Tart (The Fluffy Cupcake Book 2)

by Katie Mettner

  “I don’t mind,” he said patiently, stripping the Velcro off while I let my head fall back to the pillow slowly. He took my shoe off, and the brace stayed inside it when he set it next to the bed. “Better?” he asked, moving my shorts aside to check the skin. “It’s still red, baby,” he sighed, running his finger over it gently. “I’ll be right back.”

  While he was gone, I let my body sink into the soft, down mattress topper. The bed was easily a queen size, and much bigger than the one I had at my apartment. It was much easier to sink into, too. I was afraid I was going to like it too much by the time I moved back to my apartment. I decided tonight I’d enjoy a little bit of comfort for once in my life. Maybe I should enjoy Bishop, too. I wondered if what he said was true. That his soul had to see me again. It was a poignant thing to say, and my heart melted when he said it. I had to admit that I wanted to get to know him better, too. Even when I was in the middle of a terror episode during a storm, he calmed me. I hadn’t met anyone before who could do that.

  He came back in the door carrying a tray full of drinks and other various bottles. He set it on the nightstand and held up the Tylenol. I nodded eagerly, and he dumped two in my hand. I swallowed them with the glass of water he brought, and then he handed me a bottle of cold hard lemonade. “Not a lot of kick, but I figured with the meds you’re taking, you didn’t want anything too strong. It will take the edge off. So will this.” He sat next to me and pushed my sleep shorts up higher, his fingers trailing the inside of my thigh and making me suck in air, a skitter of pleasure flowing through me at the sensation.

  He unfurled something and rested it across my thigh and knee. It was cold and sent a shiver through me, but offered instant relief. I glanced down at it and then to his face. “What is it?”

  He grabbed a bottle of lemonade and crawled over me, sitting on the other side of the bed. “It’s an ice blanket. I found it online and ordered it. I thought it might help the pain more if you could ice the whole thing down at once. When you’re not using it, you can roll it up and leave it in the freezer.”

  “You thought to order me an ice pack?”

  He motioned at it. “Did I overstep?”

  I waved my hand and lowered my bottle from my lips. “Not at all, I’m just not used to other people wanting to take care of me. I know I live with my parents, but they’re pretty hands-off.”

  He cocked his head and let his hand rest on the ice pack. “I know you’re a grown woman, but I want to offer you whatever comfort I can. I want to stay hands-off, but you make that hard. My hands want to be on you, taking care of you, holding you, comforting you.”

  “Is that the dad in you or the teacher in you?” I asked, setting the empty bottle on the tray again.

  “Neither,” he whispered, his bottle forgotten as he stroked my hip. “It’s the man in me. The other two parts of me offer experience in how to treat an injury, but it’s the man in me who wants to take your pain away and offer you comfort for a few moments each day, at least until we can make you more comfortable for longer stretches.”

  I turned on my side halfway and tucked my hand behind his neck. “You’re so good at it that it scares me most of the time. I don’t want to admit how good you make me feel because then I have to explore what I’ve always believed about me, men, and my ability to make one happy.”

  The look he gave me was enough to make my panties wet if I had been wearing any. “You explore all you want, but I will say that you make me happy without even trying. Catching a glimpse of you while I’m in the yard, you oblivious to me, makes my heart race with happiness.”

  “Are you sure that’s not lust?” I asked, not even jokingly. “Mine does the same thing. I’m not kidding about the exploring part. I’m not super good at this stuff.”

  His head shook slightly, and he slid his hand up the inside of my leg to cup my thigh carefully. “I know the difference between lust and happiness. Lust is when my dick hardens at nothing more than a look from you. That’s all it takes, just a look that says you’re thinking about the same thing I am, and I’m instantly hard. Happiness is the rest of the day.”

  “The rest of the day?” I asked, confused.

  “The times you cross my mind and my lips tip up in a smile. When I think about dinner, and want it to be with you. When I’m setting up a fire, hoping you’ll see it and come over so I can spend time with you again. When I lay down at night after we’ve been together and smile because I know when I wake up, I’ll have another chance to see you again.”

  I nodded slowly, mostly because his hand on my leg was preventing me from thinking straight. “I see what you mean. I do the same thing, but I usually question and second guess every step of it until mostly the only thing I feel is scared.”

  He frowned and leaned down, his lips almost touching mine. “Then, my first goal in this marriage is to teach you the difference between happiness and fear. Are you going to be a good student and do your homework?” he asked, holding my gaze.

  I swallowed because suddenly, all I could think about was being hot for teacher. “I will,” I agreed, my lips aching for his.

  “Excellent. The first assignment is to kiss me, but instead of worrying about what anyone else will think, concentrate on how it makes you feel.”

  “That feels closer to the lust side than the happiness side,” I said, my lips almost touching his.

  “Mmm,” he hummed. “The extra credit is to tell me if a kiss can be both.”

  His lips crashed into mine then, and he held himself over me, his hands braced on the bed to keep from crushing me while his tongue swept inside my mouth. I grasped the back of his neck tightly and let him have his way with me until I needed air so desperately I was sure I would pass out. He sensed it and broke off the kiss, trailing his lips down my jaw to the crook of my neck, where he kissed and suckled the tender skin there. The sensation made me suck in a breath, and my hips thrust up off the bed into his leg that he’d braced between mine. He moaned, the sound ricocheting through my body to drag a moan from my own lips.

  I buried my hands in his hair and pulled him back to my lips, his pliable and swollen against mine. “God, Bishop, what is happening to us?” I asked around his lips as I felt his hardness against my hip. “I feel like I’m drowning in you.”

  He tightened his hold on me and rolled me over on top of him, his lips barely leaving mine. “You’re not,” he promised, caressing my cheek. “I’m your flotation device in this crazy life,” he whispered before his lips were back on mine.

  Our moans of pleasure filled the room, making me want nothing more than to strip us bare and finish what we started. I couldn’t do it, though. I couldn’t risk being blinded by the lust of a guy like Bishop. Eventually, we’d have to go our separate ways, and if I had found a lover and had to give him up, I would never be the same. All I could do tonight was offer him a token of appreciation for marrying me when he didn’t have to.

  His hard dick was trapped between us, and he thrust against my belly with needy desire. His basketball shorts couldn’t contain the length of him when he was hard, and he moaned when I pushed back against him. His hands tightened in my hair as I braced my right knee between his thighs and rubbed my belly up and down across his length. Every motion dragged a moan from him as he kissed me.

  “If you keep that up, I’m going to come,” he moaned, his lips in my neck now as I pushed upward again, his responding thrusts growing stronger with every passing second. “God, that feels so good,” he sighed, his eyes closed. “You feel so good.”

  “I can make it feel better,” I promised, and before he sensed my move, I slid down and captured the tip of him between my lips, t-shirt and all, where I suckled tenderly. I loved the disbelieving gasp that left his lips and I laughed naughtily, dragging another gasp from him. I flipped his t-shirt back to get to the meat of the matter, and the sound I made when I laid eyes on him for the first time was more than needy. It was damn near weeping. He was a god of a man like I’d never seen
before, with a six-pack you could count, his manhood nestled perfectly in the ridge of his navel, and a bead of desire on the tip just waiting to be stolen.

  My tongue darted out and licked it, his hiss of pleasure making me want to come in place, too.

  “Fuck, my little tart. Who said you don’t know what you’re doing?” Bishop moaned, thrashing while I sucked him into my mouth almost to his hilt and held him there, the heat of my lips and tongue stroking him until he slid from my grasp again, all of him quivering with need. I didn’t give him a chance to say more before I sucked him into my waiting lips and rubbed his tip against the back of my throat. He had grasped the sheet for dear life, but he wouldn’t last long if his shaking thighs were any indication.

  Letting him slide from my lips again, I sucked him back in, picking a rhythm I sensed was the right one to make him come apart in my arms. “Oh, God, don’t stop,” he moaned. Suddenly, he grasped my hair and pulled me away at the last second. “I’m going to come,” he hissed, his eyes closed and his head thrown back.

  I grasped him, my hand offering pressure at his base for a moment before he exploded with need across my chest, his moans low, hot, and filled with emotion my inexperience couldn’t decipher. His chest rose and fell, but his eyes remained closed as I stroked him a few more times to draw out his pleasure.

  “I think I sorted out the lust part,” I said, my lips tilting up when he opened his eyes to glance at me.

  “You are a naughty little tart, you know that?” he asked, using his shirt to clean me up. “That was.” He fell to his side and made the mind-blown motion at his head. “I was not expecting that.”

  “Me either,” I agreed, falling back to the bed and sighing. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Probably the same thing about to come over me,” he said, sliding his hand up my thigh and under my shorts. His fingers caressed the thatch of soft hair there while his lips sought mine again. His kiss brought me back to a heightened sense of desire while his fingers stroked their way closer to my center. When he encountered unexpected moisture, his breath caught again, and his lips tugged upward against mine. “It seems you weren’t unaffected by your shenanigans, my student,” he teased.

  I thrust my hips into his hand and moaned. “I’ve never been this hot for anyone before, Bishop,” I said, my voice wavering. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  He gazed into my eyes, his holding mine while his thumb rubbed my cheek. “Do you trust me?”

  “I shouldn’t, but I do,” I whispered, my breath catching when he stroked the engorged bud at my apex.

  “Correction. You trust me because you know you can. You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?” My head nodded without even thinking about it, and then my shorts were gone.

  “What are you doing?” I asked the words in barely a squeak.

  “Repaying the favor.” He was pushing my legs apart carefully, making room for his head.

  I grasped his hair and stopped him instantly. “No. No, I don’t let anyone do that.”

  His gaze lifted to mine, and he waited. “Why not?”

  “I—I don’t know. I just don’t.”

  “Close your eyes,” he said, his fingers straying back to my bud. “Close your eyes, and remember that you trust me.”

  My eyes closed against my will, and I held myself stiff, waiting for him to make a move I didn’t like so I could jump up and run away. Well, not run away, but get away from him. Hide. Pretend I wasn’t now his wife.

  Instead, heat filled me slowly as he caressed me with a tenderness I had never experienced before. His tongue stroked the length of my lips, and then he rested his tongue on that bud, waiting and watching for any sign I wasn’t okay with what he was doing. I moaned a little and shivered, pressing my hips toward his face, wanting more even when I didn’t want any of it. His lips encompassed the bud, and he suckled on it, teasing the rest of my womanhood with his fingers. I was moaning. I couldn’t help the sound as the sensations rocketed through me at such a lightning-fast pace that I couldn’t hold them back. “Bishop,” I called, my hips in the air until he held them down to the bed gently.

  “Say my name again,” he begged, his tongue stroking me while his finger slid inside. When I didn’t object, he slid in a second one at the same time he pulled me back between his lips and sucked hard.

  His name fell from my lips instantly. “Bishop,” I moaned, my voice shaking. “God, Bishop, I can’t stop.”

  His laughter and the exquisite pressure from his fingers sent me right over the edge. I called his name into the room like a dying woman using the last of her breath. When it was over, I found myself in his arms, the lights off, and his legs supporting my bad one. He had even managed to put my shorts back on while I came down from that earthshattering orgasm.

  “I wasn’t expecting that kind of wedding night,” he said, kissing my temple.

  “But we didn’t, you know,” I trailed off, and he tightened his arms around me.

  “Consummate the marriage?” he asked, and I nodded. “Not by the true definition, I suppose, but as far as I’m concerned, you trusting me to bring you to orgasm that way was better than any wedding night I could ever imagine.”

  “You’re just saying that,” I insisted. “Men always want sex.”

  He snuggled deeper to get both legs of mine to rest over his. “Men want sex because it’s easy, Amber. Sex doesn’t require emotions. What we just did required emotion. Whether you want to face those emotions or not, that’s up to you, but I was never happier to see that you didn’t ask me for sex. You trusted me to make you feel good after you offered me the same release. That’s the mutual respect you want in a relationship.”

  “Are you saying I got an A on that assignment?” I asked on a yawn, the heat of him relaxing me after a long day and longer night. Add in that rocking orgasm, and I was so relaxed I could barely keep my eyes open.

  I registered that he had fixed the ice pack over my leg again before he kissed my temple. “Tart, not only did you get an A, but you got all the extra credit, too.”

  Eleven

  The first seventy-two hours of marriage had been blissful. That’s what you’re supposed to say, right? The first few hours were at least, but then real life reared its ugly head again in the form of work, work, and more work. We did manage to get our marriage certificate the next day, and that allowed him to put me on his insurance immediately. He had taken the day off on Tuesday to deal with the wedding, but he still had to finish out the week working on the curriculum with his team at the high school. Per his report, our nuptials had shaken up the town more than we expected. That meant one thing, I had to video-call my parents and tell them we’d gotten married while they were in Florida. It wasn’t ideal, to say the least. They were silent for so long I was afraid the connection had frozen. When I heard the kids playing in the background, I realized they were just struck dumb.

  I had to hand it to Bishop, though. He had a real knack with the parental units. He had my mom eating out of the palm of his hand, telling her how he just fell instantly and deeply in love with me. My dad was a harder sell. I’m still not convinced it won’t come to blows when they get back to town, but for now, at least they’re still talking to me. I think my mother was secretly pleased to hear that I’d found a man, any man, to marry me. She was convinced I’d never get married or have kids because of my fears, as though having a diagnosed condition was something to be ashamed of or hide from people. Once she came around to the idea that I’d eloped, she couldn’t stop talking about how we were all going to live on the same street and how close she would be to her grandbabies, both mine and Haylee’s. I tossed my attention right then to Haylee’s new house to avoid more discussion about my marriage, which wasn’t nearly as real as Haylee’s was.

  It felt damn real the other night, though. That annoying voice in my head had been doing that since my wedding night. Like it enjoyed pointing out all the ways he’d made me feel in the span of fifteen minute
s. I hated that voice. Okay, so I know the voice is me, but I wished I’d shut up more.

  I shook my head and leaned back on the chair, my leg propped up on the bed while I finished sorting and organizing the final batch of bakery invoices. Monday, I would interview two more part-time people for the front of the store. I had hired Taylor’s friend on Thursday, and she had started today. The report I got from Haylee was glowing. The girl was a natural at the job and schmoozed with all the gentlemen while their wives were busy shopping. I was thrilled to hear it. If I could find someone who wanted to work the hours I used to cover, that freed up my time for better managing, marketing, and new campaigns, we’ll have time to implement.

  “Amber!” A voice yelled from outside, and I tossed the papers, letting out a scream while my heart pounded. “Oh my God, Amber!”

  I let out a breath when I realized it was Hay-Hay. When the blood stopped rushing through my head, I noticed her tone of voice was frantic. I pushed away from the pile of papers and grabbed my crutches. By the time I made it down the hallway, she was already coming through my unlocked patio doors.

  “Hay-Hay, what’s the matter?” I asked, crutching my way to where she stood by the door with her chest heaving.

  “It’s over.”

  “What’s over? You and Brady?”

  Her head swung wildly while she gathered herself. I pointed at the couch for her to sit, and got her a bottle of water that she swallowed in one gulp. I took it from her and sat. “Okay, start at the beginning.”

  “Right, the beginning,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I was working over at the new house, and I got a phone call from the DA.”

  “Is this about the trial? Is it ever going to start?” I asked, my tone of voice overly irritated. “I’m so tired of Darla thinking she is going to get away with trying to kill you.”

  “She’s not, that’s what I’m trying to tell you!”

  “They didn’t find her guilty because the trial hasn’t even started, Hay-Hay. Are you feeling okay?”