by Casey Morgan
“But it doesn’t feel wrong,” she told me, frowning. “I want you. Don’t you want me?”
I smoothed the hair from her face and put a few strands behind her ear. I couldn’t lie to her and say I didn’t want her. I did, but I just wasn’t supposed to act on it.
“I need you to go,” I choked out.
She jumped to her feet and stared down at me. Her small hands were in fists and she swung her arms slightly with rage.
“You don’t want me?” she hissed.
I held my hands up, palms open, and tried to calm her.
“You don’t understand, Celeste. I’m just here to do a job. I can’t… I can’t have you. It’s not right.”
She turned quickly and was up the stairs without another word. I was alone again in the moonlight.
I let out a deep breath and turned back to the windows that lined the front of the shop. Part of me—mostly my dick—told me I had just made a big mistake.
I rubbed at my aching cock and wished that it would go down.
But my heart seemed to have something to say, too.
It was as if it had wanted me to be with Celeste just as much as my dick did.
Or at least it wanted me to have given Celeste a better explanation for why I couldn’t be. That would be impossible, though.
And my heart was not something I could just rub and make go away.
Stupid dick.
Stupid heart.
Stupid me.
Sleep was going to be impossible now.
Chapter Ten
Celeste
I woke up with the taste of Mason’s lips on mine. I couldn’t believe I had kissed him the night before; it was a show of boldness like I had never done before. A show he had turned down.
My cheeks reddened and I pulled a pillow over my face. And I had to go downstairs and see him.
Great.
I had seriously made a mess out of things.
But I knew deep down he had wanted me just as much as I wanted him. He was holding back for some reason. I was determined to find out why.
Still. All Mason was here for was to protect the shop, I told myself. He wasn’t here to kiss me or love me or…take my virginity.
He was a man who was doing a job, a kindness to me and my family. It didn’t matter how he looked with his broad shoulders and big muscles. It didn’t matter how he made me feel. I needed to suppress my attraction and take charge of the bakery.
And that’s what I was going to do. We had orders that were coming in for cookie baskets. And that was what was the priority.
If we had a good Valentine’s Day this year, maybe there would be enough profit to move our shop—if I could convince my father. He had to be open to the idea of leaving this godforsaken place now, after his beating. He just had to.
I pulled the pillow from my face and turned on the light by my bedside. My alarm clock flashed 4:44 am—one minute before it was set to go off. I reached over and turned it off before it could make a sound.
Usually, Mom and Dad were the ones who started baking this early in the morning. But today, they both needed to concentrate on Dad’s health. Everything having to do with running the bakery was up to me.
I dressed quickly and tried not to linger too long on choosing what to wear. Mason wasn’t interested, I kept telling myself.
He’s not looking, so don’t bother to show off.
I wore my tightest pink sweater anyway. It was the only one I owned that showed off how narrow my waist was. I soothed my long jeans skirt over my hips, glanced at myself one more time in the mirror and opened my bedroom door.
I promised myself I would keep my head held high and maintain a professional manner with Mason at all times. This day would go smoothly, even if I had to plaster a smile on my lips.
I tiptoed down the stairs. I figured I could be down and into the kitchen before Mason even woke up. But as I reached the bottom step, I realized that that plan was not to be. He was up and doing pushups—shirtless.
Oh shit!
The lights downstairs weren’t on, but just enough light came in the front windows from the street lights outside for me to be able to see him. That light gave a glow to his creamy skin and showed off the muscles of his back, which rippled with every move—every thrust.
I watched, frozen, as he repeatedly pushed off the floor and then lowered himself down. His biceps bulged and swelled, and he kept his back very straight.
With each set, he would lower himself to the ground slower and slower to increase the resistance on his arms. His groin would barely brush the floor before he snapped back up again. Good God, I wanted to be on the floor underneath him!
Just as a moan threatened to escape my mouth, I clamped my hands over it and ran into the kitchen. The swinging doors swung back and forth behind me. They were loud. If Mason didn’t know I was awake before, he did now.
“Just got to keep it together,” I whispered to myself, as I fixed my pony-tail. “Plenty to do. Plenty to do.”
Besides, Mason would probably stay in the seating area all day so that he could watch the windows. That’s what a good protector would do. He wouldn’t be around me at all.
And Mary had promised to come in early. So, she would be back here with me, talking to me, distracting me, and keeping me from acting like a love-sick fool.
Satisfied with my plan of how the day would go, I gave myself a nod and turned on the lights in the kitchen. I glanced around as I decided what to do first. The kitchen was clean and neat, just as I had left it the night before.
I strolled over to the left side counter and pulled out the largest mixing bowl. It was purple. My parents usually went for plainer things, but this was one I picked out when I was five years old, and they bought it to please me. It was still my favorite.
I swept it and a few other items onto the center island and flipped through the recipes till I found the one I wanted—apple-carrot muffins.
Yuck!
Personally, I liked a good blueberry muffin in the morning, but our customers were getting health conscious and apple-carrot muffins sold well.
I gathered all the necessary ingredients and started pealing the carrots. That was about the time my body got over the shock of being up so early and started demanding breakfast. It was still an hour before we opened, so I figured I had time to make myself some toast, but not regular toast—that was boring. Instead, I was going to make delicious cinnamon-sugar toast.
I flipped on a burner and adjusted the flame to the perfect height, then grabbed one of the cast iron pans. Toast is always better done on the stove.
A slice or two of mom’s whole-wheat bread, which she had made the day before, was just the thing to make it even more scrumptious. I buttered each side, sprinkled it with cinnamon and then sugar and then dropped it in the pan to get nice and crisp.
The door behind me swung open. I didn’t turn. I couldn’t. I just kept making my breakfast and hoping that the person coming up behind me was my mother.
It wasn’t.
“Mornin’.”
I tried to reply, but my voice just wouldn’t work. What came out of my mouth was a weird half croak, that sounded nothing like a greeting. I felt my whole face flush, so I turned quickly and nodded like what I said was comprehensible.
I flipped the two pieces of bread, trying to keep my focus on what I was doing and not on the large, muscular man behind me.
Maybe I should add some more butter?
I moved one of the slices with the spatula to test how soaked it was. It squished just a little.
Nope, the butter content was just perfect.
“Smells wonderful.”
He came closer and peeked over my shoulder. I could feel the heat of his body.
Shit! I gotta feed him. That was part of our agreement.
“I don’t suppose that toast is enough for a big man like you?”
I kept my eyes on the pan, but somehow, I knew he was smiling.
“No, Miss.”
“Don’t get so formal. It’s just me. Celeste.”
I reached over and grabbed another pan. Another burner flared to life and I set the new pan down over the heat.
“Go to the fridge and grab the bacon.”
I heard him walk across the room and then I heard the clang of the refrigerator’s door opening.
“And the eggs?” he asked.
The question sounded hopeful.
“And the eggs.”
Bacon, eggs and toast- that was a feast to my parents and me these days, but I told Mason I would feed him, and I planned to keep my word. Another pan went on a different burner and soon I had everything cooking at once.
I glanced at the clock and started mixing the muffins at the same time. They needed to get in the oven, or our regulars were going to be disappointed.
There was only about three feet between the counters and the middle island. It wasn’t a lot of room, but Mason seemed to try to occupy it anyway.
He stood behind me and looked over my shoulder as I flipped the toast, eggs, and bacon. When I needed to turn back to the muffins I was mixing, I came face to face—or rather face to chest—with him.
“Excuse me?” I tried to say it nicely, but there was a little bit of snark to it.
Mason moved back, but only about a foot. I tried to ignore the heat of his body and the musky, clean smell he had, but it was hard with him right next to me.
I took one of our wooden spoons and started to mix the muffin batter. A tiny bit slopped out and smacked right into Mason’s blue shirt.
“Sorry,” I said on instinct and then wished I hadn’t.
It really was his fault. He was crowding me.
“Not a problem.”
He lifted the t-shirt to his mouth and licked the batter off. The movement gave me a glimpse of his rock-hard abs and the top of his jeans.
Oh God yes!
My pussy quivered. I had to grip the wooden spoon tighter and remind myself to stir.
I will not stare! I will not stare!
“What’s in these?” he asked, pointing to the bowl.
“Carrots, apples, ginger,” I caught myself. I was running out of time and really, just needed him out of the way. He was too distracting. “Look why don’t you just sit down?”
I pointed to the small wooden table at the end of the room by the back door.
“I have tons to do and you’re not helping.”
I flinched at my own words. I had promised myself I would be professional, but now I was starting to sound like the angry girl I was.
“I could help.”
“What?”
I looked up into his dark-brown eyes.
He smiled.
“I can cook some and I follow directions really well— Army trained and all. I just don’t sit and wait well,” he explained. “I’m used to being up and moving. And I figure, with your folks stuck upstairs, maybe you could use an extra pair of hands.”
To emphasize his point, he held up his large, strong hands with the palms facing up. I ran my eyes over his rough, manly palms and his thick fingers. Fingers I wished were in my pussy; fucking me raw.
Oh God!
I took a deep breath.
Professional, I am professional.
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Fine,” I agreed.
This way I could always direct him to be as far away as possible from me.
“Grab the two muffin tins from the drawers by the fridge and grease them with butter. You can work over there.”
I pointed towards the far side of the island.
Mason nodded and got to work. By the time Mary came in at ten-till-six, we had two trays of muffins in the oven, our breakfasts eaten, and we were both making batches of doughnuts.
I directed Mason to stay on his side of the room and I kept to mine. It was working, sort of.
Mary came in, tying her green flowered apron, and looked us both over. Her blue eyes went a little wide at the sight of Mason baking, but she seemed to accept it quickly.
“Mrs. Henderson is already outside,” she told me. “She needs a whole rack of something to take for her class today. I guess they all did well on their spelling tests and she promised to bring in a sweet treat.”
“A whole tray?!”
This was a great way to start the day. However, apple-carrot muffins would not do for a class of fifth-graders.
“Ask her how long she has? I can have a tray of banana-chocolate chip muffins cooked in twenty.”
I pulled the tray of freshly baked healthy muffins out of the oven, pulled one and thrust it at my friend.
“Give her this and make coffee.”
Mary stared down at the muffin in her hands.
Her little body was shaking a bit.
“You want me out front… to deal with the customers, alone?”
I looked over at Mason, who was busy mixing batter— his large arms flexing— and decided that I was okay with the idea of him being back here all day. I took a second to step forward and put a hand on Mary’s slim shoulder.
“You can do it. Just for a little while. Okay? I need to be back here baking. Just let me know if you have any problems.”
She was still shaking, but she nodded once and headed back upfront—the muffin held tightly in her hands.
Mason and I were alone again, and I was happy to find myself in that predicament.
Chapter Eleven
Mason
The doughnuts I made were great, but my first batch of sugar cookies burnt. I was so excited to pull them out of the oven, but when I did, the bottoms were black and crusty.
Here I thought I was helping but really, I was just making things worse. I sighed and used a hot pad to get them on to the cooling rack.
Celeste came over and looked at the cookie sheet. She frowned and bit her lip. We had been having a good day working together.
She seemed to have forgiven me for my refusal last night and was happily giving me instructions. She was really a strong girl and I respected her.
Taking a spatula, she raked one of the cookies from off the sheet and took a bite. I watched, with too much interest, as she brought the cookie to her small mouth and wrapped her pouty lips around it.
“Well, they still taste good,” she said, in between bites. “So, it’s not a complete loss. If we had more time I would have you scrape the backs, but as it is, just start a new batch and put those in Tupperware. Mary will take some home and you and I will have a treat for later.”
I watched as her mouth formed the word treat. I loved how her lips formed Ts. It made me want to slide my cock in between them and give her a different kind of treat.
Lost in my dirty thoughts, I stared at Celeste’s lips for a second too long. When I met her eyes, she was giving me an odd look— one eyebrow raised. It must have been so obvious that I wanted her, and she was clearly confused as to why I had pushed her away.
She’s only human, I reminded myself, for the fiftieth time that day. You cannot be happy with a human.
Her little pink tongue darted out and swept over her lips. The movement brought my eyes right back to them and again, I was mesmerized.
She had done it on purpose, I knew, but still it was hard to look away. I wanted to feel the pillow-like softness of her lips on mine and on my cock, which was starting to ache.
She had kept to the opposite side of the kitchen for most of the day, but it was still full of her presence and so was my brain. Celeste was constantly bending down with her round ass in the air, to check things in the oven.
Her hips swayed and bounced as she stirred bowls or beat eggs. Every movement she made while doing her job was one that I wanted repeated while my dick was nestled in between her legs.
She licked her lips again. My body moved towards hers against my will. I was reaching for her face.
One of the double doors swung in and we jumped apart. Mary came in jumping up and down, a notepad clutche
d in her tiny hands.
“You will never guess what!” she shrieked.
It was the loudest noise I had ever heard her make.
Celeste leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms in front of her chest. It was a move that was supposed to look casual, but really, she was coving her nipples that were so hard they were poking up against the fabric of her pink sweater.
Mary looked between us and started to back out.
“What, Mary?” Celeste barked. “What is your news?”
Given the go ahead, Mary became animated again and started bouncing.
“Well, you know how Mayor Hendricks has that policy where he is trying to help small businesses?”
Celeste nodded. She was still frowning, obviously annoyed at her friend’s interruption.
“Well, his office just called,” Mary continued, “and they are ordering Valentine’s Day baskets from the Crescent Moon!”
Celeste blinked at the other girl and brought her hands up to her face.
“Oh my God! How many did they order? Five? Ten?”
“Fifty!” Mary yelled. “And they are announcing it on the local news tonight!”
Mary bounced around the room like a squirrel. Celeste dropped her hands to her sides and looked down. She was in shock. Tears were leaking down her cheeks.
“Celeste?”
I reached out a hand and almost took hers, but, remembering at the last second that Mary was there and that I couldn’t have Celeste no matter how much I wanted her, I held back just a few inches.
“Celeste, are you alright?”
She looked up at me. Her icy-blue eyes were wet, and she was visibly weeping with joy.
“Mason. Mason, this changes everything. That order alone will get my family out of the red. We won’t be stretched and starving. It might even be enough to move the bakery— that is, if I can convince my father.”
She wiped her face and rubbed her hands on her little white apron.
“We’ve got to get to work on the baskets now. I had ten ordered already, and now we have fifty more. We’ll have to be baking cookies all day for the next few days. But I know we can do it in time. Mary, find the heart shaped cookie cutters!”