The Sweet Addiction Series Collection: Sweet Addiction, Sweet Possession & Sweet Obsession (15 page)

I continue pushing against his chest, trying to back him off a bit. “You’re disgusting. I’m not interested. I’ll never be interested again. Fuck, you’re hurting me, Justin. Let go!” His fingers are digging into my skin and I want to cry, but I somehow manage to hold it in. I’ve cried enough over this asshole.

He pulls me toward him and then slams me once more against the van, this time knocking the air out of my lungs and dropping me to my knees. I fall over onto my side, gasping for air as he bends down and leans his face into mine. “Your loss,” he whispers and storms away as I finally take in enough air to calm my screaming lungs. I cough and wheeze, clutching at my chest as I struggle to pull myself up onto my feet.
What the fuck? What just happened?
Justin turned psychotic; that’s what happened. My entire body is in pain and I want to go back inside and nurse my wounds, but I can’t.

“Fucking hell,” I whimper as I climb into Sam and start him up. I pull the visor down and quickly try to recover my appearance so I don’t look like I just got molested in the street. My hair is a mess, completely unraveled from my bun and my face is streaked with makeup. I wipe under my eyes, removing my mascara, and clean up the rest of my face. Peeling my top down to reveal my shoulder, I wince at the bright red fingertip-sized marks that are highly visible. “Jesus Christ. That fucking prick.” I pull my shirt back up and cover them up quickly, resting my head back and taking in several slow deep breaths.
That bastard. I’m going to dismember him the next time I see him.
I shake my head and fix my hair. I can’t deal with this right now; I have a job to do and I need to fucking do it. I push the events that just transpired out of my mind and pull away from the curb and to a wedding where, hopefully, the only dick the bride will be sucking will be her husband’s.

Everything involving the cake delivery went smoothly. Everything except for what happened before the actual cake delivery. Soaking my sore muscles in my tub, I run through the events that transpired several hours ago in my head. Justin was never aggressive with me when we were together. He never put his hands on me like that before. So I can only chalk up his fucked up behavior to him discovering his wife’s wedding indiscretions and dealing with it like a lunatic. I find it rather perfect that he’s getting what he deserves, as long as he doesn’t deal with it at my expense. One thing is for sure, if he touches me again, he won’t have a dick to cheat on his wife with. I’ll cut that shit off and make him eat it.

My phone beeps and I sit up in the tub, pulling it off the sink and reading the message.

Reese: We still on for 8:00p.m., love?

I sigh heavily and stare at his message. I’m beyond excited to spend the evening with Reese, but I don’t want him to see the hideous marks that grace the skin of my shoulders and my upper back now. And spending time with him and not fucking is going to be a challenge. Of course, I could convince him to do clothes
on
fucking like we did at the wedding. That was still insanely hot. I nod at my decision as I type.

Me: We better be. I’m in the tub right now getting ready for you.

Reese: Prove it.

So many options here.
I slump down so the tops of my knees are sexily poking out of the water and press them against each other. I take a quick picture and send it to him.

Reese: I love those legs. Especially when they’re wrapped around my head.

Me: I especially love that too. Now stop distracting me. I have an incredibly hot CPA coming over in less than an hour.

Reese: Lucky bastard.

I dress in my favorite pair of skinny jeans, which make my ass look higher and tighter, a tight black T-shirt that has a wickedly plunging neckline, and my black pumps. For casual wear, I have to say I am looking pretty doable. My wavy blonde hair falls smoothly past my shoulders and I stick with minimal makeup tonight, just some tinted moisturizer, mascara, and some lip-gloss. A soft tapping on the glass door downstairs sends me carefully hurrying down the stairs and through the kitchen, stopping in the doorway at the sight of my date in the window.
Shit, not a date. Not a date, Dylan.

I walk through the dark bakery up to the front door, waving sweetly at him as his smile grows. Reaching up to unlock it, I see his eyes roam down my body, taking in every inch of me before they finally return to my face. I hold my hand on the lock as he studies me.

“Hi, handsome,” I say, still not turning the lock to allow him entry. His green eyes are soft and warm and I’m dying to let him in. But I’m going to wait.

“Hi, love. Are you going to open the door or are you expecting someone else? Another incredibly hot CPA maybe?” He places his hands on either side of the door and tilts his head to the side, arching his brow at me.
Oh, how I love playful Reese.

“No, just you. How well can you see me from out there?” The sight of him in jeans and a fitted gunmetal grey T-shirt, hugging his body perfectly the way I want to, is making me feel scandalous all of a sudden.

“Uh, pretty well.” He narrows his eyes at me. “What are you getting at?”

I step back a few feet and stand still. It’s dark outside already, but a street lamp that is on the nearest corner is illuminating Reese. His tall frame is the only thing I can see through the glass. I smile widely at him. “If I’m right here, can you see me okay?”

He nods. “Not as well as I’d like to, but yeah. What’s up?”

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth as I hold up a finger, indicating for him to wait a moment as I disappear into the kitchen. Carrying out a wooden chair, I sit it down in the middle of the room where I had just been standing and turn my eyes toward him. He’s studying me curiously, his eyes indicating he has no idea what’s coming. Or who is coming for that matter, because someone will definitely be coming.

“Is the sidewalk busy tonight?” I ask, moving gracefully into the chair and facing him, legs crossing in front of me and my heeled foot drawing circles in the air.

He scratches his head and glances to his left, then to his right before turning back to me. “No, I think I’m the only guy out here waiting for you. You are going to let me in, right?”

And that is the only confirmation I need to get the show started.

“Yes, in a minute.” I uncross my legs and spread them, my feet firmly planted on the tiled floor as I lean back against the hard wood. I keep my eyes on him as I slowly trail my hand down the front of me, gliding over my breasts and stopping at the top of my jeans.

“Dylan, what the fuck are you doing?”

Taking both of my hands, I pop the button of my jeans and slide my dominant hand into my panties, letting out a loud moan as I begin moving two fingers against my drenched clit. Reese braces himself against the glass with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Dylan. Holy fucking shit. Love, let me in.” His one hand grips his hair while the other pulls at the door handle repeatedly, the glass shaking slightly.

Tilting my head back, I bring my free hand up to my breast and squeeze, pulling at my erect nipple through my sheer bra and thin shirt. My fingers dip lower, spreading my wetness around and up to my enlarged hot spot as my breathing becomes loud and jagged. He begins pacing outside the window, never letting his eyes leave me or what I am doing.

“Reese, oh, God. I’m pretending it’s you touching me.” This is absolutely true. I can’t touch myself anymore and not imagine it isn’t him.

“Fuck. Let me in and I
will
be touching you.”

Closing my eyes, I move my fingers in quick circles. I think of the first time he touched me at the wedding, the way his hands slid up my thighs. The way he gripped my hips and pulled me against him, meeting his thrusts with such force that I thought he would break me. His eyes, his lips, the way he filled me completely on Tuesday and the feel of his skin against my skin. How he kept his eyes on me when he was devouring me between my legs. I’m moaning loudly, working myself up, and then I feel it. The pull. The heat. Slow and steady pouring over me and flushing my entire body. I pulse against my hand, coming long and hard all by myself.

“Reese.” Bucking against the chair, I hold my fingers still but apply enough pressure to give me what I need. My eyes are closed and my head is thrown back, but through my moans I hear several bouts of pounding on the glass going on and know he’s dying out there. I don’t know why, he’ll definitely be getting his in a minute.

Lifting my head slowly, I push myself out of the chair and calmly button my jeans before I move to stand directly in front of the door. I smile slyly at his appearance. I feel amazing and he looks completely frazzled, hair sticking out all over the place, eyes wide, jaw tightly clenched. I bite my cheek and giggle.

“You’re going to kill me. You know this, right?” he says as I slowly slip my fingers into my mouth and suck on them. He runs his hand through his hair while the other one grips the door handle. “Dylan, if you don’t let me in right now, I’ll be replacing your door tomorrow.”

I snicker and pull my fingers out of my mouth, quickly reaching up and unlocking the door as he barges through and pulls me against him. Picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist, he turns and locks the door behind us with his free hand before he brings his mouth to mine, his other hand holding me up.

“So fucking sexy, love. But don’t do that again,” he says between kisses, and I pull back, seeing his serious expression.

“You didn’t like my show? It was just for you.” He carries me over to the counter and sits me down on top of it, settling his body between my thighs. His hands run up my arms, brushing lightly over my shoulders and up my neck as he slowly traces my throat with his fingers.

“I loved your show. But I don’t like not being able to get to you. I was dying out there.” I smile and press my forehead against his as he trails his fingertips down my neck and over the top of my breasts. “You look beautiful by the way,” he says softly before pressing his lips firmly against mine. I open for him, allowing his tongue to dip softly into my mouth. His kisses aren’t urgent this time. They’re slow and lasting, as if he’s savoring this moment with me. Swallowing my moans, his breath comes out in hot spurts and fills me with my favorite minty flavor. I press my chest against his as his hands wrap around my waist and slowly stroke my back, my hands clamped behind his neck. We both break away at the same time, our foreheads reclaiming their spot against each other’s and our uneven breathing surrounding us.

“Missed your face,” I say, regretting it instantly because he didn’t need to know that.
Crap. I have an orgasm and drop my guard like an amateur.

“Just my face?” he asks playfully. He brushes my hair behind my ear and runs his fingers through the waves.

I shake my head and begin slowly scratching the back of his neck. His eyes close and a tiny sound of pleasure escapes him, making me smile. “I missed your face too,” he replies as he reopens his eyes and traces down the sides of my temples, across my cheekbones, and down to my lips where I kiss the tips of his fingers.

His words warm me the way they shouldn’t and I know I need to break this moment before I say something I really don’t want him to know. I’m not only weak when it comes to sex around this man. He is slowly infiltrating every part of my soul. “Want a tour?” His lips pull up in the corner and he steps back, holding out his hand to help me off the counter. I quickly drop my hand out of his before I become too familiar with the sensation and walk through the doorway that leads to the kitchen. Flipping on the lights, I walk around the large workbench, feeling him watch me from where he stands.

“Okay, so this is where I spend my time whipping up my fabulous creations and trying desperately not to eat them, which I usually fail at miserably.” I motion around the room and hear a soft laugh from his direction. “Storage, fridge, freezer, and oh, shit.” I spot a vat of icing that I’d made earlier this morning when I was testing out a new recipe. Grabbing the bowl I’d placed on the shelf, I stick my pinky finger into the hot pink frosting and slip it into my mouth.

“Mmm, yummy,” I say as I flick my eyes up to Reese who is perched against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s watching me with concentrated interest, which I’m beginning to notice is a pattern of his. “Oh, I found this recipe for chocolate peppermint frosting and had some extra time this morning to play around with it. Until I realized I
didn’t
have extra time, and I stupidly left it out.” I lick my lips and his eyes widen. “Wanna taste?”