel it? Your body is giving you the answer. I just want to hear you say it. I want to hear it for myself.”

  Misty licks her lips, reaching up with one hand to softly brush back the hair from my face. “You want me to tell you to fuck me.”

  “Wrong,” I say, my voice low, thick, demanding the right answer. Taking her hand, I pull it away from my face, and kiss her knuckles. Tipping my head, I say it again. “Tell me what you want.”

  Her eyes flick between mine, and I see the recognition in her face. “I want you,” she says, her lips softening as she bats her lashes. “I want you, Nick.”

  “That's better, that's the answer I was looking for.”

  Dipping my fingertips into the edge of her shorts, she lifts her hips, and I shimmy them down her legs. Peeling her shirt over her head, she drops it the floor.

  She looks like a fucking goddess—my goddess.

  Her skin is warm to the touch as I run my hand down her ribs. Reaching her thigh, I glide my fingertips across her lower belly, and slip a finger down through her pussy lips. She's soaking wet.

  Circling her clit, she opens her legs wide, and rolls her hips. She's ready for me. I can see it as her body moves like a wave, rolling, rocking, shaking with anticipation. Pulling my cock free, I stroke it from tip to base.

  Misty nibbles her bottom lip as she watches me. I love the way she's watching me, the way her eyes can't stop staring at my dick, and her pussy gets wetter and wetter as I finger her and stroke my cock.

  Dipping my finger in her entrance, I bring my finger to my mouth and suck her arousal off. She's tastes incredible.

  Bending to the floor, I grab a condom from my wallet, and slip it over my cock. I can't wait any longer, I need her before I fucking explode.

  I press inside her slowly, and her pussy clenches around my shaft. Stilling above her, I look down at her. Her eyes are on me, and she drives her hands into my hair as I pull back and thrust back in.

  This feels different than the other night. It isn't wild and lawless. It's sensual, tender, fueled by more than just lust. This is deeper. I can feel her in my chest, in the air I breathe, in my veins as my muscles tense, and in her pussy as she meets my pace.

  Her tits rub against my chest, nipples firming as I fuck her with more power. I throw my hips forward, slamming deep inside her. I pull out to the ridge of my tip, and her pussy squeezes around me.

  Slamming my cock back inside her, I groan loud as my balls tighten and I come hard. My cock pulses, filling the condom. Misty's body stills, and goosebumps jump down her skin.

  Everything right now feels so much more intense. My heart is racing, my pulse is going crazy, and my body is on fire.

  Our eyes lock, and in that moment everything changes.

  I see her. I feel her.

  And we both feel us.

  7

  Nick

  “We're all set,” I say, slapping the oven in the kitchen.

  Lewis throws up both hands and claps them happily next to his face. “Sweet!” He dances on the tips of his toes and shimmies his hips. “It's time to bake some muffins.” His voice is full of excitement. “Things are finally looking up.”

  “Yeah, and it only took us a week to get this shit up and running. Luckily it's before the grand opening.”

  The bell jingles over the front door, and I here Misty talking to someone. Peeking my head through the kitchen door, there's a woman and a small boy at the front counter.

  Misty is showing them one of the signature cake books, and the little boy is excitedly nodding along.

  Grabbing a towel, I push my shoulder against the door and head out to see what's going on. “Hey there,” I say, giving a friendly smile.

  The woman looks up and smiles back. Misty takes a step back, hooking her arm in mine and yanking me in. “This is one of the owners. His name is Nick.”

  “Hello,” the woman says, smiling again. “I was just telling Misty here that my son was so excited to see a new bakery in town. His birthday is coming up and I figured we'd pop in and see what options you have for cakes. I didn't realize you weren't open yet.”

  Misty waves a hand and shakes her head. “We aren't technically, but a specialty cake is a little bit different.”

  “Is it?” I ask, turning my attention to her.

  Her eyes meet mine, and she holds my stare. “It is. We have a baker, we have all the ingredients, and word of mouth is always the best source of advertising.” She arches her brows high, inciting me to listen to her.

  The boy is flipping through the book, and excitedly reaches up to tug on his mother's jacket. “Mommy, Mommy, look at this one! Can I get it, can I get this one?” His finger stabs the page over and over.

  “How much for a cake like this?” the woman asks.

  Misty pulls out the price list and scrolls through till she finds the cake. “Depending on how many tiers, about one hundred and fifty.”

  “Oh honey, no, we can't afford that one.” She smiles, her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Is there anything a little cheaper?”

  “I'm sorry, our custom cakes—” I start to say, but Misty cuts me off.

  “Need some price adjustments.” She gives me an elbow and drops down to look the little boy in the eyes. “What's your favorite color?”

  “Blue,” he says.

  “How would you like it if I make you a super special blue cake? Do you like the ocean?”

  He nods yes, but his mother interrupts. “I'm sorry, I just don't think we can afford a cake here,” she says apologetically.

  Misty stands up, taking the book from the boy and setting it on the counter. “No, no, I don't want you to worry about that. This is on me.”

  I look at her, she looks at me, my eyes questioning everything she's saying.

  “Are you sure?” the woman asks, reaching into her purse and taking out her wallet. “Let me give you something, at least.”

  “No, I mean it, I want to do this. Come back Friday, I'll have something awesome for the birthday boy here.”

  Misty takes
down the boy’s name and age, his mother's number and a few details about some of his favorite things. The woman thanks her repeatedly, taking her son by the hand and leading him out of the store.

  “What just happened?” I ask.

  “That is what I call a good deed, and at the same time we're going to get good word of mouth.”

  Lewis comes out of the kitchen, phone to his ear. “I'm out you two. I'm going to pick up the menus at the post office and call it a night.”

  “Wait,” I say, holding out my hand. “Can you bake? Misty just donated a cake to a little boy.”

  “Oh, I don't do cakes. I'm the cookie and pastry guy; muffins, scones, all those things. Cakes were Sheila's job, but she quit. We have a few applicants coming for interviews, though. Fingers crossed,” he says, walking backwards out the door.

  The door closes slowly, bell jingling as I watch him pass the window and disappear. “Well, that sucks. What are we going to do now?”

  The sounds of doors and clanking pans ring in my ear. Looking to my side, Misty is gone, and I'm alone in the front. I didn't even hear her leave.

  Pushing the kitchen door lightly, I poke my head inside. She's already put a few pans on the steel table and is putting together the giant mixer.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as I lean against the door frame and cross my arms over my chest.

  “I'm making a cake, what does it look like?” She glances up at me briefly and gives me a snarky smile.

  I love that smile. I love all her smiles.

  Walking to the table, I lean down on the top, resting on my forearms. “You bake?”

  She pops the metal whisk into the slot, and pulls her hair back into her signature, high, messy bun. “I've dabbled.”

  “Dabbled enough to create the cake of that boy’s dreams?”

  “Shut up and watch,” she says with a giggle. “How do you think I found marketing?”

  “I figured your high school counselor or something.”

  “Not even close.” Misty starts to pull out ingredients from the pantry, and lines them up next to the mixer. Flour, vanilla, salt, eggs, sugar, baking powder. She's tapping each one and speaking in a whisper to herself.

  “Can you take out the piping bags and couplers for me?”

  “The what?” Cocking a single brow, her head snaps up to stare at me.

  “You do bake, right?” she asks.

  “Um, nope.”

  “If you don't bake, then why the hell did you buy a bakery?”

  “I know a good thing when I see it.” Thinning my lips, she glances at me and I wink.

  “You're bad, you know that?”

  “I do, and I won't apologize for it either,” I say, walking to her side, and running my finger up her arm.

  Misty swats my hand away and laughs. “Not now, I'm baking.”

  Taking a step back, I grab one of the measuring cups and hold it up. “Then give me something to do. Because if you don't, I'm just going to drive you crazy. My hands need to be doing something, and all they want to do is touch you.”

  “Fine, I need you to pour two cups of flour into the mixer.”

  “Two cups, got it.” Driving the cup into the flour, I pull out an overflowing scoop.

  “Not like that,” she says, taking a quick step to my side. “Level it before you pour it in.” Taking a knife, she glides it across the top of the flour so it's flush with the lip. “Now pour it in, but go slow, you don't want clumps.”

  We spend the next half hour, mixing three batches of vanilla cake mix, and she dyes two of them different shades of blue. Misty greases the pans she took out with coconut oil. The way her hands slip over the curves, up the walls and across the bottom. . . I don't know, there's something about it that makes me so fucking hard.

  Her hand moves fluidly, massaging the oil into the metal. Her fingers are wet, slippery, and my cock thickens the longer she rubs the pan.

  “You know, if you keep stroking the pan like that, I might just need you to stroke me next.”

  Misty looks up, veering her stare as she pours the batter into the pans. She doesn't say a word, simply turning to the oven and putting the cakes inside. Spinning around to face me, she grabs the coconut oil off the table.

  “You know I heard coconut oil is actually great as a lubricant.” Taking a spoonful out, she plops it in her hand, and starts to rub it against her palm with her thumb. Her eyes hood, lashes fanning her lids like canopies as her lips pull up to the side.

  My entire body shutters as she reaches my side, her thumb swirling in circles through the liquid pool in her palm.

  “Is that right?” I ask.

  Her grin widens as she licks her lips. “So I heard.” Using her free hand, she undoes my button and zipper, and reaches into my pants. Wrapping my cock, she pulls it free. “Oh, you're hard already.”

  “You turn me on.” My eyes close as she holds my cock in her hand.

  “Good, I like turning you on.” Smearing the warm oil on my dick, she begins to stroke up and down. The oil is silky smooth, and feels so fucking good as she rubs it all over my cock.

  Her hand begins to tighten, gripping firmly as she moves up and down; slow, precise, and so very perfect. Closing my eyes, my head falls back as she works my length. My heart picks up, my pulse kicking as she continues with tightly coiled fingers around my cock.

  I can feel the orgasm building, but I don't want to come all over her hand. I want to come inside her, I want to feel her wet pussy, and watch her body shake as she comes all over my cock.

  Grabbing her hand, I hold her still. “Easy, I don't want this to end just yet,” I say.

  Pinching her chin with my other hand, I tilt her head up and look into her eyes. Misty inhales a deep breath, her chest expands rapidly, and she tugs her bottom lip into her mouth.

  Pulling her face to mine, I kiss her.

  Her mouth opens easily, accepting everything I have to give. Our tongues lick and swirl, moving around each other as I move Misty where I want her.

  Walking forward, I wrap an arm around her hip, and spin so her she's facing the table. Pushing her shoulders down, she splays open palms on the steel. I can see the heat off her body as she leaves palm prints.

  The metal steams as her fingers arch and the pads of her fingers hold her in place. Exhaling a heavy breath, she moans softly. “Mm.”

  “You like when I take control?” I ask, and she nods, unable to speak.

  My hands work anxiously to tear her pants down. My cock hurts, it needs her, it needs to be inside her. Running the tip of my cock up the center of her pussy, I rub the coconut oil from my dick around her entrance.

  She presses up on the tip of her toes and pushes her ass back. “Fuck me, Nick,” she says as she looks back at me over her shoulder.

  There's no hesitation in her voice, she knows exactly what she wants, and she accepts it easily. Me.

  She nibbles her bottom lip lightly, sucking her cheek into her mouth. Her back arches and she lifts her ass higher. My hand pushes up her shirt, exposing the smooth dips and defined muscles of her back.

  Tracing a single finger up her spine, I slip my hand into her hair and wrap it around my fist. Jerking her head back, I pull her upright, and press my mouth to her ear. “You want me to fuck you,” I say, licking the shell of her ear.

  She nods gently and lets out an audible gasp I bite her shoulder. “Yes, I want you to fuck me.”

  Slamming my dick inside her, she groans loudly. It comes from deep in her chest, hard and thick, but full of satisfaction. I'm inside her now, it's exactly what her body is demanding.

  My hand slips back down her back, following her spine, until I reach her ass. Pulling my cock back, I grab her ass, and thrust back in. A delicate noise escapes her as she bites down on her bottom lip and her eyes snap shut.

  Misty throws her ass back as I pull out, her body refusing to let me go. I love watching her pussy devour me, the way her nipples turn stiff, and her skin flushes pink.

 
Shifting my hips forward, I meet her ass as she pushes back, and it sends my dick in deeper. I'm buried to my base, my fingers coiling in her hair as I pull her head back harder.

  Grunting, I lean forward, slipping my hand under her belly and holding her up. Her hands are open on the table, arms locked straight as she digs her feet into the ground to stay in place.

  “Fuck,” I growl, running the sharp edges of my teeth across the side of her neck as I pump in and out of her body.

  My hips move faster, harder, and with full promise of making her come. Her thighs clamp together as the tips of her fingers scrape the table and she falls forward. Misty's mouth forms the perfect O as she trembles from head toe.

  I can feel her body shake, it moves from her skin to my touch instantly, making my balls firm. With one final thrust, chills explode outward, moving down my legs and up my chest as I come hard. My dick twitches, throbbing as it pumps hot cum deep into her heat. Jerking over and over, my cum starts to spill from her entrance, seeping down the back of her legs.

  Pulling out, I grab a hand towel off the table and wipe my cock off. Misty grabs another towel and starts to wipe herself. She's smiling at me, her grin sexy and dirty.

  “You really are bad, you know that?”

  “I never said I wasn't.” Fixing my clothes, I chuckle.

  “What?” she asks. “What's so funny?”

  “The side of your face is covered in flour.”

  “Is it?” Misty glances at the table, and there's a clear spot of where her face was. Giggling, she takes a paper towel and wipes the flour off her cheek. “You're also messy.”

  The timer dings, grabbing both our attention. “Perfect timing,” I say as I nod at the ovens.

  Misty puts on two oven mitts and grins. She pulls the cakes out of the oven one at a time and sets them on the table. Slipping the mitts off, she sets her hands on her hips.

  “Perfect,” she says excitedly, doing a little dance. She bobbles on the balls of her feet, waving her arms at her sides. “The ovens are perfect!”

  Smiling, I walk up behind her and wrap her in hug. Nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck, I flutter kisses up her neck. “It's really sexy watching you bake. I like it, you should bake all the time.”