Hard Pressed

by Kate Canterbary

  When the lights flipped on inside the shop, I parked myself near the door to catch her attention. But she spotted me long before she reached the door, pausing in the middle of the sales floor. Today's sundress was long and white with thin black stripes rounding the bottom of her skirt. No ankles to be seen but it was angelic and sexy as hell, all at once.

  She shook her head at me but couldn't fight off a smile.

  I could work with that—slightly exasperated but generally pleased to see me.

  Rapping my knuckles against the glass, I called, "Open up. I brought breakfast." I held up the cup carrier and pink bakery box as evidence. "Can't eat these by myself. It's a bad stereotype waiting to happen."

  At that, she started toward me. Once the storefront window lights flicked on, the lock unbolted, and the sign turned over, she pulled the door open. The chimes tinkled overhead and I tightened my hold on the breakfast goods. It was that or risk dropping them while I dragged her into my arms because these past days and nights without her were a special brand of agony.

  "Good morning," she said, stepping aside to let me in. "This is a surprise."

  "A good surprise," I said, moving toward her. "Right?"

  "Good, yeah," she said. It sounded like a concession. "It's also an awkward surprise."

  "How so?" I asked. I was undeterred. Nothing she had to say was slowing me down.

  "Come with me," she ordered.

  "With pleasure." I trailed after Annette, captivated by the sway of her full hips. I was a slave for this woman and she didn't even know it. It didn't compute that I'd followed her into the storeroom until she plucked the coffees from my hand.

  "Thanks for this," she murmured, taking a sip of cold brew.

  I ran my hand down her back, starved for the feel of her. "I wasn't sure how you liked your coffee," I confessed. "But I asked around. Found out you like it cold and sweet."

  Annette glanced up at me, her eyes the same shade as the beverage in her hand. "You asked around?"

  "I did," I said, bobbing my head as I stroked her back. I didn't want to stop touching her. Not today, not ever. "Found out you like old-fashioned cake donuts, too. Chocolate."

  "Dust ruffles," she murmured.

  "No dust ruffles," I insisted. "You must think I'm pretty bad at my job if I can't query a local merchant without powering up the rumor mill."

  Annette sipped her coffee, her eyebrow arched especially for me. "That is not my suggestion, no," she said. "You might know your detective work but I know this town, and I know everyone and their auntie will be in here this afternoon looking for juicy bits."

  "Lucky for you, I picked up coffee and donuts for most of the shopkeepers on Main Street. Everyone and their aunties will have several stops on the juicy bits tour today." She rolled her eyes but she smiled while doing it. "Just doin' my part to keep the local economy chugging along, ma'am."

  "Appreciated." Annette set the coffee down and turned toward the small refrigerator tucked into the back corner. "Seems like we've both put a lot of effort into donuts."

  She returned, handing me another one of her Pyrex containers. I pulled the top off and stared at the powdered sugar lumps. "And these are…?"

  "My awkward donut holes," she replied, pinching one between her fingers. Raspberry jam dribbled out. Some very primitive corner of my mind found that arousing. I didn't want to understand it. "My kitchen is too small for a full-scale donut operation so I went with the holes instead. I could make regular donuts but I'd have to fry them one by one and that would take hours. It's a new dough for me, a sweet brioche. I hope they came out well."

  Annette held the not-quite-round ball to my lips and I accepted, gripping her wrist to lick her fingers clean in the process. "Delicious," I murmured. "But I have one question for you."

  She watched as I sucked on her index finger, her eyes hooded, lips parted. "Anything," she whispered.

  "Is this awkward because we both brought donuts or because you made them for me and I trampled all over that by showing up here with your favorite old-fashioneds?"

  She blinked up at me as pink dashed across her cheeks. "I wanted to work on making a good brioche," she said, a touch of defensiveness in her tone. I sucked harder. "A-a-a-and I thought you might like them. I-I knew you'd like them."

  "That's right, beautiful. You know what I like," I replied. "Another question."

  "I only agreed to one," Annette argued.

  "I'm asking anyway," I said, lashing an arm around her waist. God, she smelled good. "If I hadn't come here this morning, were you going to walk yourself over to the station?"

  "Maybe," she replied with a shaky breath. "I might've fed the firefighters instead."

  "Evil, evil woman," I whispered. I took the dish from her hand and set it on the nearest surface. "You wouldn't do that, not even to spite me."

  "You don't know that," she said, shrugging. "For all you know, I like making you suffer."

  "Oh, I'm well aware of that fact, beautiful." With both hands on her waist, I picked her up and set her on the table. "What do you think I've been doing the past two nights?"

  "Reading that book you've had on your nightstand for months?" she quipped.

  I pushed her legs apart and stepped between them. "Yes, that's exactly it," I replied. "Unfortunately, it's been a worthless distraction."

  Annette's hands skimmed up my chest and over my shoulders. "Sounds like you need to get between some different pages."

  I leaned down, my lips a breath away from hers. "Sounds like I need to get some fuck-hot ankles between my sheets."

  "Just the ankles?" she asked, shooting me a sharp glance. "Are you sure you're not some kind of serial killer posing as a small town sheriff? Seems like a good cover."

  "Not a cover. Not a serial killer. Not just the ankles," I said, kissing the corner of her mouth between each statement. "I want the whole package and the peach down your dress, too. Hell, Annie, I want it so much. I just need you to want it, too."

  "I made you donut holes." She inched closer, nipping at my bottom lip. "That has to count for something."

  I covered her lips with mine, sighing into her as she opened for me. My tongue stroked over hers, tasting coffee and sweetness. I'd planned on coffee and conversation, but Annette annihilated my best intentions. She always did, and I was the fool who still hadn't learned my lesson.

  "It counts," I said against her lips. "It would count for more if you admitted you were walking your fine ass to the station and feeding me these donut holes in the privacy of my office."

  Annette paused for a moment, blinking at my neck. Then, she said, "Yeah, I was bringing them over."

  I could see her there, sitting on my desk with her legs spread while she hand-feeding me her best creations. Then I'd lay her back on the hard surface and taste her sweetness until she was shaking and writhing. I'd take her right there on my desk and let her scream down the walls. No one would doubt what was happening and no one would doubt she was mine.

  "Now, admit you wore this dress because it is the most unholy piece of clothing in your closet and you like making me jizz in my pants."

  Her palm shifted to my crotch and she stroked me over my trousers. We could talk later. We had all the time in the world so long as she kept touching me. I wasn't much for conversation before noon anyway. I bucked into her hand, every inch of my body tightening as my head fell back on my shoulders and I let loose a growl too animalistic to be human.

  I wasn't the kind of man who lost control. I didn't lose my temper or find myself at the end of my rope too often. I worked hard to keep a cool head. But a few minutes with Annette canceled it all out. I was ready to riot if it meant getting my hands on her.

  "I knew you'd like it," she purred. "You love it when I wear white. That, and no one will notice the powdered sugar all over me."

  "The last time you wore white, you didn't let me admire you for long," I said. "Not that I minded you getting naked at my house. If you recall, I've been inviting you to do t
hat again."

  "Ah, yes," she said, sighing. "You should know I've had some rough nights as well. I've had a lot on my mind."

  "I want to hear all about that." I growled into her neck, still rocking into the heaven that was her hand on my dick.

  She laughed at that, the vibrations moving through her body and into mine like an electric shock. "Ah, but some things are best left unsaid."

  There were so many reasons to step back, straighten myself out, and return to the plan. Aside from the fact we were in a glorified closet, I came here to talk with Annette. I wanted to build a connection beyond our history of complicated interactions. I wanted to make it work with her.

  But my cock was a single-minded master and the cradle of her thighs felt like the only place I'd ever truly belonged.

  "Annie," I said, grunting as I pressed into her heat.

  "Yes, Jackson?"

  I pushed her skirt up to her waist and out of my way, and then dragged my hands up her thighs. With my fingers twined around either side of her panties, I asked, "Are you with me, beautiful?"

  The nod came first, then the words. "Yeah. Yes. I am," she whispered, her eyes dark and hungry.

  "All the way?" I continued. "We're doing this, you and me? You're not going to tell me you need time to figure things out and show me the door when we're finished?"

  Her shoulder jerked up. "That depends on how well you finish."

  "You don't have anything to worry about there," I murmured, tossing her undies to the floor and wrapping an arm under her backside. Her hands went to my belt while I tugged the top of her dress down to reveal her breasts. "I've been waiting to lick these tits for ages. They're like perfect cupcakes with cherries on top. Bet they taste like vanilla sugar, too."

  "You're ridiculous," Annette said, laughing.

  "Completely," I agreed. Goddamn. This woman was so much fun. "Since I have to concentrate on your tits, I'm gonna need you to get these pants off me before you cause another accident."

  "That wasn't my fault," she said. "Not entirely."

  She pushed my trousers down and curled her hand around my cock while I tongued her nipples. She tasted like all the things I loved about her. It wasn't a flavor, it was a feeling.

  I dropped kisses onto each of her breasts before working my way back to her lips. "There's a condom in my wallet. Grab that for me, beautiful."

  She reached into my back pocket and retrieved the billfold. Instead of going for the rubber and tossing everything else aside, she took a moment to study my driver's license and glance at the cards inside. All while her other hand stroked me to within an inch of sanity.

  "How long have you had this?" Annette asked, pinching the condom between two fingers. "I have an IUD but I like to cover all the bases."

  "It's new. You can check the expiration date," I said, the words turning into groans as her grip tightened. "With the exception of last week, I'm always prepared."

  "Are you always such a Boy Scout?" she quipped, tearing the packet open with her teeth.

  "Put the goddamn condom on me," I ordered, my jaw clenched. I couldn't take another minute of this hand job or her smart-ass comments. The combination was lethal. "Do it now, Annie." Her eyes widened, sparkling as if she enjoyed my rough tone. If that was the case, I had plenty more where that came from. "Now or I'm fucking you without it."

  She kept her gaze steady on me while she rolled the condom down. Once it was in place, we stared at each other, our lips no more than a breath apart. She gave me the tiniest of nods and I pushed inside her.

  The first moment was heaven. Annette cried out, I buried a groan-turned-growl in her neck. She rocked into me, I nearly blew it all right then. It was so good, terrifyingly good. Good because she felt like absolute perfection but terrifying because I knew I was a goner for this girl. I was gone when I started lusting over her ankles but this was some higher-level cosmic soul mate shit.

  "Keep yourself still, beautiful," I barked, my hand flat on her back.

  "Don't want to," she replied, her ankles locking at the base of my spine as her body rolled against mine. "Can't make me."

  I dragged in as much oxygen as I could but it wasn't enough. My body was diverting all resources toward moving in Annette and as long as I could do that, nothing else was necessary.

  "Yes, I fucking can," I snapped, sliding my fingers down the seam of her ass.

  She clawed at my back, her nails blunted by my shirt. I hated that shirt for existing. I wanted it gone. I wanted me and Annette, and a bed and all the time in the world, and I wanted everything else to go the hell away.

  I pressed two fingers to her ass. Her entire body shuddered against me. "See? I made you do that."

  I slammed into her like I was trying to prove a point. Maybe I was. Maybe I wanted her to know we were better together than either of us could've guessed.

  "Right there, right there, right there," she gasped.

  "If you'd stop squirming for a second, I'd get you right there," I said, squeezing the cheeks of her ass hard.

  "You love my squirming," she argued.

  She was right. I loved the way her compact body fit with mine and how her hips matched my rhythm without faltering. And now, with her thighs clenched around me and her hands fisted in my hair, I loved the way she clung to me while I fucked her mindlessly. I was coming apart piece by piece, splintering with her every whisper and plea.

  "Jackson," Annette cried out. "Jackson."

  Her lips found my neck and stayed there as I drove into her, too consumed by these sensations to respond with more than my body's instincts. Oh, this hurt. Everything ached, straight down to my bones. My body was fevered, my blood pounding in my veins. My muscles were pumping hard, pushing, pushing, pushing. Tightening as I held myself off, spasming as I surrendered to the pain. I couldn't hold on another minute without cracking right in half.

  The front door chimes sounded at the same moment I blasted into the condom, shooting hard enough that I wondered how it could stay intact. Annette pressed her palm to my mouth, muffling my roar. I went rigid, every last inch of me, as I emptied myself into her. It was like a dam bursting.

  "I'll be right with you," she called, running both hands through my hair. "Just give me a minute. Or five."

  The customer replied with some comment I couldn't hear over the fuzzy noise in my ears.

  When the last spurt pulsed through me, I laid Annette back on the table, dropped my head between her breasts, and closed my eyes. I needed to deal with this condom but I was sleepy-sated and didn't think I could peel myself from this heaven for anything. Not when I was still half hard inside her and thinking up ways we could make this table work for us one more time.

  I could pull that off. Bend her over, flip that skirt up, slap her ass, hold her down just the way she liked. Yeah, that would do just fine.

  "What are these little growls all about?" Annette asked, her fingers making magic on my scalp.

  "Thinking about fucking you on this table," I mumbled.

  "We just did that," she said.

  "Mmhmm. I want to do it again."

  She traced the tendons in the back of my neck, dissolving every ounce of tension stored there. "I like that idea."

  When I gathered my senses, I pushed up on an elbow and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Please tell me we have time for that. Also, I need you to tell me I imagined someone coming into the shop."

  "Nope, that really happened," she replied.

  I shook my head against her chest. "This wasn't what I had in mind when I came here this morning," I said, glancing at up her.

  "Are you sure about that?" Annette asked, her lips pursed in the best pout ever. Loved that pout.

  "Actually, yes," I replied. "But then I saw you in this white dress and you had little donuts for me, and I am powerless when it comes to you and your pastries."

  Her eyebrow arched up. "My baking isn't intended to turn you on."

  I gave her a quick shake of my head. "Neither are your ankles, beaut
iful. You just can't help it."

  13

  Proofing

  v. The period of time the dough must rest after dividing and rounding.

  Annette

  * * *

  Brooke: I was on the front porch just now, staring at the ocean and wondering how my life managed come apart at the seams like the last days of Rome, and who did I see sneaking out the back door of your shop but Sheriff Lau.

  Brooke: I have to assume he was leaving after a quick morning romp and I am impressed.

  Brooke: I have a multitude of questions but I am still impressed.

  Annette: Thank you.

  Annette: And your life hasn't fallen apart. You're doing awesome.

  Brooke: Don't distract me from the topic at hand but you're wrong, my life is a Shakespearean tragedy and I am never more than five minutes away from floating myself down a damn stream like Ophelia.

  Annette: Why don't we unpack that for a second?

  Brooke: No. No. I'd rather hear about your quickie, please. The thrill of your life is the only thing keeping me going.

  Annette: I'm still processing but here's what I know for sure. It didn't seem quick.

  Brooke: Ohhhhhh that's the best kind.

  Annette: It was incredible. I've never had sex like this before. I'm smiling like a lunatic and my belly feels like cotton candy.

  Brooke: Does this mean you've completely foreclosed the possibility of a sister-wife setup? If there were any two women who could make it work, it would be us.

  Annette: I love you but if you say that again, I'll tear your eyes out.

  Brooke: Fair enough.

  Brooke: When are you seeing him next?

  Annette: I'm not sure. He got a call and had to go check on something near the Nevilles' inn.

  Brooke: That place is fucking haunted.

  Annette: No disagreement here.

  Brooke: You didn't articulate next steps? Didn't establish expectations going forward? He just zipped up and zipped out?