Tied with Me
Page 11
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“Friends don’t usually threaten to spank each other’s asses,” she murmurs softly.
I lean back in my chair, not answering her, and cross my arms again as she pulls herself together.
“I should head home,” she says finally and stands. “I have to be in the shop early tomorrow.”
“It was good to see you, Nic,” I reply, allowing her to run. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She looks like she wants to say something more, probably to tell me not to bother coming into her shop, but she just shrugs and offers me a half smile before turning and walking away.
Yes, I’ll definitely be seeing you tomorrow.
Chapter Three
~Nicole~
This ass would love to smack your pretty little ass until it glows.
Christ on a crutch, who in the bloody hell says something like that?
I turn onto my side and stare at my alarm clock. 4:43. My alarm is going to go off in seventeen minutes, and I haven’t slept a wink. Not even after a three-mile run and a hot, hot shower.
Instead, all I could hear was Matt’s deep voice running through my head. His ice-blue eyes haunted me, the way they shine when he’s happy and darken when he’s turned on.
And they darken a lot when he looks at me.
I’d like to lick him.
Except, he would rather tie me up.
And the part that scares me is, I’d like for him to tie me up, too.
Dear God, what is wrong with me?
I sit up and turn off my alarm before trudging into the bathroom to begin getting ready for my day. When I go down to the shop in the mornings to bake the cupcakes for the day, I forgo any makeup in favor of comfort, then run upstairs about thirty minutes before we open to primp and be presentable for the clients. So it only takes a few minutes to pull on clothes, push my hair back with a headband—the one reason that I regret cutting my hair is no more ponytails—and I’m on my way down to the kitchen.
My work space is my pride and joy. I attended countless used commercial kitchen auctions, biding my time until I found the perfect equipment for just the right price. The stainless steel counters gleam under the fluorescent lights. My ovens are almost orgasm-inducing.
I love this place.
The front of the house was designed with the same care. I have a long glass display case that can hold roughly fifty dozen cupcakes at any time. I have an industrial espresso machine that would make Starbucks proud.
The color scheme is red, white and black. The floor is covered in black and white tile. The tables are little black wrought iron bistro tables for two covered in red tablecloths, and there is a long pub-height table by the front windows where people can stand with their treats and watch the traffic or the many musicians who come and go out of the nondescript recording studio across the street.
I’ve been open for just over a year, and I couldn’t be happier with the success of the shop. Succulent Sweets has made a profit from the first month, which I know is rare.
I work my ass off for it.
I set out my ingredients for the different flavors of cakes and dig in immediately. It’s a Sunday, so I’m open only half the day, from nine to one, but I still have orders to fill for two birthday parties, a baptism and a baby shower.
Thank God cupcakes are all the rage these days.
After the cupcakes that will be sold in the shop are all baked for the day, I let them cool while I bake the special orders. Just as I’m about to begin decorating, Tess, my part-time employee, bounces into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” she sings and smiles widely.
“You are very chipper for this early on a Sunday morning,” I respond with a smile. “And good morning.”
“I went out last night,” she announces as she ties her white apron around her trim waist. Tess is tall and thin, with thick blond, red and pink hair. She wears black-rimmed glasses that are almost as big as her face, but she insists they’re very cool.
And, I have to admit, she looks adorable in them.
She pulls her hair back into a ponytail and grabs some frosting out of the fridge, ready to help me finish up today’s baking.
“Who is he?” I ask.
“His name is Sean…” She scrunches up her face. “Sean something.”
“Geez, Tess.”
“Oh stop, I had a bit to drink. He’s tall and built, and he has his nipples pierced.”
“Ouch,” I reply with a laugh.
Tess laughs with me as she frosts the lemon cupcakes with lemon frosting.
“How was your night?” she asks.
“Fine. I just went to the gym.”
“Oh.” She sighs and looks at me like I’m an old maid.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“I just wish you’d go out and have fun,” she replies and arranges the lemon cupcakes on a long plastic tray, ready for the glass case.
“I do go out and have fun,” I reply.
“Going to kitchen auctions is not having fun,” she responds sarcastically.
I send her the stink eye, and she visibly shrinks before holding her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sure the kitchen auctions are totally fun and full of really hot guys.”
“You’re a smart-ass.” I laugh and put the finishing touches on two dozen It’s A Girl treats for my client.
“You love me,” she replies and kisses my cheek before she bounces out to arrange the glass case out front.
“Okay,” I announce when she returns, “these special orders just need to be boxed up. Do you mind doing that while I run upstairs and shower? I’ll finish up with the daily special when I come back down.”
I lean back in my chair, not answering her, and cross my arms again as she pulls herself together.
“I should head home,” she says finally and stands. “I have to be in the shop early tomorrow.”
“It was good to see you, Nic,” I reply, allowing her to run. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She looks like she wants to say something more, probably to tell me not to bother coming into her shop, but she just shrugs and offers me a half smile before turning and walking away.
Yes, I’ll definitely be seeing you tomorrow.
Chapter Three
~Nicole~
This ass would love to smack your pretty little ass until it glows.
Christ on a crutch, who in the bloody hell says something like that?
I turn onto my side and stare at my alarm clock. 4:43. My alarm is going to go off in seventeen minutes, and I haven’t slept a wink. Not even after a three-mile run and a hot, hot shower.
Instead, all I could hear was Matt’s deep voice running through my head. His ice-blue eyes haunted me, the way they shine when he’s happy and darken when he’s turned on.
And they darken a lot when he looks at me.
I’d like to lick him.
Except, he would rather tie me up.
And the part that scares me is, I’d like for him to tie me up, too.
Dear God, what is wrong with me?
I sit up and turn off my alarm before trudging into the bathroom to begin getting ready for my day. When I go down to the shop in the mornings to bake the cupcakes for the day, I forgo any makeup in favor of comfort, then run upstairs about thirty minutes before we open to primp and be presentable for the clients. So it only takes a few minutes to pull on clothes, push my hair back with a headband—the one reason that I regret cutting my hair is no more ponytails—and I’m on my way down to the kitchen.
My work space is my pride and joy. I attended countless used commercial kitchen auctions, biding my time until I found the perfect equipment for just the right price. The stainless steel counters gleam under the fluorescent lights. My ovens are almost orgasm-inducing.
I love this place.
The front of the house was designed with the same care. I have a long glass display case that can hold roughly fifty dozen cupcakes at any time. I have an industrial espresso machine that would make Starbucks proud.
The color scheme is red, white and black. The floor is covered in black and white tile. The tables are little black wrought iron bistro tables for two covered in red tablecloths, and there is a long pub-height table by the front windows where people can stand with their treats and watch the traffic or the many musicians who come and go out of the nondescript recording studio across the street.
I’ve been open for just over a year, and I couldn’t be happier with the success of the shop. Succulent Sweets has made a profit from the first month, which I know is rare.
I work my ass off for it.
I set out my ingredients for the different flavors of cakes and dig in immediately. It’s a Sunday, so I’m open only half the day, from nine to one, but I still have orders to fill for two birthday parties, a baptism and a baby shower.
Thank God cupcakes are all the rage these days.
After the cupcakes that will be sold in the shop are all baked for the day, I let them cool while I bake the special orders. Just as I’m about to begin decorating, Tess, my part-time employee, bounces into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” she sings and smiles widely.
“You are very chipper for this early on a Sunday morning,” I respond with a smile. “And good morning.”
“I went out last night,” she announces as she ties her white apron around her trim waist. Tess is tall and thin, with thick blond, red and pink hair. She wears black-rimmed glasses that are almost as big as her face, but she insists they’re very cool.
And, I have to admit, she looks adorable in them.
She pulls her hair back into a ponytail and grabs some frosting out of the fridge, ready to help me finish up today’s baking.
“Who is he?” I ask.
“His name is Sean…” She scrunches up her face. “Sean something.”
“Geez, Tess.”
“Oh stop, I had a bit to drink. He’s tall and built, and he has his nipples pierced.”
“Ouch,” I reply with a laugh.
Tess laughs with me as she frosts the lemon cupcakes with lemon frosting.
“How was your night?” she asks.
“Fine. I just went to the gym.”
“Oh.” She sighs and looks at me like I’m an old maid.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“I just wish you’d go out and have fun,” she replies and arranges the lemon cupcakes on a long plastic tray, ready for the glass case.
“I do go out and have fun,” I reply.
“Going to kitchen auctions is not having fun,” she responds sarcastically.
I send her the stink eye, and she visibly shrinks before holding her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sure the kitchen auctions are totally fun and full of really hot guys.”
“You’re a smart-ass.” I laugh and put the finishing touches on two dozen It’s A Girl treats for my client.
“You love me,” she replies and kisses my cheek before she bounces out to arrange the glass case out front.
“Okay,” I announce when she returns, “these special orders just need to be boxed up. Do you mind doing that while I run upstairs and shower? I’ll finish up with the daily special when I come back down.”
