Two Bad Bosses_An MFM Menage Romance

by Sierra Sparks

  “Yeah, it’s nice. I guess I’ve never really look at it though.” Since moving in, I haven’t spent too much time gazing at my view. It became a part of my everyday background and faded away. But seeing how amazed Zara is by it, I can appreciate it again.

  “You should. It’s beautiful.” She places a hand on the glass, spreading her fingers slightly. The way she looks right now, I really want to kiss her again. She was eager last time and I hope she’d be eager the second time. I’d pick her up and put her back against the glass. With that memory, I’d never forget to appreciate this view again.

  Zara’s head turns to me and it snaps me out of my fantasy. “We should probably get baking.” I think something akin to disappointment passes over her face, but it’s quickly gone.

  “Okay.” We go back to the kitchen and Zara suggests that I try a cake tonight. “It doesn’t have to be anything too intense, but we should do tiers. At least two.” A cake. I remember my first attempt. It didn’t end go so well, but if I could cupcakes, maybe I can do a full cake.

  “Yeah. If you think I’m ready. I mean it sounds like a lot of… work.” I don’t want to sound like I’m not ready to put in the work, it’s more like I’m intimidated by it. This week has been me trying a bunch of things I have zero expertise in.”

  “If you try, I know you can do it.”

  “Okay.” I can’t help but believe, so I move on. “What kind of cake would we make?” This question gets her excited and she starts listing all different kinds of cakes. I can tell that this is what she’s passionate about and that she’s given it a lot of thought.

  A lot of the cakes she suggests seem a little complicated. I don’t want to take on too much and completely fail. Learning how make a tiered cake is what I’d like to do tonight. Then maybe next time I can do fancy flavor things.

  Zara gets to something that sounds somewhat doable and I ask her about it. “Wait, I think that one could work. The strawberry cake?”

  “Do you have strawberries?”

  “I do.” I open up my fridge and take out all the cartons I have. I’m a big fruit guy, so I always have a bunch in stock. “Is this enough?”

  “Yeah, more than. The strawberry cake is similar to the vanilla one, but there are key differences. Pay attention to what we do differently and how it affects the taste. This way you can learn how to maybe craft your own original recipe one day.” The way she talks to me really helps with how I receive her instructions. It never feels condescending and I can tell that she cares about me learning which makes me want to impress her.

  We get down to business, each of us making our own batter. I follow by watching her. She goes slowly, explaining each step and why we’re doing it. I can tell mine’s a little different, but I’m starting to get the hang of all of it. She shows me how to pour it into the cake tin.

  “We don’t want to fill the tin entirely because it’ll take too long to bake, burning the top, or if you take it out when it’s golden brown, you’ll end up with uncooked batter.” It’s turned out we made enough batter for three tins and place them in the oven. We spend the time waiting for the cake to bake, talking. She tells me about the bakery she owns in upstate New York, Baker’s Corner, but there’s definitely stuff she’s not telling me. I don’t want to force her to reveal her entire life story to me. I’m sure not ready to tell her mine.

  After about an hour, the cake is done and we have to let it cool before frosting. The time to cool is considerably less and soon the two of us are making homemade frosting.

  “It’s a buttercream. We’re going to do vanilla because it’s simple and lucky for us, it goes with strawberries.” Once again, we each have our own mixing bowl and I follow Zara’s instructions. We build the cake together, Zara giving tips on how to insure structural integrity and the best ways to get an aesthetically pleasing frost. In the end, it doesn’t look half bad and Zara cuts us each a slice, having us eat with our hands.

  “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  “See. You’re getting the hang of it. This is a piece of the tier you made. You should believe in yourself more.” She’s right. I should have a little more confidence in myself. It’s weird to think of me as being underconfident because, so far in my life, I’ve navigated it with such self-assurance. But ever since my Dad died, I haven’t been so sure. I’m not sure of my place in my own family and because of this, I’ve begun to doubt the way I’ve lived my entire life. And with the speech my Mom gave me – it hasn’t gotten any better. I must be a lot more self-conscious than I originally thought.

  “I’ll try. It helps that you have so much faith in me.” Zara’s eyes shy away from mine.

  “Any time, Sam.” The night could stop here, but I don’t want it to. It’s getting pretty late. The two of us look over at the microwave clock and it’s midnight. Our eyes return to one another. We know it’s late, so, I ask,

  “Do you have any plans, Zara?” I love the way her face shifts when I say her name, especially when I’m very pointed about it. She shakes her head, replying,

  “No. I don’t really no anyone in the city. I’ve met some nice people, but I haven’t made it a point to call them. Except for Ruby, but she’s not returning any of my calls.” Her brow furrows, obviously unhappy with Ruby’s lack of communication.

  “I’m sorry about that.” And I say it because I really mean it. When we spoke at the wedding, she seemed pretty excited to start working for Ruby. I wonder what’s going on with that woman. She must be insane not to hire a talent like Zara.

  “It’s no big thing. At least I have this job, helping you.” Something in her seems muted. I motion to the barstool by the counter.

  “Why don’t you take a seat. I’ll get us something to drink.” Zara perches herself on the stool while I get two glasses and the wine I picked out earlier today. I’d hoped we would get to this point. I sit at the stool near Zara’s and pour each of us a glass. I start drinking mine immediately, but Zara fingertips rub against the stem. She slowly brings it up to her lips and takes a sip. Her eyes widen and her next sip is a little longer. I’m pleased she likes it so much. I love watching everything she does. I’ve never been so taken by a woman and so quickly. She’s absolutely beautiful. What could I possibly want from her? This doesn’t feel like my usual thing, so that must mean that I want something above and beyond from… my usual thing. But do I really want to go for it? For tonight, I definitely went her in my bed. The two of us tangled up in one another. So, that’s what I’ll do – concern myself with the now… for now.

  Chapter Twelve: Zara

  The baking has ended for tonight and Sam and I are drinking this delicious wine. I know he wants something from me, but I don’t know whether I’m ready to give it to him. The kiss we shared a couple of nights ago was… something else. He was so gentle at first, softly placing a few fingers under my chin and angling my face towards his. He made sure to move slowly, giving me a chance to exit out of the contact. But I didn’t want to. I wanted him to touch me and never stop touching me.

  When our lips met, I almost pulled away. The sensation was overwhelming and I wanted to exit the interaction. My body was just so on edge. How could one guy make me feel that way? I know I haven’t been with that many men, but – I don’t know. It was weird feeling like that all of a sudden. It wasn’t typical to react to someone like this and so soon. My first thought was what gave him the right to make me feel this way. Then I realized it wasn’t his fault. My body was doing all the tingly stuff. He couldn’t force me to be attracted to him. I wanted him and I needed to come terms with that.

  When he felt my hesitancy, he tried to move away, but I grabbed his shirt and pulled him into me. When our bodies were flush, I could feel his erection under his pants and it felt… big. Thinking about it makes me shiver because that could be… inside me. I had that thought so many times. Each time, I wanted to crawl into a ball. I don’t even know him. All I have are three nights of baking and the wedding. I know I sai
d I wouldn’t bother with what Ruby said, but that doesn’t mean I kept to it. I’ve thought about what a player he is. I’ve never thought of myself as someone to casually sleep with someone, but maybe I could with Sam. If he didn’t want anything more, I could be okay with – if it gave me one night with him. I don’t want his lack of desire for a relationship keep me from enjoying an experience – an experience I could remember for the rest of my life. So, I will. I won’t let my usual rules apply. Not here.

  I’ve been sipping on this wine for some time now and I think it’s starting to get to me. At the very least I am way more giggly than usual. I sound like a fucking school girl. I should be embarrassed, but the wine took care of that, too.

  “Are you okay, Zara? I laugh at his question because I don’t know if I am. Not because of the alcohol – though it is contributing to my looseness. It’s more that all my ideas about myself have been going out the window – and not just this whole business with being okay with a potential one-night stand with Sam. This Ruby thing has me frazzled. I spent four weeks wandering the city and just when I thought I had gotten a job, I’m ghosted. I know Sam had saved the day with these baking lessons, but I still feel like shit because of all the other rejections.

  “I’m fine. I’m just not used to drinking wine.” I take another sip, craving its borderline sickly sweetness in my throat. I beginning to realize I have a deep craving for validation and this month in the city has shown me what it’s like to not have consistent reassurances. I’m relying on myself more than I ever have and it’s testing my resolve. Some sex would distract me, though.

  I finish my glass, expecting Sam to top me off, but he doesn’t. I guess I’m cut off. Which is probably for the best. I don’t want to get drunk.

  “Are you sure you’re fine?” He asks again. I take a deep breath and shrug.

  “Generally? Who knows. But if you’re asking if I’m drunk – I’m not. I’m just laughing a little more.” He nods and puts both of our glasses off to the side. He leans in, his body heat starting to enter my zone.

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” There are a lot of things I want to tell him. Things I want him to do to me, but my voice doesn’t want to come out and say it.

  “No,” I whisper. His face darkens and I know we’re entering slippery territory. My legs come together, arousal pooling at my center.

  “There’s something I want to tell you.” I swallow, the lump in my throat not quite budging. It’s not that I can’t speak, but it’s just certain phrases don’t want to make it out of my throat.

  “What?” I keep the low volume, not wanting to break whatever spell we’re currently in.

  “I want you.” He says with such minimal flare that it almost goes over my head. He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. What I need is – I need for him to finish that sentence because, to me, it could use a little more on the end.

  “You want me to what?” He seems surprised by my question, but takes it all in stride. He leans back and looks at me. Something shifts between us. There’s still the thick sexual tension, but now something extra has been thrown in. I can’t quite identify it now, but it feels positive.

  “I want you to come to my bedroom.” There are a few ways to read that request, but the intention is hard to miss. The question I’ve been asking myself since we met has been answered. He wants me. It became clearer after our kiss, but there was still that voice trying to be dismissive. But now, his words ring clear. I can’t hide behind my own doubt. I said I wanted him and now that he’s within reach – it’s time to make the grab.

  I get off the stool and approach Sam. His legs are open, so I stand between them, bring my face close to his. I try and gauge his reaction, but he keeps stoic, so I make my move, angling myself to be able to kiss him. I keep it soft, wanting to see how much of him I can feel without diving too deep. Sam mimics my pace, his mouth staying with mine I bring my hand to the back of his neck, threading my fingers in his hair, but not pulling.

  I move my head back to look at him and his previously stoic expression moves to one of satisfaction.

  “I’ll take that as a yes?”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, you want to go to my bedroom with me?” I nod and Sam finally stands. But his next move catches me by surprise. His arms go to pick me up and when my legs leave the ground, I reflexively wrap around his neck. He smiles and kisses my forehead before heading deeper into his apartment. I tighten my grip, bringing my head close to Sam’s neck. I’m not worried he’s going to drop me. His arms have a steady hold on my body. No one has carried me like this – minus my mother when I was a child. I feel secure in his arms.

  We get to his door and he asks me to open it. I take one hand from him and use it to turn the knob. Sam uses his foot to kick it open and we step instead. His room is just as meticulously decorated as the rest of the house. I wouldn’t call it an egregious display of wealth, but it’s easy to tell money was spent – and a good amount of it.

  Once we’re inside, I’m put back on my feet and Sam closes the door behind us. I can’t believe he has so much space. I know I’ve only been in the city a short time – and I haven’t gone out much – but I’m getting used to some of the norms. Like the love-hate feelings for the subway and paying a bunch of money for a tiny amount of space.

  His bed is in the middle of the room and it’s large. Much too big for one person. Sam is still behind me, but he’s moved much closer. He’s not yet touching me, but I can feel his presence. I turn around so we’re face-to-face. I put my hands on his chest, laying them flat. I can feel his chest moving, his heart breathing underneath.

  I maintain my quiet, bringing my hands down to the hem of his shirt. His eyes go from my face to where my hands are. I sneak them under his sweater, feeling the hard muscle underneath. His body hums as I snake my hands higher, moving up his body until my arm is all the way in.

  “Do you like me?” I’m not sure how deep his question runs. I don’t want to create a situation that I can’t escape from, so I keep my answers in the here and now.

  “I like the way you feel.” Sam takes his shirt off, getting rid of that barrier between us. I inhale sharply, enjoying the sight of his naked skin. I bring my lips to the center, gently kissing the soft surface. An arm is wrapped around me before creeping up my back and digging into the hair at the nape of my neck. As his fingers bite down with more intensity, I open my mouth and scrape my teeth against him. Violently, my head is pulled back, so I’m back to looking into his eyes. They’re hungry and I want to feed that craving deep inside of him… deep inside of us.

  “Is this what you want?” I bite my bottom lip and whisper and soft,

  “Yes,” before his face descends on mine, bring my lips into a passionate kiss. It’s different from the ones before. Our first kiss was a question, asking about our feelings towards one another. Our second kiss was hesitant, solidifying the attraction we feel towards one another. And this kiss – this kiss is a promise. It’s telling me what Sam intends to do with my body. How he’s going to make me feel. The pressure is high, the feeling going all the way down to my toes. My hands have nothing to grab at, so I keep them planted on his chest. The hand in my hair, tightens, causing me to quietly gasp as he opens my mouth – our tongues dancing together.

  My hands can no longer stay still and I bring them back down until I’ve reached the hem of his pants. I could feel the bulge in his pants growing, but this time I’d get to play. Without breaking contact, I unbutton his pants, slipping my hand inside. My fingers graze his erection and a low growl emanates from the base of Sam’s throat. Once again, he pulls my head back, but I don’t stop rubbing his shaft. He brings his bottom lip under his teeth slightly, his face tensing. His mouth hangs open as I move my hand a little faster, but he grabs my wrist, making me stop.

  “Let me touch you.” It’s almost a question, but there’s a hint of command hiding behind. Either way, the only answer I would give is yes because
I desperately I want him to place his hands all over my body. I nod and his hands exit my hair. I take a few steps back, wondering what I should do. I make an instant decision to take off my clothes and before he can stop me, I’ve thrown my shirt on the ground. Sadly, I didn’t wear a sexy bra, just an everyday black one. I’m about to unsnap it, but Sam tells me to, “Wait.” It’s not any louder than when he spoke before, but it feels more commanding. I drop my hands while he approaches me. Once again, we’re toe to toe and, this time, his hand comes up to my neck. His fingers graze the base before slowly going down to the top of my breasts. He follows the line of my bra and then goes back up, the second time around, gently wrapping his fingers around my neck. I swallow the lump in my throat finally going away.

  “Are you going to touch me anywhere else?” I posit it as a challenge, wanting to see exactly how he responds. Instead of answering, his hand goes back down my body, ending at my leggings. His eyes never leaving mine, he slips his hand inside, past my panties. Cupping me, he comments,

  “You’re already wet.” My cheeks blaze, embarrassed that I can’t hide my eagerness. All of a sudden, his other hand wraps around me, pushing my body into his. I bring my hands to keep from falling forward, but when his fingers hooks into my entrance, the only thing holding me up is Sam. His swirls around inside me, causing my muscles to clamp down. I let out a high-pitched gasp, caught off-guard by how amazing it feels with only one finger. I can’t even begin to imagine more.