“Yes. Ohgod. Ohgod.” My stomach clenches and twists as my pussy aches. He slides one hand around my waist and down my stomach until his thumb is working my clit. My fingernails dig into the leather as he rubs me in the way that only he knows how. I’m pulsing, shaking against him. My climax was already on the brink before I crashed down on top of him and the feel of him inside me with no barrier and now working me the way he’s doing pushes me quickly over the edge. I throw my head back and give into the release. “Reese. I’m coming.” His hand grabs my face and tilts it down, forcing me to look at him. His eyes burn into mine, capturing me as he grunts loudly.

“Dylan, oh FUCK.” I feel his orgasm burst inside me, warm and lingering, and I never want anything more than I want him in this moment. This is amazing. Everything about him is amazing. He pumps once, twice, three times and stills, his eyes staying on mine and giving me the satisfaction of watching him come undone. And then I collapse on top of him, my head hitting his chest as his hand comes up and holds me there. I’ve never felt anything like that. Not even close. He has officially ruined all other men for me and I am perfectly fine with that.

Seven

I was wrecked, ruined, and completely okay with it. I stayed in Reese’s arms after we both climaxed for what seemed like hours. He held me, never asking me to move or shift in anyway. I could feel him slowly getting hard again inside me but he didn’t push for us to do it again. He seemed as content as I was just softly stroking my back as my head nuzzled into his neck. I relished in his scent, the smell of him after sex. He still smelled like citrus, but it was mixed with sweat and I knew right then that nothing would ever smell that good. Or feel this good. Which I hated myself for thinking. His air was the only air I wanted to breathe now and it did me no good to think like that. But I couldn’t help it. I was officially screwed and I knew it.

We spent an hour on the couch together, laughing and talking as he held me against him. I felt terribly embarrassed for not knowing minor details about the man that brought me the most pleasure I’d ever experienced. Like the fact that he was thirty-one years old. He grew up in south side and graduated from the University of Chicago when he was twenty-six with a Bachelor of Science Degree in Accounting and a Master’s in Business Administration. He made partner when he was twenty-eight which sounded like a major feat for someone so young. The man was as smart as he was attractive, and I felt completely relaxed listening to him talk about college and his family. He had a younger sister who lived in Detroit who was married with two kids, and his parents were still married after thirty-eight years and lived in Maywood. I told him about my parents and how they encouraged me to open my bakery. Being an only child, they were immensely proud of me and spoke of me like I had invented a cure for cancer and not a fabulous white chocolate truffle recipe. We talked about how close I was with Juls and Joey, and how Juls and Ian were practically living together now. Inseparable and mad for each other. I told him about my morning runs and how most days I wished that I had an IPod to drown out Joey’s bitchy rants, but other days I enjoyed them.

It was an amazing night and not just because of the sex. I’d never enjoyed just talking with someone the way I did with Reese. I didn’t want to move at all. I could have stayed in his arms all night but I knew I shouldn’t. No sleepovers. After a few hours, I asked him to drive me home and the look on his face when we pulled up in front of the bakery was priceless. He had no idea I lived there. Of course he wouldn’t know that, you aren’t dating, Dylan. I kissed him briefly good night, wanting more than anything to invite him inside to see my place but I didn’t. I managed to be strong in that one moment. This was just sex and if I wanted to keep doing this with Reese, I needed to remember that.

I hadn’t seen or talked to him since our amazing fuck fest on Tuesday which was making things easier and harder at the same time. Easier because I was realizing that he saw this for what it was and it was making me keep myself in check. And harder because a part of me didn’t want him to see it that way anymore. I spent all day Wednesday staring at my cell phone, waiting for a text or a call from him until I stupidly realized that he never actually got my number from me. The one time he had called me, he’d called the shop directly.

Thursday, Joey and I were slammed with four consultations, two weddings, an anniversary cake, and a birthday cake request. The wedding consultations both took forever because the brides had decided to include the grooms inputs and no one could decide on anything. Luckily for me, Joey was great at getting people to compromise, a trait that I loved more and more about him with each passing wedding consultation. After I had finished up with my meetings, I spent the rest of the evening in the kitchen throwing together the tarts I had promised the gentleman on Monday. They were relatively easy to make after I fucked up the first one royally. I ended up using strawberries, kiwi, and mangos to top the tarts with an apricot jam. After managing to only eat one of them, I passed out in my bed and dreamed the same recurring Reese sex dreams that kept getting better. I stopped fighting it. It was useless really. Besides, the sleep I was now getting was some of the best I’ve ever gotten. Especially when I woke up from an orgasm.

**

Standing behind the counter at 11:30 a.m. on Friday, I let my mind wander to what Reese is doing at this exact moment. I can picture him strikingly sitting behind his desk, working on some audit or whatever and doing it in a way that only he can make sexy. His hair is a right sexy mess, his green eyes are narrowed in on his task, and his massive erection is waiting for me. The shop door opens and I shake my head to clear it.

“Something or someone on your mind, cupcake? I know that look.” Joey strolls in, returning from our favorite little sandwich shop down the street and placing the bag of the best chicken salad sandwiches in Chicago in front of me. My mouth begins to water at the smell and I suddenly realize that all I’ve eaten the past few days has been predominately sugar. I was going to develop diabetes if I didn’t watch myself.

“No, nothing on my mind except for this sandwich that I’m about to destroy.” The bell on the front door dings and I glance up, my heart thumping hard against my bones at the sight of the delivery man.

Joey hurriedly scurries to my side. “Ooohhh goody. Today has sucked ass and I need something romantic from my favorite numbers guy.” The delivery man smiles and places a small brown envelope onto the counter, handing me a slip to sign on his clipboard.

“Your favorite numbers guy? And what about Billy?” I ask, handing the man back his paperwork and staring at him suspiciously when he doesn’t exit the shop.

“He’s not a numbers guy. He’s a lawyer. A hot ass lawyer who is taking me someplace uber fancy tonight.”

“Awesome. Did you need something else?” I ask the man who stands patiently waiting.

“I’ve been instructed to wait until after you’re read the letter to leave,” he states nonchalantly.

“Oh, okay.” I turn to Joey who looks at me like he has no idea what is going on either as I open the envelope and pull out a small card. My heart begins hammering in my chest and I automatically reach up and place my free hand over it.

Dylan,

It’s come to my attention that the only number I have for you is the bakery number. Now how am I supposed to send you text messages saying that I want you to sit on my face? Or that I can’t stop thinking about the way it felt to be inside you? OR that I want to see you sometime this weekend if you’re free. Please be free.