Gingerbread Kisses

by Kat Baxter

  He frowns, glances at me. “Doesn’t seem like oversharing to me. We’re not exactly strangers. And I like hearing about you.”

  “Jeff always told me I talked too much and that no one needed to know every thought that came to mind.”

  “Jeff sounds like a dumbass.”

  I grin at him. “That’s what Annie calls him.”

  “It’s refreshing that you’re honest. And that you’re not pretending to be someone you aren’t. I can tell you from experience that that is exhausting.”

  “So how long are you staying?” I ask.

  “Staying?”

  “Here? In Sand Dollar?”

  He swallows, then takes a sip of his wine. “Didn’t your mom tell you? I’m back. For good.”

  The food I’ve just swallowed forms a knot in my throat and I take a swig of water to keep from choking. “Uh, no, she must have forgotten to mention it.” Danger, Will Robinson. I’m on a date. An actual date. This can’t be a short holiday fling. He’s not leaving. He’s here to stay. I slowly exhale to try and slow my heart rate.

  “The old shoe store below,” he continues. “I bought it. I’m turning it into an art gallery to showcase mostly local artists. Sculpture, jewelry, photography, you name it, I want to feature it.

  “Here in our podunk beach town?”

  “Yep. I want to bring a little bit of European charm here. It’ll work. Promise.” He rubs his hand at the back of his neck. “I’m already working on getting a little cafe opened down there too. It’ll be a whole experience. We’ve got a great historic downtown.”

  “So you’re here to stay. And this is your actual apartment?”

  His brow furrows. “Did you think I was just blowing through town?”

  “Yeah, kinda.”

  We finish eating while he tells me about the layout of the gallery and his vision for it.

  I’m only half listening. Not because I’m not interested, I am. I’m already thinking of how the school could have field trips there and maybe featured artists could come and talk to my class. But mostly I’m trying to figure out what to do about tonight. I came here with the intention of sleeping with him. But I’d planned on something brief. Something too fast for me to develop feelings because the last time I fell for a guy he broke my heart. And I know that Brock could do way more damage.

  “Do you want more wine?” he asks.

  I nod and he fills my glass with the golden-colored wine. “This is really delicious.”

  “Dessert? I didn’t make anything, but I’ve got some gelato we could share.”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “Hey, are you nervous? It’s just me.” He twirls one of my curls around his finger. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I just wanted to spend some more time with you.”

  But I do want to do all the things. I totally do. So I stop thinking so hard and just pull him to me. Our lips meet and he tastes like wine and promises.

  “Just so you know,” he says, pulling away from our kiss. “I do want you. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since our kiss this morning.”

  “I want you too.”

  “Thank fuck.” He pulls me to my feet and kisses me again. His tongue delves into my mouth as he walks me backwards across his apartment. He spins us, then I’m pulled across his lap, straddling his thick thighs. His hands move up the sides of my torso until his thumbs are resting just below my breasts. I’m dying for him to touch them. My nipples might poke through the dress if he doesn’t do it soon. But he’s in no hurry, just keeps kissing me.

  “You’re a really good kisser,” I tell him, when his mouth leaves mine to trail his tongue down my throat. Goosebumps scatter across my skin.

  “So are you.”

  I grip his shoulders, they’re so firm, like muscles on top of muscles.

  “I want to touch you everywhere. See you,” he murmurs into my throat. “Stand up, Ginger.”

  I do as he instructs and I slip off my black ballet flats and kick them somewhere behind me.

  He’s sitting on the foot of his bed watching me. His mossy green eyes are so heated as they track my body. “Take off your dress.”

  I reach behind me and unhook the halter, then shimmy out of the dress until I’m there in my black strapless bra and matching black underwear. They’re not sexy lingerie. I’ve had no reason to buy such things, but they’re better than basic white cotton.

  “Come here.” He holds a hand out to me and I pad to him.

  “Take off your shirt now,” I tell him.

  And he does and my mouth falls open. Watching him across the beach earlier today didn’t do him justice. He was too far away to truly appreciate. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a chest like that in real life. In movies. On Jason Momoa and Ryan Reynolds, but on a real man? Nope. Especially not one I’m currently standing in front of wearing nothing but my undies.

  “Bra.” He nods to the offensive garment. “Off.”

  I smile because I just can’t help it. “You’re kinda bossy.”

  He looks up at me and cocks one eyebrow. “I just know what I want. And I want to see you. All of you.”

  I take a deep breath. He wouldn’t have invited me here and cooked for me if he wasn’t really attracted to me. I can do this. I close my eyes and reach behind me and flick off the hooks. The bra falls to my feet. Then I’m stepping out of my panties until I’m just standing in front of him bare as the day I was born.

  “Goddamn, Ginger,” he says with that rough voice made of sex and melted chocolate.

  But that makes me open my eyes. I try to cover myself, but he grabs my arms and holds them above my head with one hand. His eyes have turned a darker shade and I realize that he is way turned on.

  “Your curves are...fuck.” He scrapes his hand over his face, then licks his lips.

  His reaction seems good, but I’m a little confused. “Is that a good thing?”

  “Yeah, baby, it’s a very good thing.” He pulls me forward so I’m standing between his legs and his hands grip my ass. “I love how you look.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he’s a chubby chaser, because I know I’m not thin. Thankfully I keep my mouth shut. Because what the hell, Ginger? Then his mouth is on my nipple and my brain is no longer forming coherent thoughts. I grip his shoulders and his skin is so hot. He’s moving from one breast to the other and I’m pretty sure I’m dripping wet. I’m so turned on.

  He pulls me down so I’m straddled across his lap, and he kisses me. His kisses are so hot I might climax just from his mouth on mine. I’m moaning and writhing on his lap and his hands are in my hair and he’s kissing me as if we have all the time in the world.

  Then he stands, holding me, turns and drops me on the bed. I bounce once, then lie still, eyeing him, waiting for what comes next. He lies down on top of me and kisses me again, then he moves his mouth down to my neck, nibbles and licks and bites.

  Does the same treatment to both breasts for a while, then continues his path downward. It takes me a minute to realize what he’s doing and my eyes pop open. I can almost hear tires squealing in my brain.

  “No, no, we can just do the regular stuff,” I say shoving at his face that’s getting lower and lower on my body.

  He looks up at me and quirks an eyebrow. “This is regular.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think I like that.”

  Now both eyebrows rise. “That either means that no one has ever done it right on you or no one has done it at all. Which is it?”

  I bite down on my lip and look away from him, considering how to answer that question.

  “So that would mean none at all. Why kind of jackasses have you been dating?” He places a kiss right on my inner thigh.

  “Just the one.” And then I wince. Why don’t I have a filter that prevents me from admitting stuff like that?

  “Dumbass Jeff from college?”

  “Right.”

  “He never went down on you?” he asks then nibbl
es on the skin below my belly button. The fleshy part that no amount of crunches or ab workouts have ever slimmed down. Awesome.

  I shove at his head again. “No, he didn’t.”

  “Did you ever go down on him?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “But he never reciprocated.”

  It’s not a question, but I nod anyways.

  “Stupid fucker,” he says with a chuckle and the warm breath skittering over my mound is turning me on even more. “I’m going to really enjoy this.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Have to? No, baby, I want to. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

  Again he presses more kisses to the general area. He hasn’t yet touched between my legs. He’s teasing me, I realize. But this is a whole different kind of teasing, one I definitely like.

  “Why do you think I always called you ‘Gingerbread?’” he asks.

  I frown. “Because I’m shaped like a loaf of bread?”

  He face-plants onto my mound and laughs.

  Not exactly how I thought this would go, but I can’t deny it, his humor is making me smile. “What is so funny?”

  “You. You’re hilarious.” This his face gets a little more serious. “I called you Gingerbread because you are so sweet. But also because you are good enough to eat.”

  And with that all humor disappears because he spreads my legs and licks me from slit to clit.

  “Oh fuck,” I whisper. His wet tongue feels so different than anything else. No fingers or vibrators can compare to the slick caress of his tongue against me. I’m going to come in like two point five seconds and I don’t even care. It’s so good. “So good,” I say aloud.

  His fingertips dig into my thighs and he moves to the sensitive spot right at the entrance of my pussy. “Oh yeah, Ginger, I knew you’d be delicious,” he murmurs. Then he moves one of his hands to my center and uses one, then two, fingers to penetrate me. Those digits curl upward and find the spot I’ve only ever been able to find with a specially designed G-spot sex toy.

  He rubs against that magic place and then sucks my clit into his mouth and I am one hundred percent riding his face at this point. I’ve lost all measure of anxiety and I’m chasing that orgasm as if my very life depends on it.

  “Come all over my face, baby,” he tells me. Two swirls of his tongue around my clit and the orgasm bursts through me. The pleasure radiates from my center through all other parts of my body making it feel like even my brain has the tingles.

  Then I’m spent and lying boneless on his bed.

  “I think I’m dead.”

  He chuckles, then places a few lazy kisses across my stomach as he crawls back up my body. “I sure hope not. I have more plans for you.”

  I crack one eye at him. “I don’t think I can do anymore.” I spread my legs and arms open. “Take your pleasure, Brock. I am done for.”

  “You are ridiculous.” He kisses one breast. “And adorable.” The other breast. “So fucking sexy.” He sucks a nipple into his mouth and I arch into him, surprised my body is feeling the stirrings of desire again.

  “I’ve never had multiples,” I admit. Then I smack my hand over my face, and whisper between my fingers. “I don’t know why I just said that.”

  “Sounds like a challenge issued, and I accept.” He leans over me toward the nightstand drawer and withdraws a box of condoms. An unopened box, I notice. He tears it open, grabs a foil package, then opens that with the aid of his teeth. Then he’s rolling it down his dick.

  “Um, I hate to be all cliched here and be the fainting virgin, but we have considerable size differences, you and me and that is pretty damn big.” I point to his erection.

  He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Are you trying to flatter me?”

  “Not really, I’m panicking a little.”

  “Baby,” his eyes go all tender again. “I’m not going to hurt you. Promise. I’ll go slow and I’ll stop if you tell me to stop.”

  I nod and he kisses me and he’s such a good kisser that I don’t even care that he tastes like me. He moves on top of me, slicking his erection through my folds, lubricating himself and building me back up. Then he’s pushing inside me and it doesn’t exactly hurt, but he is definitely bigger than I’ve ever had. When he’s finally all the way in, he looks down at me.

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s good. I just feel really full.”

  He moans. “You feel amazing.” He looks down at me, our eyes linked and the intimacy nearly steals my breath. “Stay with me, baby. Keep your eyes on me.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m gonna move now, but you tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

  I nod.

  And he moves and I’m pretty sure the world shifts on its axis. Holy hell. I just thought I’d had sex before. I never questioned Jeff’s equipment, he seemed normal to me, but this, this is next level stuff.

  “So damn tight, baby. Your pussy is squeezing me so good. Like you were made just for me.”

  Brock is staring into my eyes while he pumps into me and my climax is building at a rapid rate. Oh fuck, I’m going to come again.

  He smiles. Evidently I said that last part out loud.

  “You come as many times as you need to,” he says. Then he kisses me. He groans into my mouth.

  His cock is pressing me in all the right places and his pubic bone is rubbing just right on my clit and then I’m coming. But his kiss swallows my cries.

  He’s not done though. He’s still fucking me. His beautiful eyes are locked on mine and it feels like this is something big. Like he could be everything to me. I’m definitely in danger of losing my heart to this man. The man I thought I knew. The one I’d dreaded seeing again.

  “You still with me, baby?” he mutters.

  “Yeah, I’m here.” I wrap my legs tighter around him and doing that pushes him in the perfect position and the orgasm that rips through me surprises the hell out of me.

  “Of fuck, Ginger,” he says. His stomach tightens against me and his breathing increases. “You’re squeezing me so good. YES!” And then he’s coming too, emptying himself into the condom.

  Brock

  I pull her close to me, her curves molding perfectly to my body. I could definitely get used to this. To her.

  “What was your favorite part about being in Europe?” she asks.

  I think again about all those postcards I still have. All addressed and stamped, telling her about the architecture and museums, or how the beaches were different. But those are in a box under the bed and I’m not ready to share them with her.

  “Being able to see so much of the world in one small area. The countries are small. Not like Texas where it takes you all day to drive from one side to the other. There you can drive from Frankfurt to Venice in the same time it takes to go from Austin to El Paso. That and all the history. There’s history everywhere. Not just in the museums, but on the streets. The actual streets in some cases are still made of stone. I loved all the history.”

  “I never would have pegged you for a history nerd,” she says and I can hear the smile in her voice even though she’s facing away from me. “I was surprised when your mom said that’s what you were studying.”

  “Yeah, well, it wasn’t really something I advertised in high school. I got good grades, but never really talked about my interests with the football team or whatever.”

  “Or your cheerleader girlfriend,” she adds.

  “Definitely not. We never had any important conversations. It didn’t take me long to figure out that we had nothing in common.”

  We’re quiet for a while. And it’s a comfortable silence I don’t feel urged to fill with nonsense. My hand rubs up and down on her hip and thigh. Her skin is so soft. As is her hair, which is piled up above our heads like a red tangle of silk.

  “I really am sorry about how I treated you in high school. I wish I had an excuse or a reason. I just—”

  She puts her hand on mine and
squeezes. “We both screwed up. Don’t worry about it. Just be nice to me from now on.”

  “I promise.” I kiss her shoulder. I feel compelled to tell her in some way that she’s always been important to me. “Do you remember when my grandpa died?”

  “Yeah, we were...what, juniors that year?”

  “I think so. We hadn’t talked much or hung out at all that year, but you left that jar of shells on my porch with a note telling me how sorry you were that he died.”

  She sucks in a breath. “I’d forgotten about that. I really liked your grandpa. I know I only met him a few times, but he had the best stories.”

  “He did. He was great. Left me the money to do all of this even after paying for college.” I’m quiet for a moment and then I tell her. “I still have them. The shells. They’ve moved with me all over. Every new place I went in Europe, they were with me. You were with me.”

  She pulls my arm over her, between her breasts and brings my hand to her mouth for a kiss. “That’s very sweet.”

  “You’re very sweet.”

  Chapter 6

  Brock

  I wake up and stretch realizing that I slept better last night than I have in a very long time. I’d been attributing my insomnia to long-term jet lag, but now I’m not so sure. It takes me a minute to realize what woke me up though: there’s a repetitive knocking coming from somewhere. I sit up and glance at the empty side of the bed next to me. Ginger.

  Maybe she left, but then came back because she forgot something. Or went to get us breakfast.

  I wrap myself in a towel, and then pad to the door, swinging it open with a smile. “Did you forget something?” But my smile disappears when I see who’s standing on the other side. “What are you doing here, Chelsea?”

  “Were you even going to call me and let me know you were back in town?” The tall blonde pushes past me and steps into my apartment.

  “No, I wasn’t really planning on it.” She looks exactly the same and I realize she’s the equivalent to an empty vase – pretty on the outside, useful for decoration, but not much more.