Chapter Nineteen
Leah jerked awake. The strange surroundings confused her for a moment until her brain woke up enough to remember that she was in Hamilton’s loft. She grinned at the thought of the previous evening. Every sexy daydream about him had paled in contrast to the reality of Hamilton and his magnificent penis.
He was sleeping next to her, not aggressively cuddling her for once. His breathing was heavy and deep, his face more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. Moving carefully so as not to wake him, she reached for the nightstand and checked the time on her cell. It was barely two. She made a face, knowing that she was too wound up to sleep.
Sliding out of bed, she padded silently down the stairs. The city lights illuminated the loft, and she grinned at the sight of their clothes scattered around. It looked like a closet exploded, and she loved that Hamilton—her adorably uptight Hamilton—had just left this untidy mess and stumbled upstairs to fall into bed with her. They hadn’t even showered after rolling around on the floor, and Hamilton had seemed unconcerned that they were sticky with sweat when he’d wrapped her in his arms and fallen into a heavy sleep.
She snagged his dress shirt from off the floor and pulled it on, fastening a few buttons to keep it closed over her breasts. Not even bothering to search for her panties, she stayed bare, liking the touch of cool air on her damp, swollen pussy.
Thinking about Hamilton, she smiled, moving aimlessly through the living area. She was not surprised when she ended up in the kitchen. She needed to bake. The urge was pushing at her, telling her that she’d be twitchy until she started mixing some flour and sugar and butter and eggs. Frowning at his refrigerator door, she realized that she couldn’t make anything here. She could almost guarantee that the man didn’t have even half the ingredients she needed.
She glanced up at the loft. Even if he had the most well-stocked pantry in the universe, it wouldn’t be right to wake him by banging around in his kitchen. He’d admitted that he had sleep issues, so the heavy slumber she’d left him in was precious to him.
There was only one solution, and it was freaking her out.
She was tempted to sneak back up the spiral stairs, cuddle against Hamilton, and forget that she’d even thought about baking, but she knew that would be impossible. She’d just lie there, growing more and more agitated, until she gave in, got up and made something sweet.
Stiffening her shoulders, she crept over to the entry, grabbed her bag and slipped out the door. It wasn’t until she was halfway down the stairs that she realized she was in Hamilton’s shirt and nothing else—no shoes or pants or even underwear. She didn’t dare return to the loft, though. If she did, she’d never leave, and her bakery business would wither and die.
She couldn’t let that happen. It would mean that her grandma’s small inheritance, all the hours, all the early mornings, all the burns and cuts and bruises—they would be wasted if she let the bakery fail. Stupid Jude wasn’t going to ruin her favorite non-human thing in the world, not if she could help it. She’d had days to wallow in her fear and anger. It was time to take her bakery back.
Allowing her renewed anger and determination to push her, she sailed down the remainder of the stairs and unlocked the back kitchen door. As soon as it swung open, she questioned her decision, fear creeping back in. Shaking off her doubts, she forced herself to step into the bakery, shutting and locking the door behind her.
Instead of feeling safer with the door secured, she felt more afraid now that there were two thick doors between her and Hamilton. Shoving away her anxiety, she reached for the light switch but hesitated before turning them on.
She didn’t want to give up her ability to see outside. There was enough ambient light filling the bakery that she wouldn’t run into anything, and she’d memorized most of her recipes, so she let her hand drop away from the switch.
It was almost painfully hard to step away from the door, but she forced her feet to move. It helped that the lighting was dim and she was barefoot, the tiles unfamiliar and cool under her soles. Instead of being the place where Jude assaulted her, it was a new place, somewhere mysterious and exciting and filled with possibilities. Her heart rate sped up, but it was from exhilaration, rather than leftover fear. This was going to be an adventure, baking almost naked in the near dark.
She moved tentatively across the floor, turning on the oven and collecting everything she would need for a simple white cake. As she started to weigh out her ingredients, her movements loosened, became more natural. She quit glancing over at the back door, quit remembering how the gun had felt pressed against her temple, and just sank into the process, weighing and stirring and pouring the batter into the cake pans.
As the layers baked, she took her time cleaning up and making frosting, not wanting there to be a lull. That would offer too much time to dwell on what had happened in this very room, and she wasn’t going to slip back into that, not after she’d managed to push it away long enough to mix a cake in the dark.
The timer beeped, making her jump and spill some powdered sugar. All three layers were the necessary temperature, so she slipped them in the freezer to cool. It was cheating, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to sell this cake that she’d made barefoot and hairnet-less anyway. If she wanted to be sloppy about it, she could.
Once the layers were cool and stacked and had the base coat of frosting, she started decorating it, squeezing plump cherries and dark stems from the piping bags onto the top and sides of the cake. It was almost done by the time her phone buzzed with a text from Hamilton.
Coming in the back door.
She heard the click of a key in the lock and was thankful that he’d warned her. If he hadn’t, she would’ve thought all kinds of nightmarish things by the time he’d gotten the door open. Since he’d given her a heads-up, she just glanced over at him and smiled. “Hi.”
Even in the dim light, she could tell he’d been sleeping just a few minutes earlier. His lids were heavy, and his hair mashed down on one side. All he wore was a pair of athletic pants. “What are you doing?” His voice was rough from sleep and irritation, but Leah found him too adorable in his sleep-rumpled state to get upset about the latter.
“I’m baking you a cake.” She piped another round, fake cherry out of bright red frosting. “Well, icing you a cake. The baking part’s done.”
“In the dark? Without shoes? Or pants?”
“Yep.” Despite the lack of artificial light, the cake was turning out beautifully. “I don’t have panties on, either.”
In less than two seconds, he was right behind her, pushing up the tails of her shirt—well, his shirt, technically—and squeezing her ass with both hands. “Why...?” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat. When he spoke again, he still sounded hoarse. “Why are you making me a cake in the dark wearing just my shirt?”
“I needed to.” She knew she’d just make a mess of the cake if she tried to continue with his hands on her bare ass, so she withdrew the piping bag and tip and leaned into his touch. Tipping her head back so she could see him, she held up the frosting. “Open your mouth.”
He ignored the command, continuing to frown down at her. “Why didn’t you wake me up? I would’ve come down here with you.”
“You were sleeping.” Since he wouldn’t cooperate, she squeezed a tiny rosette of frosting onto his lower lip. When he used his teeth to scrape it into his mouth, she grinned. She had him now. “And your cake wouldn’t have been a surprise if you’d helped make it.”
“What’s the cake for?” The question was absent as his fingers worked on her ass and his gaze locked on her mouth.
She gestured at it. “I put frosting cherries on it. Your cherry cake.” He’d missed a small swipe of frosting on his lip, so she stood on her tiptoes, tugging his head down until she was close enough to lick it off. “Since we popped your cherry last night.”
He stiffened for a second in surprise and then laughed, a happy sound that echoed through the dark kitchen. Leah smiled. Despite what Jude had done and tried to do, this bakery would never be his, not when Hamilton’s rare, beautiful laugh filled the space, clearing out all the shadows.
With a pretend growl, he pulled back a hand and smacked her ass sharply enough to make her yelp. Heat spread through her, and she pushed back into him. “We’ll have to share the cake.” His voice was dark with delicious promise as he latched his hands around her waist and lifted her feet off the floor. He carried her over to the dish sink with an effortless ease that stoked the fiery need building in her. Evidence of her desire dampened her pussy and wet her bare inner thighs.
“Why are we sharing?” A delighted shiver rippled through her. “You didn’t pop my cherry last night.”
Instead of answering, he reached around her and undid the few buttons she’d fastened. Sliding his hands down her arms, he pushed her sleeves down before gently extracting the piping bag filled with frosting that she still clutched. The shirt fluttered to the floor as he urged her to bend at the waist. She felt so exposed, standing naked in her bakery kitchen, but it just added to her excitement. Laying the bag on her flat back, he lifted her hands to the edge of the large, square sink. She gripped tightly, knowing that she’d need to hold on to ride out whatever mind-blowing plan Hamilton was concocting.
He leaned over her, not quite touching. His heat covered her from neck to heels, and she had to stop herself from squirming closer to him. His hands trailed lightly from her shoulders, across her back and down to her ass cheeks. When he gripped them tightly, she moaned, the sudden change from his barely there touch to direct, hard contact overwhelming her with desire.
“What about here?” he asked, pushing her cheeks apart and brushing her asshole with his thumb. “Has this cherry been popped yet?”
Her whole body clenched in apprehension and excitement. “Not yet.” Her voice sounded strangled. When he made an ambiguous sound and ran his hands up her back again, she tightened her ass again. Although she was uncertain about anal sex, she missed his fingers. Her ass felt too bare and cold without his hands on them. “Are you sure you want to share your cake?”
“It’d be worth it.” He picked up the piping bag and kissed the spot on her spine where it had been. “But it’s up to you.”
“What about lube?” She couldn’t believe she was considering it, but she also knew this was Hamilton. She wanted to do everything with him. Plus, she’d love some of that cake.
Something cool touched her spine, right at the base of her neck. It took her a moment and another few dabs to realize that it was frosting. He was using the piping bag to decorate her. “We can improvise,” he said, squeezing a curlicue onto her shoulder blade.
Improvise? Hamilton? She was surprised he even knew about the concept, much less suggested it. She was distracted as he drew a line of frosting down her spine. She shivered, even though her body was radiating heat. Her entire back felt ultra-sensitive as she waited for the next dab, not knowing where he’d place it.
She jerked as frosting touched her tailbone, sending a sizzle of awareness through her. Being decorated like one of Hamilton’s gorgeous cookies was surprisingly thrilling, and her pussy was soaked. Shifting, she rubbed her thighs together, feeling the moisture spread slickly over her skin.
“Be still.” There was a smack, and she yelped in surprise as her right butt cheek stung from the smack of his palm. The minor pain quickly turned to heat, adding to her hunger. It was almost impossible to stay still now, especially because she wouldn’t mind if he spanked her again. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the sink, and she moaned, needing to arch her back and thrust her desperately empty pussy toward him. She shuddered and then went still, waiting for his punishment.
Instead of his hand smacking against her ass, though, she felt his hot tongue stroke her shoulder blade as he lapped at the frosting. She cried out, a high-pitched, wordless sound as his tongue slid the length of her spine, leaving her nerves overexposed and raw. He licked at the frosting on her shoulder blade, and then lightly scored her skin with his teeth, making her shiver and flinch before pressing into his touch.
Working his way down her back, he licked and nipped until she was squirming. She’d given up any attempt at staying still, since she knew it was hopeless. He slid his tongue across her tailbone, and it felt so good that it was almost painful. Then, he lowered his mouth and sucked. Leah almost levitated.
“Ham, please...” She was begging, but it didn’t bother her. If it would get Ham inside her, then she would do pretty much anything at the moment. She was desperate. “Fuck me. Please.”
His breathing ragged enough to hear, he gripped her ass cheek with one hand. She only had a fraction of a second to wonder where his other hand was before something cold and tapered slid into her ass. It was the frosting tip.
Her entire body went still with anticipation. When he’d mentioned it before he’d started licking frosting off of her, she hadn’t really taken him seriously. Now, with him squeezing frosting all around and inside her ass, she knew he meant it. If she agreed, he was going to pop her backdoor cherry.
Even as realization struck her, bringing equal parts apprehension and dark excitement, he tossed the frosting bag into the garbage and slid a thick finger into her frosting-slick hole. It wasn’t the same as something being in her pussy, but there was still a hungry stretching ache that was making her rock back, impaling herself even more on his finger.
He gave a surprised grunt at her movement before thrusting his finger all the way in, meeting her upward thrust. She was suddenly thankful for the generous amount of butter she added to her buttercream frosting, as it slicked the way, easing his penetration.
When he withdrew, she groaned in complaint, not ready to be empty yet. Immediately, he worked two fingers in and back out, stretching and slicking her opening. His other hand left her ass and found her clit, rubbing against it lightly and carefully—too lightly and carefully. Her thrusts intended to take his fingers deeper also bumped her clit against him.
He took the hint and rubbed her a little more roughly, pinching and flicking and building up her pleasure until she was moaning, her hips slamming back, taking his fingers to the hilt. With a low growl, he pulled his hand free, replacing it with something that felt much bigger than his fingers. Without giving her a chance to get nervous and tense up, he worked the head in. The frosting and the stretching his fingers had done opened her up enough that her body yielded to the tip of his cock, allowing it inside her body.
“Jesus, LeeLee,” he groaned, driving his erection in another agonizingly slow inch. “You’re so tight around me, so tight and so hot.”
It felt huge and alien in her ass, but contrarily, she didn’t want him to take it out. There was no dividing line between the pleasure and the pain. Instead, they blended together, creating the most intense sensation Leah had ever felt.
His fingers played with her clit, just roughly enough for her liking, and he started to push more deeply into her. She shivered and panted, overwhelmed by the invasion. Halfway in, he stopped, and she felt the stroke of his tongue on her back again. She wondered if there was some stray frosting he’d missed the first time and gave a tiny huff of a laugh at the idea that he was thoroughly cleaning her up.
Her spurt of amusement relaxed her a little, and Hamilton must have felt the easing of her muscles, because he drove his cock the rest of the way inside her. His body was plastered against her back, his groin flattened against her ass, as her body fought to accept the enormous intruder.
“Okay?” he asked, a ragged edge to his voice.
“Yes?” She wiggled a little, testing how he felt lodged so deeply inside her, and heard his breath catch. It was still intense and overwhelming, but the ache was easing as her body stretched to accommodate him. “It’s better.” When he still didn’t move, she gave his cock a tentative squeeze. “It’s good.”
“Sure?” The word came out as a groan.
Starting to smile, she gripped him again, loving the hoarse shout of pleasure she drew out of him. “Yes. I’m positive.”
Finally, he moved, slowly withdrawing, and it was Leah’s turn to moan. She hadn’t realized how many nerve endings she had in her ass, and it felt like Ham’s cock was firing up every single one of them. As he pushed back in, he slid two fingers into her pussy, and her muscles tightened. She felt so full.
“LeeLee...” His rhythm picked up, and she braced her arms against the sink as she thrust her hips back toward him, taking him deeper with each plunge of his cock and fingers. “I love you. I love this. I love your body. I love your cupcakes. I love everything about you.” His voice got rougher and rougher with each thrust.
She couldn’t respond, couldn’t speak. Every sensation—the feel of his cock filling her ass, his fingers shoved deep into her pussy, the press of his thumb against her clit, the slap of his body against her ass cheeks—blended together, driving her higher and higher until she was almost scared by the enormity of what was building in her.
His hips sped up until they were slamming into her, and she clutched the edge of the sink as her orgasm bore down on her like an avalanche. Leaning forward, his chest pressed against her back as he nipped at her nape, throwing her into her climax. Her muscles clenched around him, making every thrust of his cock and fingers even more intense. Pleasure like she’d never felt jetted through her, so incredibly strong that, without the reassuring heat of Ham surrounding her, she would’ve been terrified by the intensity of the sensations.
Pulling his fingers out of her pussy, he seized her hips, and the bruising clutch of his fingers drove her orgasm even higher. His thrusts went wild as he yanked her back against him, holding her so close that it felt like he was trying to actually pull her inside of him. His hips bucked again, driving him deeper than ever into her ass, and he came as her body squeezed him tightly.
With a final shudder, he released her hips. Before Leah’s wobbly muscles could give out, sending her to the floor, he wrapped his arms around her middle, helping her straighten as he held her upright. In the new position, her body sank down even more on his still-erect cock, and she moaned as an aftershock of pleasure zipped through her. Allowing her head to drop back against his chest, she relaxed, letting him take her weight.
After a few blissful minutes, she realized that his muscles were twitching with fatigue. Feeling guilty for using him as her lounge chair, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, intending to make a light comment about how he needed to sit down. He was gazing down at her, his usually stoic expression wide open, and her breath caught. There was so much naked adoration on his face that it almost hurt to look at him.
“I love you,” she said.
He smiled widely enough to show his dimple. “I love you, too, LeeLee.”
Tipping his head down, he kissed her. It was almost chaste, with closed lips and no tongue, but it was the best kiss she’d ever experienced. Of course it was—it was with Hamilton. When he raised his head, she smiled so hard her cheeks ached.
He eased his softening cock out of her ass, and she flinched.
“Sore?” he asked, his smile gone as he eyed her with concern.
“A little, but it’s not bad.” Now that she wasn’t impaled anymore, she turned to face him. “I just feel so empty when you pull out.”
Heat flared in his eyes, and she laughed as she flattened her hands on his chest. “I think we need a shower before we start round two. You’re sticky.” Smears of frosting decorated his chest.
He turned her around so she was facing away from him. Curious, she looked over her shoulder at him. His gaze ran down her body, the naked desire on his face making her shiver with renewed desire. “You’re a mess,” he said, his voice husky and filled with smug satisfaction. He scooped her up, making her shriek with surprise, and carried her to the back door. “I’m going to have to clean you up.”
“It’s your fault.” She pretended to pout as she unlocked the dead bolts. “How far you’ve come from your sex-in-the-shower-only rule.”
As he maneuvered them through the doorway into the stairwell, his eyebrows shot up in that familiar, haughty way that used to make her crazy with annoyance. Now, that same look made her crazy with need. “What about your no-sex-of-any-kind-in-the-kitchen rule?”
She sighed. “Totally worth it, but I’ll have to clean. Thoroughly.”
“I’ll help.” He climbed the stairs easily, and she marveled at his strength. Her knees were practically Jell-O after that wild bout of sex. “We’ll shower, then sleep, then clean the bakery. That way, you can open back up tomorrow.”
She bit the inside of her lip. “Tomorrow?” If Q couldn’t come in, then she’d be on her own, and the thought of working by herself was daunting. She worried that she’d jump and flash back to the episode with Jude every time a customer walked in.
“I’ll be there with you.”
“What about your work?”
He pushed open the door to the loft, apparently having left it unlocked when he went searching for her. “That was what my meeting was about. I requested two weeks off.”
“Are you going somewhere?” Disappointment flooded her at the thought of Hamilton being gone for weeks.
“The bakery.” He gave her that “duh” raised-eyebrow look again, but she was too flooded with gratitude to smack him for it.
Unexpected tears filled her eyes. “You asked for time off so I wouldn’t be alone at work?”
“Yes.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
“I love you, like, a lot.”
He laughed, and her stomach squeezed as it always did at the uncommon sound. “I know. I love you, too.” He gave her a teasing glance as he carried her to the bathroom. “Like, a lot.”
Her laugh was watery from residual tears, but so very, very happy.