Sweets

"You're not just a messy, bad girl," he growled softly. "You're very, very horny. I'm sure it distracts you a lot. You need to be fucked hard and often, don't you?"

"By you." I gripped his shoulders. Surprise sparked in his lust-filled eyes. Running my hands from his shoulders to his back, I massaged the hard muscles, feeling tightness melt. His cock felt so big, so deep inside me as I moved up and down. "Mark—" I buried my face in his neck again, sucking on warm skin. I needed to confide it all. "I've thought about you so often at night. When I'm alone and lonely in my bed. When I don't have anyone to share it with."

He jerked against me. Fingers tightened on my tits. "You're going to tell me everything, Kyra," he said softly. "Right now."

"You lick me," I panted, "and...and lecture me, and you make me feel so good and then you don't let me come for a long time while you tease me and stroke your cock, and you're so mean and I call you every name I can think of, and then...uh!"

Mark was thrusting so hard now. My breasts jiggled in his hands. My nipples ached, the large buds caught between his fingers. I hung on tight, riding him. My pussy rippled around his cock, warm and eager and hungry, just like he'd said.

"And then I come— so hard— Mark." I bent down to whisper jerkily in his ear . "I come so hard— because I want you so much. I don't want anyone else. I want you." I could barely talk, gasping with excitement. "I want you to hold me close... and spank me... and lick frosting off me ...and tell me what good girls don't do... and fuck me as hard as you can. And I don't want you to do anything in moderation."

Sweat was trickling down his forehead. "Baby," he whispered, so softly. "Kyra. Sweet thing," and I almost came. I was on the edge. His hands were in my hair. My pussy quivered on his cock, muscles squeezing the thick rod, and Mark grunted. Our hips slammed together, his cock opening my tight warmth again and again, until waves of heat rolled over my body.

His arms clenched on my back. Lips met mine, hot and devouring. He held me tightly, thrusting, groaning with pleasure into my mouth, as spurt after spurt of cum jetted inside me.

Minutes passed. Our breath slowed. I rested my head on his shoulder, just enjoying. Vaguely, I felt Mark stroking my hair. The back wall of the bakery came into focus: shiny white tiles, bulk jars of sweets that had witnessed it all.

One warm hand settled on the nape of my neck, and a strong arm wrapped around my waist. Mark's cock was still buried inside me. My thighs were spread wide open, aching deliciously. His chest hair, smeared with frosting, tickled my heavy breasts as we breathed together, in and out.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"There was a girl." My eyes flicked up to meet his. "Wasn't there? When you worked in that bakery you hated. With all the temptation. It wasn't just about cakes and cookies."

Mark looked surprised. Then his face relaxed. He was tracing patterns over my back. "Yes, there was a girl. It was a long time ago."

A long time ago. As in, I hadn't been born yet. I didn't want to think too hard about that one, and from the expression crossing Mark's face, he didn't either.

"Did she look like me?"

I needed to know. What I felt right now, what I'd felt all night — I couldn't stand the thought that everything between us in this back room, everything in the bakery for the past year with Mark's daily visits and his cups of black coffee and his tips for me, had only been him living out some decades-old fantasy.

He blinked a few times. Then he twisted one of my curls around his finger and gave it a tug. A purple curl. "You look like you."

"I try." I kissed his shoulder, letting my body relax against his. My pussy still hugged his cock. I didn't want him to ever leave.

I wanted to say more, about how much I liked him, how much I wanted to be with him after tonight, but the crack of a falling mop against the floor jerked my head up.

We were still alone, but damn, this back room had never been so messy. At some point, an open jar of sprinkles had been knocked off the counter, and they spilled across the floor in a seedy rainbow. The tub of vanilla frosting was tipped over and melting in the heat. And Jesus, the fridge door still stood open.

"I am so screwed," I groaned.

"I'll help you."

Mark leaned back, looked at me, and smiled.

It was the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. It lit up his whole face. His crow's feet deepened and a faint scar split his dark right eyebrow. Gorgeous.

"Finally." I stroked the crow's-feet with one finger. He looked at me quizzically. A wet tongue flicked out to lick my palm, and I laughed. "I've been waiting for that smile for a whole year. Don't make me wait again."

Mark squeezed my waist. Then his eyes moved around the sugar-splashed back room, over my sweaty curves, and up to my face.

"We've got time."