Darling Niki: Shrinkage

"It's been quite some time, Niki. How are you?" the therapist asked gently, settling into a large, fluffy chair.

Corrine Jacobs had been assigned to Niki while she had been rehabbing at the medical center after her accident. The two ladies had hit it off from the start and had developed a professional/personal friendship that had helped Niki through the worst of her trauma that first year. Corrine was a soft spoken soul with a tinge of spice; a petite little thing with short hair, sweet features and a robust frame. She was classy, but knew just how to be down home and street. In fact, if it hadn't been for Corrine, Niki would've passed on the chance to dance at the Dick & Bunny. The therapist had believed it would be a great release from the stress of her dreams, which the plucky woman always got a personal kick out of hearing.

"Well, since last we spoke, I've discovered that my name isn't Niki," she announced turning away from the window to sit on the comfortable dark beige couch. "It's Tracey."

"That's wonderful! How did it happened? What have you remembered?" she asked writing down some notes.

Niki drew in a deep breath and recounted for Corrine the story of how Troy, her husband, had found her in the D&B on a boys' night out and how their one night stand in the club's back room had turned into a breakthrough in her amnesia. She also told Corrine about how Troy had come to her apartment one night two weeks ago and the subsequent love session that had happened again, which still played on Niki's body even now as she recalled the tale. She even touched on her concerns about seeing her son. A thought that nagged her each day as she looked at the little boy's picture that Troy had given her.

"Well, it seems you've had quite the breakthrough," Corrine sighed in amazement. "How does all this make you feel? Are you still having the dreams?"

Niki fidgeted a little. She was still having the dreams. She couldn't shake them. In fact last night had been the most earth shattering of them all. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Niki looked at Corrine, who awaited her answer patiently.

"To tell you the truth, Corrine, I'm so confused," she said, shakily. "I'm mad at Troy for what he did, but there's this part of me that can't stop wanting him. I feel like a total crackhead."

"I guess those dreams are still happening," the therapist concluded, scrolling the note down.

"Worse than before," Niki admitted getting up to return to the window. Her eyes focused on the traffic below. Taking in a deep breath, Niki began to recount last night's dream.

She was riding on her motorcycle, zigzagging through the city like a bat out of hell. She was reckless as she bent carelessly around corners. In her rearview, she could make out the distinct flashes of a police car behind her. She smiled wickedly as she led him on a merry chase out of the city. She found it odd that the cop hadn't called for back up, deciding to take her down himself. Her Ninja rolled through a woody path followed close by the cruiser. Finally, she heard the officer's voice coming over his load speaker. 


"Pull over, miss," he ordered firmly.


In response, she raised her hand back at him with a one finger salute and kept on riding. Something about trying to outrun him turned her on. She could feel her clit swell with need as the vibrations of her engine stimulated more sensations. It was no wonder, since she was wearing a white tank and a denim mini with nothing more than a pair of white cotton undies separating her and the leather seat. She revved the engine and popped her wheel before speeding off. 


"PULL OVER. NOW!" he hollered, anger now tinging his voice.


Sucking her teeth with 'tude, Niki pulled her bike over. Dismounting, she turned on the copper to give him a piece of her mind. "What the fuck'chu want, pig?" 


As he came into the moonlight, she immediately recognized him, halting her tirade. He snatched her up by the shirt front and dragged her to the cruiser, tossing her on the hood. She could still feel the phantom graze of his knuckles on her nipples as he pressed her against the black and white. 


"Do you know how fast you were going?" he demanded, securing her wrists behind her back with one hand. 


"Fast enough to outrun you," she sassed back.


"You endangered a lot of lives with that stunt of yours," he admonished as his other hand began to frisk her. 


She could feel herself tingle as his fingers touched the bare skin of her legs. A tiny gasp slipped from her lips as he skimmed the inner part of her thigh. This was more than a routine check. His lips were close to her ears, his breath warming away the chill on her lobes. 


"Are you carrying any concealed weapons?"


She swallowed the lump in her throat. His voice was so sexy and so commanding. Her nipples puckered painfully against the hot metal beneath them. "No, officer," she barely got out.


He reached under her tank and began to inspect the area. His large hand covered over each breast, feeling and massaging the tender globes. "You sure?" he pressed huskily before placing his lips on her neck.


Her body pressed back against him feeling his thick erection through his uniform. Her head fell back against his shoulder, seeking his mouth. "Did you find anything?"


"All depends on if I can call them weapons. They seem loaded." Both hands circled her breasts now, kneading them firmly to her chest. His thumbs tweaked and rubbed her nipples, causing her to gyrate her hips to the rhythm. A moan filtered out of her mouth as he continued to nuzzle her neck. The lights of the cruiser shone bright red against her body adding to the sexy atmosphere.


"Can't you let me off with a warning?" she begged breathlessly. "I'll do anything."


The officer looked her sexy body up and down, assessing the offer. His hand dipped below the waist band of her skirt and panties to feel the gushy juice therein. His fingers came away drenched in her dew, which he promptly sampled. His features scrunched in ecstasy as his taste buds took in her flavor. She was sweet and tangy and he was hard pressed to hold back the monstrous pulse in his dick. In fact, he nudged the fiend against her pert ass.


"Anything?" he probed.


"An-ny-thing." She pushed back on his manhood.


Raising the tank up, he exposed her breasts to the cold night air, fondling them warm. His other hand quickly unzipped his pants, then brushed her little panties aside to give his dick access to her inviting puss. A loud cry gasped from her, the impact of being so filled so quickly. He felt so good. Her actions were paused taking him all in, feeling the distinct pulse of his manhood buried deep in her quim. He too was rendered motionless, surrounded in her sleek, tight warmth. Instinct soon kicked in as she rotated her hips against his. He eased himself carefully in and out of her tunnel, savoring the feel of the white cotton scraping against his length. 


"Damn, baby," he growled against her ears. 


Pushing her down on the hood, he took possession of her hips and began to pummel her harder. Moans of pleasure echoed deep into the woods around them. He turned her onto her back, never disconnecting their bodies, and continued to drill forcefully into her core. Pressure built up to its apex, driving her over the edge into a series of wild orgasms. Her body shuttered over and over the black and white cruiser. 


"That's it, baby," he goaded through gritted teeth. "Show me what you got."


Her back arched off the car, pulling his dick as far as she could take it, ringing a growl of satisfaction from deep within him. She could feel every ounce of himself flood into her. There eyes met and fire emberred within their pools. Exhausted, he leaned down over her, kissing her lips gently.


"Come home with me," he begged against her mouth.


"I can't." She was breathless, but still coherent.


"Please. I - need - you."

"It's too late, Troy."


"That's when I woke up," he finished staring at his therapist.

"Damn," the therapist sighed under his breath, writing down the notes.

"So, what does it all mean?" Troy asked, trying to get himself together. He had been seeing Winston Jacobs for a few weeks now. His father had suggested the grief counseling right after Tracey's death, but he had refused. Now that he had found her again, he needed to sort out his feelings and the issues that had lead to their accidental separation. Winston had come highly recommended by the brothers on the force. He and his wife, Corrine, ran a practice together in the city.

"I think you're a man who still loves his wife," Winston answered honestly. "The issue is your wife has become a completely different person now through her trauma. The question really is: can you accept who she is now?"

Troy digested the man's words thoughtfully. Winston was right. He had been trying to convince Tracey to act like her old self, refusing to accept who she was now. Even though, he was strongly attracted to the Niki person she'd become post coma. Strangely, there was still pieces of his old wife in this new Niki; the green thumb, the Susie Homemaker, the protective motherly instincts. He had seen the painful decision in her eyes when she begged him not to tell their son she was alive. She wasn't doing it to be selfish. She was doing it for Nikolas, so he wouldn't be ashamed of her.

"You've given me a lot to think about, doc," he admitted rising from the couch. 



"So, same time next week," Corrine asked Niki as they headed for the door.

"Yeah," she sighed grabbing her bag. She gave the woman a big hug. "Thanks for listening, Corrine."

"Girl, that's why I'm here," the therapist assured her. "Niki, you've come a long way with this. I remember your first session and the inexplicable anger you had pent up inside. You had been so frustrated about the dreams and not knowing who you were. But look at you now. Despite this breakthrough, you haven't broken down.We'll sort this Troy mess out, I promise. Now, what do you plan to do about your son?"

"I don't know," she admitted on a breath. "Do you think...?"

"Only if you're comfortable," Corrine encouraged.

Niki nodded as she strolled out of the office, passed the receptionist to the bank of elevators.


Troy and Winston were just stepping out of his office. Winston tried to make a fast break to hold the elevator, but they had quickly closed behind Niki. Shaking his head at the missed opp, he turned to his wife standing by the receptionist's desk. Corrine smiled up at her husband as he approached with the fine looking man at his side.

"Troy Gusto, I want you to meet my wife and partner, Corrine," he introduced.

"A pleasure, Dr. Jacobs," Troy smiled taking her hand.

"Winston and I have discussed your case, Officer Gusto. I hope we've been able to help."

"Winston's been very helpful. I appreciate you both tag teaming me," he joked before shaking the man's hand. "Well, I got to get home to Niki. The sitter's got a hot date tonight and she said she'd slap me silly if I wasn't home on time to relieve her of her grandmotherly duties."

"Tell your mother I said hi," Winston laughed.

"I will. Thanks." Troy stepped into the elevator.

Winston and Corrine watched as the doors closed on their newest client. "Do you think he saw her?" Winston asked, straightly.

"No," she shook her head solemnly. "But one of these days their paths are gonna cross. I don't think she's so much angry about the infidelity any more. I think she's mostly afraid of losing her new life to her old one. She's got it bad for him."

"I think the feelings mutual," he agreed, turning back to his office. "He's starting to have dreams about her, too."

"You shoulda heard Niki's story today," Corrine laughed following him. "I tell you that woman gives me ideas sometimes."

"Is that where you got the idea to..."

"Hush now," Corrine scolded. "Unfortunately, you don't own a cop car."

Winston paused staring at his wife in disbelief. He just may have heard the story. "Why don't you tell me about the newest adventures of  Niki's Dream Man? I think I could probably fill in the blanks with Troy's?"

"Do tell, Dr. Jacobs."


Troy stepped out of the building onto the sunny sidewalk. At the sound of a motorcycle revving, he turned to see Niki's black Ninja speeding out of the parking garage. What was she doing here? How had he missed seeing her? He looked at his keys then the garage and knew he'd never make it to his car in time to catch up. It had been two, long grueling weeks since he had last seen her, touched her, except in his dreams. She looked sexy today in a pair of dark wash jeans and fitted, leather riding coat. He remembered Winston's question. Could he accept this new Niki? Did he really want the old Tracey back? He made his way to his car pondering these thoughts. They still were weighing on his mind when he strolled into his house. His son immediately ran to him with a squeal.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"Hey, buddy, what you up to?" he asked carrying the boy back to the livingroom where his mother was busy putting the finishing touches on her make up. "Hey, mama."

"'Bout time, boy," she greeted her son with a smile and kiss. "Your father would've got here and a been fuming. You know he don't like to be late for bingo."

Troy laughed as he took a seat next to the still vibrant fifty-five year old. "Sorry, session went a little over."

"How's it going?" she asked.

"Fine," he shrugged the answer. He hadn't told his parents yet that he had found Tracey. No one knew, except maybe the fellas and that was because they'd seen her the same night he had. "The doc's been a big help."

His mother patted his cheek encouragingly before kissing her grandson on the cheek. "Dinner's warming on the stove. Laundry is put away. Oh, and the cable folks called about the mix up on the bill. They're going to call back later to talk to you."

"Thanks, mama," Troy waved, hearing the door close behind her. He tickled lil' Niki playfully causing a peal of laughter. He had his face, but those were Tracey's eyes laughing back at him. He even had her temperament and stubbornness. Rising from the couch, he swung the boy around. "Ok, buddy, you hungry?"

"Unh-huh," the boy squealed as his dad placed him on the ground.

"Ok. I'll get the table set." Troy entered the kitchen while Nikolas continued to color quietly. Suddenly, he was drawn to the window by a loud noise. Jumping on the couch, he watched as a black motorcycle pulled up out front. He was in awe. He'd never seen a bike like that before. He wanted to see if up close.

"Daddy! Daddy!" he yelled. "Come see. Come see!"

"What is it, Niki?" Troy asked watching his son bob up and down on the couch in his excitement.

"Look! Bike!" he pointed outside the window.

Suspicious, Troy peeped out the window and thought his heart had fallen into his shoes. Sitting on the bike was Tracey. She was removing her helmet all the while staring at the house. His heart thundered in his chest furiously.

"Let's go, Daddy!" Nikolas prodded dragging his astounded dad toward the door.

Nikolas swung the door open and ran out onto the porch, but his shyness quickly kicked in when he saw the woman walking toward their door. He dashed behind Troy, poking his little head out from behind him. Unfortunately, he hadn't realized how his actions had effected the stranger, who paused mid-stride, seeing him - them.


Niki couldn't believe she had remembered how to get home. Instinct had led her here. When she parked her bike out front, she sat mesmerized by the house. Her flower beds had gone to wreck and ruin. The grass looked craggy and in need of a serious weeding. Despite all that, the house itself still looked as it did when she ran out that stormy day. When she had built up the nerve to walk up the drive, she didn't expect to see the door swing open and this little man come running out. Then her heart fell when she saw him hide behind his daddy as if he was afraid of her. What had she expected? For him to know this stranger she'd become? For him to come running into her arms? He was barely taking his first steps when she'd left.

"This was a mistake," Niki whispered to herself, turning away.

"Wait!" Troy called after her, feeling a panic hit him. "Niki... my son...Uh, he wants to see your bike."

Niki turned back around thankful her eyes were hidden behind the dark shades. She watched as the little boy came from around Troy's thigh expectantly, hopeful. Taking a deep breath, she strategically cleared the tears before they fell or were noticed.

"Oh yeah?" Nikolas nodded his little head hesitantly.

"Well, c'mon, I'll show you," she offered giving him her hand. The boy looked at her hand then looked up at Troy for confirmation. His dad nodded his consent and stood a safe distance as Niki led him to the bike. He watched attentively as she explained each piece of the bike to him. The breath he had been holding finally escaped him the minute mother and son's hands touched. Something about seeing her here made everything right. He found himself smiling as she placed her helmet on the boy's head, then she hoisted him onto the bike so he could pretend to ride it.

Niki was in such a state of joy. Nikolas was laughing and asking her questions. His vocabulary was extensive for a boy his age. He listened as she had shown all the parts of her Ninja. As they sat on the bike, he made vrooming noises with his mouth much to her delight. His little hands gripped the handle bars, revving them furiously. Her eyes had secretly been watching Troy for his reactions. He looked so good with his fitted white T-shirt and relax jeans. She could feel the heat rise in her body.

Troy stepped closer. "Ok, buddy, I think you've taken up enough of the lady's time."

"Oh, c'mon, Daddy!" he pouted as Niki lowered him gently to the ground.

"Well, we've got dinner waiting," he reminded him.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your dinn-"

"No, not at all. You're more than welcome to-"

"Can you?" This from Nikolas, who jumped up and down excitedly, hoping their new friend would stay long so he could play with her bike. But then confusion struck him. "Wait, who are you again?"

Niki and Troy both held their breath, staring at one another. This was not how Niki pictured reuniting with her son. How could she explain to a three year old the situation fate had thrown on them? Removing her sunglasses she leaned down to look into the boy's eyes directly, searching for the right words to explain. She was surprised to hear him gasp. For one minute solid, mother and son just stared; studying one another; wondering what the other was thinking. Could Nikolas know her? Impossible. He was a baby when she had the accident. She didn't have the long hair or the weight. But she realized, she had the eyes.

"Mommy!" he squealed throwing his arms around her neck shocking Niki stupid. "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"

Tears immediately filled Niki's eyes as she held the little boy tight. For the last two weeks, since Troy and her had those words, she had regretted her decision in not wanting to see her son. His picture followed her everywhere; in her dressing room, on her bike, in her bedroom. That little face haunted her. Aside from her lust for Troy, she had wanted to hold this little man in her arms, to feel the love of his hugs and smell his little head.

"How do you know me, Niki?" she asked brokenly, wiping the tears to no avail since other drops quickly replaced them.

"Daddy and me kiss your picture every night and ask God to keep you safe."

A sob shuttered through her as she tightened her hold on her baby boy. Troy had stood by silently watching them. His son was so happy to see his mommy. It hadn't mattered that she had been gone so long or that she hadn't explained why. His love was unwavering. His tiny arms were locked around Tracey and refused to be untangled.

"Please don't go again! Please stay!"

"Okay, Niki. Okay." She promised haplessly. She just wanted to make the boy happy. Her guilty conscience egging her on. It wasn't her fault she'd left him. Fate played an awful part in that. Her eyes met Troy's as if begging for help.

"Let's go inside," he offered waving his hand toward the house. Niki followed along, carrying a happy Nikolas.


After dinner, Nikolas insisted that mommy help him get ready for bed. Once he had brushed his teeth and thrown on his jammies, he quickly snatched up his favorite book, An Island in the Sun, begging his mommy to read it. Her fingers fondled the book carefully. The cool teal coloring playing whimsically beneath her fingers. Niki fell right into the role as she read the story to her baby, remembering this was the exact story she had read to him the night before her accident. With all the animation she could muster, she enthralled the little boy with her voice, lulling him into a slumber. She felt a lump rise in her throat as she read the last line, "What did I spy with my little eye? And shall we go home now, just you and I?"

Nikolas had fallen fast asleep before the last words were uttered, but another audience member had heard them and he was curious to know the answer. "Can you?" Troy asked, his eyes searching hers.

Niki studied him thoughtfully, then the little boy in the bed. A year and half of a new life was hard to walk away from. She glanced back at her husband, "What are you asking me, Troy?"

Troy wasn't sure exactly what he was asking. All he knew was he felt as Nikolas did. "Please don't go. Stay."

"Do you really think it's that easy?" Niki threw back, rising, placing the book on the nightstand.

They closed their son's bedroom door, not wanting him to hear the tension. Niki turned to say something else, but was cut short when Troy crashed his lips against hers. In that instant, time stood still. Reason took flight. She was trapped by her lusty wants. Pulling away hesitantly, Troy implored again, "Stay."

With a pulse beating wildly and her breath ragged, Niki couldn't think of a reason not to, except... "I can't I gotta... work tonight."

Troy's shoulders fell in disappointment, but he understood. She did have a life outside of this place. Winston's words came flooding into his head. Can you accept the person she is now? This was who Tracey, or Niki, was. If he wanted to be apart of it, he had to accept it.

Niki could see his disappointment and it gnawed on her heart. Corrine had helped her see that it wasn't the infidelity that had bothered her so much. Yes, she was mad, but it was something more. It had been the person she had become. The old Tracey had lost herself and buried the carcass inside a dumpy body to rot and be resentful. Niki had been afraid with Troy having found her, she'd loose this person forever. This confident and living soul that loved life and all its pleasures. How could she marry her two lives together?

Resolved in her decision, she grabbed her iPhone and pulled up a number. "Blu. Niki. Taking that time we talked about."

Before she heard her old friend hoot in delight, she ended the call and tossed the phone on the hall table. Troy wrapped his arms around her, leading her off to their bedroom. She wasn't guaranteeing much, but she would guarantee the night.

Confection

Confection watched as her new apprentice, Cyrus McEnroy, toiled over some dough for an order of pies. He had come highly recommended by one of her assistants, who mentioned that Cyrus was a transplant from England, looking for an under the table gig while he sorted out his immigration status. Confection had been impressed with how much of a quick study he was and that he rose to challenges very easily. He wasn't bad on the eyes either.

She found she loved his raspy English accent and rough and tumble look. There was something really sexy about his bald head that made Confection want to place kisses all over it. She could tell from his build he was rock solid. It was military precision, complimented with spot on reflexes. Proven when he swiftly caught Confection on his first day after she had tripped over a misplaced rolling pin. In that instance, a fire had sparked between the two that refused to go out. So much so, she could feel the intense heat of his stare even when her back was turned.

However, beneath all the smiles and quick wit, she sensed a little ruthlessness and danger just below the surface of his hazel eyes. She knew ruthlessness very well, being the daughter of Vincent "Le Sweet" Smith, renowned baker. He had been a sweet and loving father to her and her sister, Dulce, but he was also a relentless and skilled hit man, who had met his demise in a double cross between a don and his son. Confection had been so angry two years ago, when the cops could do nothing to solve her dad's murder. They said there wasn't enough evidence to arrest them, even though it had been clearly a mob hit. Bitter, Confection dove head first into making sure her dad's bakery didn't go under. However, there was a piece of her that wanted vengeance and was slowly working to get it.

"Confection, the dough's in the pans, what do you need help with?" Cyrus asked, rubbing his hands on the white apron he wore.

His eyes raked over her body appreciatively, which caused Confection to forget her thirst for revenge for the moment. "Oh, Cyrus, you can go home," she told him, hoping he would take her advice since she was finding it hard to maintain her composure when he was so close. "I can lock up for the night."

Cyrus drew closer to her, invading her space. Resting his hand on table, he used his other hand to clear away an errant twist from her eyes. She was an astounding beauty with her full bow lips and spider leg lashes playing over rounded, cherub cheeks. Her long, curling twists piled high above her regal head were as rich as the milk chocolate she stirred in the pot before her. Her golden tanned skin was flushed with a sheen of perspiration, which she wiped away from her forehead after a few intervals of the spoon. The stove wasn't the only thing making her sweat. Cyrus took in her smell, relishing the scent filling his nose. He couldn't see this sweet treat as an assassin, but then again he wasn't there to assess her ability. He was there to complete his own job, per Mickey the Skinny's decree. However, his conscious was starting to eat at him as he got to know and desire the pretty little baker.

"Let me be a gentleman and keep you company," he rasped sexily against her ear.

"That's the problem, Cyrus. You may not be able to maintain your gentlemanly airs around me," she flirted back, staring into his hazel eyes.

Cyrus smirked wickedly. "You make it rather difficult with the cut of your shorts, luv," he remarked checking out her pert derriere.

"You keep playing too close to the fire, Cyrus," she said, turning off the stove. Dipping her long finger into the hot chocolate, she drew the sampling toward her lips, only to have Cyrus redirect the finger to his mouth, where he slowly savored the taste. 

Confection watched with breathtaking silence as he eased the digit from his lips. She could feel the roughness of his tongue slide over her soft finger with such a sexiness that her panties were beginning to drench, causing an ache to pulse in that region. Trying to compose herself, Confection took back her hand and tried to refocus her breathing and her attention. But Cyrus wasn't letting her getaway so easily. He drew the baker back into his arms. They stood toe for toe, chest to chest, lip to lip with one another. Confection could feel her lungs pull in a ragged breath as her mind tried to quell the overwhelming passion clamoring to taste him. This was crazy. 

"Maybe I like playing close to your fire, Confection," he challenged, framing her face in his hands, drawing her lips to his. 

In that instant, the baker melted into his body. She wrapped her lengthy arms around his neck embracing the kiss fully as Cyrus' hands explored her stacked frame. Her hands and arms cradled his bald head lovingly keeping his lips firmly planted against hers. Heat began building steadily, adding degrees of fire and passion to their kiss. Cyrus danced her over to the flour ladened worktable, clearing a space haphazardly spilling the effects to the floor. He replaced them with Confection herself. His leg nudged her thighs apart giving him a berth between them. Cupping her cheeks between his hands, he kissed a path down her long neck and back to her lips.

"Cyrus, this is crazy," she tried to reason. "You're going to have to knead that dough all over again."

"I got a different need, my dear, that requires your attention," he reminded her huskily, pulling her tank top over her head. 

He leaned back to study the perfect globes before him encased in a frilly lace, lavender bra. The curve of her breasts made his mouth water hungrily. Their size was further enhanced by the slimness of her waist that curved into robust hips. He gripped those same hips possessively, his eyes pinning her to the table. They were intense and Confection could tell he struggled with something. Cyrus was indeed struggling. He wasn't sure if he should fuck, no, more like make love, to his mark or come to his senses. Shaking his head, he began to withdraw only to have Confection herself draw him back. 

"Too late, dough boy," she uttered crushing her lips to his.

Their tongues entwined passionately, re-stoking the fires within them. Their lips kneaded harmoniously together as Cyrus' fingers unsnapped her bra strap. Confection drew her lips away to catch a breath, only to have that same breath snatched back when she felt his hot mouth against her neck. It had been so long since she had had some that she was throwing all caution to the wind. Between her and her sister, she was the most conservative. Dulce was quick to roll in the hay with some dude off the street. Apparently, Confection was no better since she was at this moment half naked in her dad's bakery fucking the help.

Cyrus tossed the lacy bra aside and focused his attention on her wine glass breasts. Perfectly shaped and encased in the center of tanned orbs, the dark mauve aureoles puckered in invitation to him. Looking into Confection's brandy colored eyes, his thumb gently pressed the bud sending a welcoming jolt to her puss that made her squirm in pleasure. Then his lips surrounded her other nipple increasing the sensation twenty fold. Confection kept his head in place, enjoying every second of his worship. So much so, she hadn't noticed Cyrus tugging her denim shorts down her legs. Laying her back on the worktable, he worked down her body with the easy of a snake, leaving trails of kisses along her svelte, yet curvy frame. Reaching for the powdered sugar, he knocked over the jar, grabbing a small amount to sprinkle up her body. A tempting trail that his tongue followed.

Confection continued to squirm in pleasure, then a deep moan tore from her throat when she felt Cyrus' mouth hot on her pulsing mound. His lower lips flicked a sip from her burning clit, causing her lower half to shiver in ecstasy. Then he took the engorged kernel into his mouth to suckle. He drank in the bud thirstily, while Confectioon's body writhed to and fro kicking up flour and sugar dust throughout the kitchen. Delectable moans rose and fell from her lips begging Cyrus to continue. Soon, his fingers went to work, seeking her inner lips. His ring finger carefully slipped into her depths to measure her, then it was joined almost simultaneously by the middle. They explored her tightening inner walls, feeling the roughness and slickness within, making his cock harden with more and more need.

Soon, they found her special spot deep in the back, hidden around a small curve and Confection began to shake in violent pleasure. Her breathing became ragged and her walls tightened painfully around his two fingers, forcing one out. Damn she was tight - and wet. Cyrus' mouth watered hungry as he pulled his jeans down and ripped off his shirt. Pulling a condom from his pants pocket, he strapped up quickly urgent to delve into her nethers. 

"Oh, God, Cyrus," she groaned hazily, trying to collect her thoughts. But thoughts were soon surrendered when she felt his thick member fill her completely. 

Confection's eyes drew to his. She could hear his strained groan as he tried to hold himself within her tight walls. She relaxed her muscles allowing him further entrance. Sweat formed on his head, dripping sexily over his chiseled chest. The tension had drained from his brow once Confection had given him entrance into her still quivering puss. Soon replaced by complete male satisfaction as he began to move within. He didn't pummel her, no, he took his sweet time. Each pull in was as equally, and torturously,  slow as the pull out. Like he was using each stroke of his dick to feel the ridges of her slick walls, confirming what his fingers had felt earlier. 

"Oh, dearie, you are too good," he rasped against her ears, between pumps. "I've been fantasizing about this since the day I first met you."

"I have to admit, I've done the same," she said, wrapping her legs around his body seeking more of him.

Cyrus drew Confection into his arms and turned her over. Leaning her over the table, he reentered her puss from behind savoring the feel of the new position. Grabbing more powdered sugar, he sprinkled the sweet over its namesake's back and then proceeded to lick the curvature appreciatively.

"You are delectable, my dear," he praised, gripping her hips possessively, all the while, driving deeper and deeper into her. 

The compliment reached her eyes tenderly as she spread herself more openly to him. The feel of his heavy balls gently smacking her clit was bringing on a whole new sensation of bliss that Confection had never felt before. Her head reared back, forcing her nipples to rub deliciously over the floured worktable. Another orgasm was surfacing quickly, tightening her walls again. Feeling the squeeze, Cyrus grit his teeth against the pleasurable pain. Her walls were still wet and pleading, hungry. The pressure pulsing in his cock was becoming unbearable and begging for release, but he wanted to savor her for longer, just a little longer. Suddenly, just as Confection had unleashed another round of orgasmic moans, Cyrus followed right behind her. His body rocked forcefully against hers, ringing orgasm after orgasm from the sweet miss. When the energy had gone out of them, Cyrus turned Confection about to face him.

He knew he had broken his rules about getting close to a mark. His eyes studied her glowing face. Damn her for this beauty of hers. Her lips were swollen from their hard kissing, her breath cool against his hot skin. Shit, he wanted her all over again. Swallowing hard, he gazed into Confection's eyes. He knew he couldn't do it and he was gonna pay for not fulfilling his assignment. Mentally shrugging to himself, he decided to come clean to the baker. Suddenly, his head felt light and the room began to spin.

"Confection," he began, staggering. "I have something to tell you..."

"No need, Cy," she hushed, her heart breaking a bit. "I already know."

"What?" he asked shocked by her calm. 

"You forget my dad was hit man for forty years, which means we knew all the players in town," she explained. "I knew who you were the minute you walked through my door."

"But why? Why did you let me?" he asked as he staggered naked back against the stove. "What did ... you do... to me?" Then he realized his mistake. "The chocolate!"

"Don't worry, you won't die, Cy?" she told him, pulling on her shorts and shirt. "But I can't have you in the way. This ain't your fight."

She went to the storeroom door, opened it and promptly shoved him in. "Now, this should keep you safe until I figure out what to do with you."

With that, Cyrus fell into a deep slumber unsure what would become of him, or the little baker for that matter. Confection was looking to get herself killed and he was the only who could help her, knowing who had hired him. Dusting herself off and retrieving a wrapped box from the cabinet, Confection closed up the shop and headed out to make a "special" delivery. She glanced back at the shop, thinking of the naked Englishman locked in her storeroom and couldn't help but smile at her brazenness.


"He was certainly sweet," she sighed to herself, rounding the corner.