Page 7 of Merry Me Bad Boy

My strength lasted for all but a week. A week of the two of us dancing around each other, keeping a breathable distance between our bodies.

At first, I thought it was just me. Yesterday, when I leaned over to see her decorating ordament shaped cookies, the way she sucked in air and got so flushed, I can’t call that a coincidence.

I think Abby feels what I do. That magnetic pull that keeps us close.

The night before, I stroked my cock to her. Gripped myself so brutally tight because after going so long wanting the woman without actually touching her… it’s done some serious damage.

Thought about burying my fingers through her blue strands and tugging her hair back so I could get a nice close look of her face.

The sound she made in my mind, fuck, it was beautiful. The same sound she made when she noticed how close I’d gotten. I remembered it perfectly. Those light gasps and hushed words.

By the time I came, I was almost thankful for that shitty music down in the bar. It covered my groan perfectly.

Now, watching her explain to me how to frost a cupcake, I can’t help but think about that little fantasy I had playing out in my head.

I am a bad man, there is no doubt about that. The things I want to do to this woman are shameful.

Clueless as ever, Abby gives me a smile when I try to repeat her own motion and fail terribly.

Thanks to all the snow flowing down from the sky, we have some extra time to practice. After reassuring me that it will be a slow day, I know there is no pressure. Any wasted frosting can simply be scooped off and re-added to the bag.

By the fifth attempt, I’m waiting for her to give up on me. Then she makes matters so much worse.

Stepping much closer, she leans over and wraps her hands around mine. Guiding my hands where they need to be, she squeezes my fingers and glides frosting in a circular motion. There is no doubt that the cupcake doesn’t look great, but it is an improvement from my own work.

She’s never touched me before, not like this. Not so close that when I breathe, I can taste sugar.

Looking at her is the final nail. My cock is hard and throbbing, pressing deep into the zipper of my jeans. Might as well have a permanent zigzag design from now on.

Tilting her chin up, her eyes open up a bit more like she’s realized what she’s done. If this is supposed to be her training me how to frost a cupcake, why doesn’t it feel educational?

Is it because she still hasn’t lifted her hands away yet?

Her mouth flattens before she forces out a laugh. Her hands drag away painfully slowly before she plucks off one of her gloves.

“So messy,” she mumbles as she reaches out and swipes something off of my cheek. Must’ve been some spare frosting retaliating sometime earlier.

For a moment, I question my belief in her feelings. After all, she’s not shyly looking away or trying to keep a foot between us. This may really just be her trying to teach me how to do the job she’s hired me for.

Then, all that goes right out the window when she pauses before bringing her thumb to her mouth.

Call it a moment of forgetfulness, or a moment of pure torture, but I can’t take it anymore. I need Abby.

Cupcakes be damned, I am ripping off my gloves and moving everything to the side. Enjoying the way she gasps, I grab her and set her down on top of the table. Once she is level with my eyes, there is no way I’m mistaking the look she’s giving me.

We’re two of the same, stuck in our thoughts with the need of a push to get us over the line of what is right and what is wrong.

“Tell me to stop,” I order, my voice thick. If I am going to get fired from this job because I can’t stop myself, it’s going to be because I do something the woman wants me to do.

She doesn’t do what I want her to, if anything, it’s the opposite. With both hands, one gloved and the other not, she grabs the front of my apron and pulls me forward.

Clearly, we’ve both been suffering. Way too fucking much.

A gasp leaves her lips when my teeth graze her throat. The sound goes straight to my cock, right int he same direction as the rest of her rapid breaths go.

Kissing my way up her throat, I eventually find her mouth. The way she opens up so easily, it makes my insides quiver.

I refuse to believe that this woman isn’t made for me. All of those failed relationships in my past have felt like nothing compared to the hunger I feel for Abby, I’m left believing fate simply wanted to torture me for the last decade.