Author’s Choice. I love these days. I don’t hurt my brain so much trying to figure out what book to use and post from. I don’t have to dig through my book files to find the right book for what that week’s particular theme is.
At the same time, I love participating in Snippet Saturday for those very reasons. I know, I’m a little goofy. It’s all right. I know it.
Pink Buttercream Frosting has been on my mind a lot lately. Lately being since August when more than a handful of people came to me and wanted to know when I was going to write more books like it. Emotion. D/s. Frosting. So, today, I though that my choice for snippets would be from Pink Buttercream Frosting…
Aidn sat outside the front of Bailey’s townhouse. What in the hell was he doing? Cutting the engine of the Jeep, he looked around the area a little.
Bailey Bakes was painted in swirls of pink, purple and brown on a wooden sigh that hung from an iron rod beside the glass door. It had a touch of class to it, historical. “Now or never,” he murmured, getting out and locking the Jeep’s doors. Before he could think about it again, he crossed the sidewalk and pushed open the front door, stepping inside the small bakery. A bell jingled above his head and the smell of vanilla assailed him.
“Hi, can I help…”
Bailey’s words trailed off once she raised her eyes. She was wiping her hands on an apron adorned with cupcakes and had a smudge of white across her forehead.
She swallowed visibly. “What are you doing here, Aidn?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” He looked around, taking in the tiny shop, knowing his answer wasn’t adequate. His eyes lit on the front window display of three very beautiful, very different in design wedding cakes. He walked over, stuffing his hands in his pockets for lack of anything better to do with them other than to reach for her, to know if she was as soft and exciting to the touch as before. “Did you make these?”
“I decorated them. They aren’t really cakes.”
I really need to get the hell away from you. There was such warmth in the bakery, like coming home after school on a spring day to a house smelling of fresh baked cookies. He wasn’t a homey kind of guy, he wasn’t nostalgic, but one would never have known that if they were privy to his thoughts in that moment. Robert would be having a damn field day with this. He needed to get away from her and the good-bye word was on his lips but that’s not what was coming out. “What are they?”
She giggled and the sound caused something in his heart to tighten and then loosen. Big fucking danger zone.
“They’re actually made from foam that is cut and shaped, then covered with icing and fondant and decorated.”
“Huh. Learn something new every day. You do bake real cakes though, right?”
She rolled her eyes and his hand itched to spank her for the gesture. She was teasing with him, but still, the urge to bend her over his knees and yank her jeans and panties off so he could give her a good bare-hand-to-bare-ass spanking was nearly overwhelming.
“Yes, of course I do. I wouldn’t make any money otherwise.”
“Did you go to school to learn this?”
“A few years before my divorce, I started baking a lot, took some cake decorating classes. I found that I enjoyed it, that I was good at it. I took some business courses, a few pastry courses and well, here I am.”
“This is why you were so in love with the lotion, isn’t it?”
She nodded along with letting another giggle escape. He should leave, but he was going to kiss her instead.
And he did. With all the tenderness he could muster, he cupped her face with one hand and pulled her flush against his body with the other, lowered his head and kissed her surprised mouth. It was soft and gentle, a mere tasting of her.
When he lifted his head long before he wanted to and looked at her, her eyes slowly opened to meet his. She licked her lips and he bit back a groan.
“Oh wow,” she whispered.
“Indeed,” he whispered back, tasting the corner of her mouth.
“I…” She blew out a breath then gulped another back in. “That was…”
He focused his gaze on her face. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were bright with hunger, and he could see her pulse beating wildly in her neck. She wanted him. She was aroused and hot for him just like that. In the space of a heartbeat, she’d gone from wary and business-like to lusting. It was incredibly tempting, knowing he had that kind of power over her.
“Ask me for another kiss, Bailey.”
“Please, may I have another kiss?”
Her eyes widened once the word registered. He wasn’t sure why he’d put it out there, put the line in the sand, but he wouldn’t take it back. It seemed the right thing to do.
“Please, may I have another kiss, sir?”
He couldn’t explain his reaction to hearing her say ‘sir’…pride, power, happiness.
“I want to try something. Will you let me?”
“I want you to close your eyes. Just listen to my voice. Trust me. Please, Bailey?”
She twisted the apron strings between her fingers and looked down at the ground. “Why?”
“In one of the books on your bookshelf you tagged a page about sensory deprivation and while I could likely find something to blindfold you with, I’d rather just ask you to close your eyes, to listen to my voice, to just talk to me and let me in.”
Aidn could see she was struggling just as much as he was with the request. She was fidgeting with her fingers, wouldn’t look at him, and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were closed and his heart skipped a beat. “Good girl. Now, say it again. Say ‘sir’ again.”
She licked her lips and swallowed hard. “Sir.”
He dropped his hands from her hair and took a measured step back, taking in some air. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he leaving? Why was he leading her down a submissive path when it was all kinds of wrong for him to do so? Why couldn’t he resist her?
“Oh yes, such a good girl.”
Okay, so yeah… Anyone else want some frosting? Homemade, of course…
Take some time and visit the following authors and their blogs for more Snippet Saturday fun!
What kind of description should we go for? Surroundings? Character? How about a little of both courtesy of Decker and Rosie from Cracklin’ Rosie?
He wasn’t sure what it was about the curvy, pint-sized waitress that turned him on, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her, wanting her and damn when the roofing job was done, he was going to figure out her weakness and get her into bed with him.
“Yes, better. What do you want, Decker? I’m on my way to work and don’t want to be late. Besides, you’re blocking traffic.”
Decker laughed and shook his head. There was no traffic in the small town at this ungodly hour of the morning because everyone was either still asleep or having a nice leisurely breakfast down at the diner. “I stopped to see if you’d like a ride to work.”
“It’s only about a half mile down the road. I think I can make it. Thanks. And you’re going in the wrong direction anyway.” She started walking again, summarily dismissing him. He drove up to the next street and turned around. When he pulled up alongside her again, she didn’t wait until he’d shouted her name to look at him. She kept walking though.
The way her peach-colored dress pulled across her hips and ass when she walked did nothing to sway his libido in any direction other than the current where’s-the-nearest-flat-surface one. The bodice hugged her breasts in just the right way, not too tight, not too loose, but dear Lord in heaven she had a beautiful pair. He hadn’t seen them naked yet, but he had a pretty good imagination and it told him that she’d overflow his hands and respond so well to the teasing tip of his tongue.
She had pretty, blemish free skin, save for the few freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. She walked to work every day, too, and had strong-looking legs. She wasn’t thin, slender or skinny. She had too many curves for that, which suited him just fine. He didn’t go for the rail thin, magazine-size women. Never had and it was too bad that L.A. was all about skinny and bikini and boy hips. He didn’t go for the centerfold type either. He’d always been partial to real women that took care of themselves but weren’t afraid to indulge in real food and that had a little extra flesh. It marked up so well to his spankings, floggings, whippings. They could take a real good fucking, too, and he wasn’t afraid he’d break them in half. Oh yeah, Miss Rosie was perfect for him. He just had to convince her of that.
“You’re not being very hospitable, Rosie. Might have to talk to your manager.”
It’s not that she didn’t want him around. It’s that she wanted him around too much. It threw her off her game. She didn’t know how to handle a man’s interest like his. Hell, she didn’t know how to handle her own interest in him. She was thirty-seven years old and had never come across a man as potent as him—straight sun-streaked brown hair to his collar, black-rimmed glasses with skulls on the frames, dark chocolate eyes, and tattoos. He had tattoos up and down his back. She’d seen him once without his shirt and stared and drooled like a damn fool. He was gorgeous. At least to her. Most people in town gave him a wide berth until he smiled at them. Then they warmed up, shaking his hand, talking to him, making him feel welcome and at home in their little community. She didn’t want him feeling at home here. She wanted him to go home, back to wherever he came from.
And speaking of that damned smile of his. It was very disarming and melted every woman, even ones older than Betsy, into a puddle. He had eyes for only one woman though.
Why couldn’t he have been one of those overweight, beer-bellied, crack-showing blue-collar guys? It would have made life lately so much easier.
“I am the manager.”
Then there was the megawatt grin. His teeth were pearly white in his tan face, straight and beautiful. Could teeth be beautiful?
“Well, isn’t that fortunate for you? Not to mention, I never said I was anything close to a gentleman.”
He hadn’t, but she knew he was. He opened doors for little old ladies. He shook hands with little old men. He smiled, made small talk with people, and she knew he’d give his last dollar to anyone that might need it. He had that bad-boy look yes, but he was a gentleman through and through. It sucked. Why couldn’t he be a jerk? “Seriously, Decker, what can I get you? We are busy, and I just…I don’t like you.”
“I didn’t need him before he showed up, and I don’t need him now. What the hell was I thinking letting him get close?”
Muttering to herself always fueled her anger and frustration but at the same time, it always helped her figure things out.
When she came to the turn in the road that would take her into the center of town, Rosie stopped. She loved the little town. She loved the quaintness of it, that it had small novelty shops, antique stores, the bar and grill, the coffee shop that wasn’t a chain but rather owned and operated by a couple of local moms, the tiny hole-in-the-wall art gallery featuring local artists, a local artisan jewelry-maker. It was home to her and if she ever felt love for anything or anyone outside of food, her diner and her family, it was this town and its residents.
Putting one foot in front of the other, she started walking again. Half a mile from the edge of downtown sat her diner. The lights glowed from inside and from what she could see, it was still pretty well packed with people. It was a 24-hour place and oddly enough, it kept a steady clientele at all hours, especially on the weekends.
Cool air hit her when she opened the door and went inside. A few patrons waved and said hello, including Blue, her best childhood friend. She was sitting at the end of the counter, eating a piece of cherry pie. It was Rosie’s mother’s recipe and one of the favorites. Another was the blackberry cobbler. Her banana pudding didn’t do too badly either.
Just thinking about banana pudding made her think of Decker, and she could feel the scowl take over her face. She didn’t want to think about him, not tonight, not anymore. She was done with him. She wanted him to fix her roof and leave. Heck, she wasn’t even sure she wanted him to fix the roof anymore. She’d find someone else to do it or damn, she’d leave it the way it was. She just wanted him gone.
As she passed through into the kitchen, she headed straight for the small walk-in cooler. She needed something to do and this was it. She’d inherited it from her mother. Cleaning out the fridge. The one in her house was spic-and-span, spotless and very tidy, this one though—this one could always use a good purging and organizing. And even if it didn’t, she’d do it anyway. It would keep her mind occupied and the cold would ease the heat still flowing through her blood that had nothing to do with the walk she just took and everything to do with him.
So, now, dear reader, you should go visit the following blogs by awesome authors and get their take on description: