The Heavenly Baker (4 page)

‘I feel safe there.'

‘Then promise me that you'll enter the competition and you will believe you are good enough to win.'

‘I can't promise that,' I say.

‘Why can't you?'

‘Because it's too much pressure, but I will promise you that if you ask me to enter then I will do the job to the best of my ability and that's all you can really ask of me.'

‘It's a deal,' says the Heavenly Baker and I see that smile return and it really is a heart breaker. How many girls have succumbed to that smile – and do I really want to know?

‘Now, about that photo?' he enquires.

‘I can't ask.'

‘No, silly. I'm asking you.' Holding out his phone, he snaps me sitting across the table holding up my beer. It feels like a moment in time that could be the start of something, like the tiny snowball that starts rolling in the snow and little by little momentum builds until you're looking at an avalanche. I have to wonder whether being here now is the beginning of my own avalanche. He comes round the table and puts his arm around me as he snaps another picture and the heat coming off him is just like molten lava. I feel the butterflies and the smile slips easily onto my face.

Chapter Five – Breathless

This tension between us builds like a wave but eventually a wave breaks and the same must be true of us. I will it to happen. Every fibre of my being wants to know him in the most carnal of ways. I have never felt such an aching need as I feel right now here with this man. I am possessed. I can see these events unfolding between us, the way this evening must end, and yet I am powerless to change the course of events or even speed them up to their inevitable conclusion. Just breathe, Ava, and enjoy the ride!

He is wonderfully handsome and self-assured as he sets the Martini down in front of me and settles on the stool directly opposite me in the hotel bar. It is late and my hotel room is just a short elevator ride away yet, seemingly, he is in no hurry to allow the evening to reach its inevitable conclusion. It is inevitable. The way his eyes linger on mine and the way my heart speeds up whenever he touches me. He is understated and clearly not one for public displays of affection yet there have been moments already: sitting close in the bar surrounded by his people; the closeness of our bodies when he snapped us later in the bar; brushing a strand of rogue hair from my face as we watched the world pass us by from the confines of the speeding taxi. Yes, there have been moments and I know there will be more to follow. I feel it in my heart. It races just thinking about what must happen next.

‘Why can't you see what everyone else can see?' he asks, reaching for his bottle of beer.

‘I don't follow.'

My eyes drift to those lips and I can't help but wonder how they will feel kissing my neck, parting my thighs and kissing my most hidden secret.

‘You don't think you're good enough to take part in the contest but you are.'

‘That's your opinion.'

‘It is, but it's my show so I should know, shouldn't I?'

‘One would hope so,' I accept.

‘And yet you don't. Why is that?'

‘I'm not very good with compliments, I guess?' That is true and so is the burning in my crotch. I can't tell if it's the alcohol that's got me feeling so twitchy or just him. Wrap me around your body. Bend me until I break. Fuck me until I melt! This is bad. I can't see a way out of this situation which doesn't end up with me naked and panting. If truth be told, I don't want to see another way out. But what if he leaves me here hanging in the hotel bar? It is a bolt from the blue and it sends a shiver emanating the length of my body. What if he does that? I don't think I can bear it. This yearning is like an addiction, and he is the cure or is he the antidote? Oh, I don't know any more. I can't focus and I can't think straight. Let's just get naked and see where that leads us.

‘I noticed. Let me guess, was it a childhood trauma or …?'

‘Let's not get into it, Sigmund!' I warn.

‘OK.' Matt raises his hands in defeat.

Why is he waiting? Why doesn't he take control the way I'm longing for him to? I'm here and I'm wanton and desperate. Yes, desperate to spread my legs and feel him drive deep inside me. Who is this filthy wench who has invaded my brain, I want to ask, and where have you been all my life?

‘Can I ask you a question?' I can't wait any longer. It is time for direct action. I reach for the olive and play with it, easing it between my lips and sucking on it – and now I have your full attention, Matt Richards, don't I?

‘What's on your mind?'

‘You're on my mind, and I don't know if it's just the alcohol talking but there are things I really want to know.'

‘Ask away,' Matt replies, reaching for his bottle again.

‘Why isn't there a ring on your finger?'

‘Why isn't there one on yours?' he replies.

‘I asked first.'

‘That's fair.' He takes another swig.

‘You're stalling.'

‘I am,' he agrees. ‘Maybe I don't believe in the institution of marriage.'

‘That's an answer.'

‘But you don't seem willing to accept it.'

‘Why do you say that?'

‘I can see it in your eyes, Ava, and they really are incredible. They're not unlike looking into pools of molten chocolate.'

‘That's more like I was expecting,' I say, not able to prevent the grin from spreading.

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘You're a ladykiller. I totally get it. I mean, you're a good-looking guy and this bakery programme is the perfect vehicle for you to make a killing in the bedroom stakes but I've been really surprised by you all day long. No lines, no moves, until just then.'

‘You do have beautiful eyes.'

‘I know.'

‘What is this?' exclaims Matt. ‘Let me make a note of this because –' and he checks his watch ‘– at ten-oh-seven precisely, Ava Michaels accepted a compliment.' He screws his eyes up. ‘What is your game exactly? You play the innocent but you're far from it, aren't you?'

‘I never said I was innocent,' I reply, reaching for my martini glass and draining it. ‘I've just been waiting for you to ask the right questions.' And now the game is on for sure! I see his eyes light up.

‘And here was me worrying about my moves, when you've got enough moves for the both of us.'

‘The question really is do you want to play?'

‘Do I want to play?' he repeats, unable to stop that killer smile from creasing his lips.

‘Have you got the balls?' I lick the taste of martini from my lips. It's not subtle but it's not meant to be.

‘Why don't we find out?' He empties the last of his beer bottle.

‘Why don't we?' I reply, and the heat coming off our bodies could kick-start nuclear reactors. Let the evening now truly begin!

The elevator doors chime closed and, like the bell at a boxing ring announcing the start of combat, the games commence. His lips burn to the touch, seeking out mine as his steely body presses me into the side wall of the elevator. The dam has been breached and all attempts at decency and order will be trampled into the dust. This is a fight for supremacy and survival. I find his lips and the strength of my own wanting leaves me gasping as I drive my tongue harder and harder into his mouth, feeling his tongue pressing back as the strength of his need for me grows and stiffens in his crotch. I feel him rigid, pressing into me, and his hard length is a very welcome distraction. My hand finds it, moulding to the shape of him against the barrier of his jeans. His lips find my neck and I let out a low moan as he presses himself into me. Three submissions and one glorious fuck is all I am looking for tonight.

His hand squeezes my breast through the fabric of my shirt and I feel my nipple react to his touch. His palm burns me and I feel the flesh of my areola start to sizzle. My hand closes on his hand as I suck the air through my teeth. The air is starting to heat up around us. Slipping my fingers through his, I guide his hand from my breast, placing it between my thighs so his palm cups my crotch. The heat of his touch devours me. I feel the buzz engulf me.

Buttons on my shirt pop open, revealing wanton flesh and black lingerie. His mouth finds mine as our kisses channel our growing desire; harder, faster, longer, deeper, kiss upon kiss. There is no beginning and there is no end; only his lips upon mine and I never want them to stop. The feeling is heavenly and the itch in my crotch is a full-on fire. His palm massages the fabric of my jeans as we continue to trade kisses but he is a tease. Surely he knows what to do? Have I not shown him the way? Why does he play with me so when clearly I need more?

‘What are you waiting for?' I moan through kiss-hungry lips.

He looks at me and I see the flames of longing and desire bubble and ignite in his eyes. Pressed against the elevator wall with my shirt unbuttoned, I am his for the taking. So take me! I beg silently. Don't play games with me, not now when my desire is tattooed across my face so clearly for you to see.

The button on my jeans opens as he works it free with his thumb and finger. I feel the zip start to give and the pressure release is immediate. Pressing me further into the elevator wall, Matt kisses me harder, still nailing me to the wall with his rock-hard body, freeing up his hands to wriggle my jeans down my hips. His palm flattens against the crotch of my panties and I shiver with anticipation of what he is about to do. Invade me with your fingers. Tease me with your touch. Leave me gasping for release. Do it all. Do everything! I am greedy and needy for your touch.

His palm rests there, not moving, heat radiating off it and surging through me. I am wet for him. My sex aches for his attention. I press myself against his palm as if he needs further encouragement. He kisses me as his fingers breach the boundary of my panties and now we're getting somewhere. Another kiss and another and now his fingers are starting to wander and it's a struggle to concentrate on anything. Matt nuzzles my ear with his teeth and I sigh involuntarily.

‘Don't go anywhere,' he whispers playfully.

Where am I going to go, exactly? I ponder as he starts to work his way down my body and his finger massages my source of infinite pleasure. I bite my lips to stop myself from yelling out encouragement but the sensation of his rough digit on my delicate pearl is sending all the right signals buzzing through my brain. He slips his finger free, instantly replacing it with his thumb, and I am powerless to prevent the slide of my jeans down my thighs and lower still. My head feels woozy and I am thankful for the elevator wall to stop me floating away into the stratosphere.

I feel his lips on my stomach, warm and moist and intoxicating, and my heart skips a beat. Wicked thoughts circle and spiral in my head and I have to bite my lip again as Matt hooks his fingers into my panties and peels them slowly but surely away from my sex. I am naked and exposed. Letting my panties fall, Matt kisses each thigh in turn before working his mouth up my inner thigh. The knowledge of what he is about to do makes me wetter still. Gently, he parts my lips with his fingers before running his tongue over my pussy lips. He is hot and rough and the contrasting sensations make me gasp out loud. This is too much and yet it is everything and more. This isn't happening. I have drifted off into the darkest recesses of my mind.

He parts my lips wider, allowing his tongue access to my pussy, then he invades me. His tongue is rough and hard and insistent. I shiver with the excitement of his touch and then, like some Zen master, he presses his thumb to my clit and I am lost, a prisoner to the sensations screaming through my body. He holds me in place, a hand on my stomach pressing me against the wall as he tongues me with hard, determined strokes. All the while his thumb beats out its own hypnotic rhythm on my pearl. The sensations build rapidly; they sizzle and spark from deep within, my own personal love tornado ripping through my body. I press my palms into the wall and brace myself for the explosion, and all the time the Heavenly Baker keeps fondling and kissing me.

‘Oh fuck me!' I yell. I scream. There is no place for decorum now. Awaken the gods because they need to hear this. Don Juan might just as well pack his case because there's a new lover in town and he is sensational.

I clench and feel the contractions shred me from the inside. I pant and gasp and am consumed by this fierce love exorcism. The grenade detonates and I feel my body incinerated. Instantly, every part of me is returned but I am different. How can I not be different now?

The sensations peak and drift away from me and I am acutely aware that the sound of my own heartbeat is deafening. I blow a rogue strand of hair from out of my face and open my eyes. He is sitting on the floor of the elevator, looking up at me undone before him, but he is no obedient dog at my feet. No, whatever he is to me I am bound to him now for ever and a day.

‘You're not real, are you? The gods sent you.'

He smiles.

‘What am I supposed to do now?' I'm half leaning against the elevator wall with my panties and jeans still round my ankles. I've had better looks.

‘I can think of one or two suggestions,' remarks Matt and he has that glint of trouble right there in his eyes.

‘I bet you can,' I say. ‘Turn around.'

‘But I've …'

‘Turn around,' I insist and, like the gentleman I believe him to be, he does so.

As I begin to slide my panties back in place and restore my jeans to some level of decency and button my shirt I realise that the ball is now in my court. But how can I raise the stakes when the bar has been set so high? It is a quandary, is it not? And then a thought wanders into my brain – a naughty, wicked thought – and now it is here I cannot dislodge it. It curls my lips into a smile. Yes, perhaps it is time to raise the bar and I know just how.

Matt starts to turn.

‘Hey!' I declare. ‘No peeking.'

‘But I thought …'

‘It's dangerous to think. Now, just wait.'

With a ridiculous smile plastered all over my face and the knowledge that this is beyond bad I set my fiendish plan in motion. My heart thunders against my chest as the adrenaline kicks in. I creep closer to Matt and whisper seductively in his ear. ‘Close your eyes and count to ten and don't even think about peeking, mister, otherwise you'll ruin the surprise.'

‘OK,' says Matt over his shoulder.

‘Close your eyes,' I insist. ‘Promise me you will.'

‘I promise,' he replies and closes his eyes.

I open the elevator door and peek out. The coast is clear, so I do what any self-respecting girl in my position would do and make a run for it, leaving a pile of clothes lying on the floor. As I dart along the corridor
au naturel
I realise I haven't had this much fun in years!