Glazed (9 page)

He grinned down at her, clearly catching her good mood. “What?”

“I got approved for a business loan!”

He pulled her into an embrace, snatching her right off her bouncing toes. “That’s great!”

She let him hug her for a minute, breathing excitedly against his chest. She’d been nervous ever since she’d applied for the loan, afraid she’d be turned down. She had an excellent credit history and had labored meticulously over her plan, but she was still just a waitress without any managerial or business experience. “I found out this morning, and I called my realtor straight away to put in an offer on the building.”

“Forget about the buffet then. I’m taking you some place special.”

She wriggled against him, escaping his embrace. “Not in this!” she said, indicating the sweater she’d paired with her most flattering jeans. It was a cute outfit, but not a ‘some place special’ ensemble.

He shrugged. “You look great. Besides, I’m more interested in what’s underneath.” He reached out, grinning, to slip a few fingers beneath the hem of her sweater and rub the curve of her hipbone suggestively.

She shuddered as a pleasant chill raced down her spine and her excitement abruptly began to refocus, turning now toward Derek. Memories of their lovemaking had been playing through her mind since it’d happened two days ago, causing her to go weak in the knees at random intervals. Only her preoccupation with the good news from the bank had kept her from throwing herself at him as soon as he’d walked in this evening. Now, she pressed herself suddenly against him again, desperate to feel his body against hers. “Is that right?” This time, she’d gone all out ‘underneath’. She hadn’t planned on letting him catch an eyeful until after dinner, but now… She pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it to the floor, seized by sudden impulse. She was going to take it off anyway to change – why not let him have a peek?

His jaw dropped, his dark eyes widening appreciatively.

“You like it?” she asked, pressing herself against him again so her breasts rubbed his chest, barely covered by the thin black lace cups of her bra. Her nipples were clearly visible through the delicate material, already hardening against him. He was looking too, and doing a little stiffening of his own.

He breathed hard against her hair, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her close enough that she could feel his considerable appreciation. “Like it? That’d be an understatement.”

She shifted against him, rubbing her belly against his swollen cock.

He groaned. “Are you just teasing me? Because if so, you’re a cruel woman.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he pushed back against her, flexing his hips in response to her motion. At first she’d only meant to give him a look to whet his appetite, but now…

“They’re going to kick me out of the restaurant when I lay you across the table,” he breathed, adding “if I even make it there,” as an afterthought.

“You won’t,” she replied, reaching down to grasp his cock through his jeans.

He pressed a hand between her legs, rubbing her clit through the denim. “Is that an invitation?”

She squeezed him in reply, reaching below to cup his balls as she did so.

He lifted her suddenly and she wrapped her legs around his waist, letting his erection rub against her crotch, pressing the seam of her jeans against her clit. He nipped her earlobe and began to move, carrying her, though not toward the bedroom as she’d expected. She was just about to ask where he was taking her when he lowered her onto a smooth oaken surface – the kitchen table. Her core tingled and tightened as he lay her across it, reaching down to unbutton first her jeans, and then his own. “How sturdy is this thing?” he asked as he pulled her pants down over her ankles, casting an appraising glance at each of the table’s four legs in turn.

“Sturdy enough,” she gasped. Hopefully that was true – no way was she going to stop him.

“Damn,” he breathed, getting an eyeful of the black lace panties she was wearing, a perfect match with her bra.

She smiled in satisfaction, watching the way his eyes roved over the sparse lace that revealed more than it covered what lay beneath. Before she knew it he’d planted a hand on each of her hips and was turning her over.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he rolled her onto her belly.

“Checking out the view from back here,” he said, sliding a finger beneath the thong string.

Her cheeks flushed with heat – half from arousal and half from self-consciousness. “Great. Just what you need – an up-close inspection of my butt.  As if it doesn’t look big enough from far away.”

“It is just what I need,” he assured her, “and it looks even better up close.” He placed a hand on one cheek and squeezed for emphasis. “Perfect.”

Her core drew itself even tighter, and her clit throbbed against the tabletop. Perfect? Her self-consciousness began to drain away, replaced by burning need. “Don’t make me wait.”

He rolled her onto her back again and fixed her with an intense gaze as he pulled the ebony lace down over her hips. “I won’t.”

He’d already unbuttoned and unzipped his own pants. Now he yanked them down along with his underwear, letting them slide over his ass. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom, donning it as she watched. She was ready, her knees held wide apart in invitation, her legs dangling over the edge of the table. He grasped its edge as he entered her, moaning in appreciation.

She arched her back against the tabletop, gasping as he filled her. He removed his hands from the oaken edge and placed them instead on her hips, pulling her tight against him and thrusting again. She shuddered, her fingers scrabbling against the wood as she searched for something to grasp. His body was out of reach, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to get her hands on it.

He watched her struggle and smiled, pushing deep inside.

She dug her nails into her own palms, forgetting about anything besides the fact she was about to come. Gripping him tight, she pressed her hips down hard against the table as waves of pleasure washed through her core. She gasped and he sighed, tightening his hold on her hips and beginning to move faster.

****

Derek gazed across the table at Kelly as they awaited the arrival of their meals at the nicest restaurant in Blue Mills, an Italian place called Sorrento. With her lips parted, she looked irresistible as she raised her wine glass to them. He watched appreciatively, eyeing the way her little black dress clung to her body. She’d put the thing on after he’d finished making love to her on the table back in her apartment.

“So how was your day?” she asked, lowering her wine glass. “I didn’t even think to ask you, with all the excitement over my loan approval and, mmm…” She titled her head at him, smiling conspiratorially.

“It could’ve been better,” he admitted, the smile her mention of their lovemaking had triggered at odds with his words.

She gazed across the table at him, plainly concerned. “Having trouble without your best fryer?”

He shook his head, and then thought better of it. “Well, yeah – but that’s not what I meant.” The wadded up piece of paper felt suddenly heavy in his pocket. He might as well tell her about it. She’d seen him that night, after all, and if the photo really was spreading around town she was bound to find out about it sooner or later. “Something else came up at the shop today.”

She watched, her face a perfect portrait of concern as he pulled the paper out of his pocket and uncrumpled it, smoothing it against the surface of the table. Then he slid it to her, feeling slightly nervous. What would she think when she found out a nude picture of him was circulating around town?

She glanced down at the photo and her jaw dropped. She stared at it for several minutes before looking up at him, her eyes wide and cheeks a bright pink. Oh God, let that flush be because of the wine.

“Where did this come from?” she gasped.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. So much for a calm reaction – she seemed more shaken by the photo than he was. “Some customers brought it with them and left it behind on their table this morning.”

Her cheeks were redder than ever.

“I have no idea who took it,” he added, just in case she was drawing the same sort of crazy conclusions Jason had that morning.

“I do,” she said, blinking as she met his eyes.

“You do?”

She nodded, staring down at the table now. “It was me.”

“You took this photo?” He leaned forward to stare at it, as if the battered printout would back her up if it were true.

She nodded again. “I snapped it with my cell phone that night. It was an automatic reaction, I guess. I didn’t know who you were, and I never thought I’d actually meet you.”

He was still gaping at the photo when the obvious next question dawned on him. “Did you make copies, then?”

She shook her head violently, sending locks of dark hair cascading over her shoulders. “No, of course not.” She looked away from him again. “But I did text the picture to my best friend that night.”

His mind was filled suddenly with images of his butt zooming around town via cyberspace, ricocheting off satellites and into the hands of Blue Mills’ female population. “You texted it?”

“I thought it was amusing, at the time,” she said in an apologetic tone. “Until now I had no idea she’d sent it to anyone else. I’m so sorry.”

He straightened, snatching the photo from the tabletop and wadding it back up before he shoved it back into the safety of his pocket. “No, it’s my fault for running around like that.”

The waiter appeared, lowering their meals onto the table. When he left, Kelly shot a glance across her plate of pasta at Derek. “I really am sorry. But at least it’s a flattering picture.”

****

“So this is where the magic happens,” Kelly said, following Derek through the Blue Mills Donut House’s back door.

He laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call it magic. I can’t believe you wanted to come with me.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been wanting to see the inside of this place.” Derek had taken her to his condo after their dinner at Sorrento the night before, and she’d spent the night. When he’d risen before dawn to leave for the donut shop, she’d declined his generous offer to stay behind and continue sleeping, as tempting as it had been after such a tiring night. In the past, vague dieting aspirations had caused her to avoid the Blue Mills Donut House and its sweet temptations. This was the first peek she’d ever had at the inside of the store.

“I’m glad you came,” he said, bending to kiss her.

She watched as he donned an apron and busied himself in front of a large industrial mixer, tossing in carefully measured quantities of raw ingredients. “Do you always open by yourself?”

“I usually get here about half an hour before my employees.”

“How many do you have?”