I think we all need a bit of spicing up on a Monday and today I have the perfect thing for you. Spiced Vanilla is now available from Total-E-Bound as a stand alone release. If you’ve not yet read it (it’s already featured in Night of the Senses) rush on over and get yourself a taste of sweet, sexy domination.
Emma hadn’t stepped out of her flat in six months. When she did it was the smell of a local patisserie that lured her down the street. Every day she walked to Jacques to admire the cakes and enjoy their scent, then she discovered Jack.
Jack, the patisserie owner and baker is just the dominant, commanding man she wants, but can she learn to accept her submissive nature? Will she indulge her appetite for sexual spice and ignore her good girl guilt or will she resist the temptation and regret it forever?
And now here’s a little taste of what you’ll find inside!
BUY Spiced Vanilla NOW – £2.49
“No, a promise is a promise. Any cake you like. Choose.”
“Oh, well, can I have a slice of the cheesecake? I’ve been fantasising about your cheesecake for so long. I’ll take it home, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay, but watching you eat it is my favourite bit, you know. I don’t get to see people enjoying my cakes enough. Especially if you’ve been fantasising about it.”
My stomach was too full of butterflies to swallow even a mouthful, though I really did want to please him.
“Not today I’m afraid, Jack. My stomach couldn’t take it.”
“All right, I’ll box you up a slice. Take a seat, do. Would you like a drink?” I shook my head, and his brow crinkled a little.
“How’s business been today?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Oh, not bad, not bad,” he replied, “I had a good morning anyway. It’s been dead this afternoon. Here, let me take your coat.”
I undid the buttons on my sensible, woollen coat. It looked a bit past its best, though it had been expensive when I bought it all that time ago. It still kept me warm, and as autumn was rolling in, I needed it against the bitter cold wind and the freezing rain that came in unexpected bursts through the end of summer.
I did have a cat, though it spent most of its time outside, and I was pretty sure it had two or more homes, and it hadn’t puked up at all. I’d just taken a very long time deciding what to wear.
It was too cold to wear anything particularly revealing, not that I owned anything particularly revealing. As a teacher, I had learnt to dress conservatively, especially with seventeen year old boys in the mix. I did find a deep, dark orange top with a long floaty hem and a deep V of cleavage that covered up my tummy nicely and brought attention to my abundant breasts. I’d paired it with a long, heavy brown corduroy skirt that came down to my ankles and covered the tops of my boots. I felt pretty sexy, especially as I wore my favourite red lace underwear underneath.
“Orange is a good colour on you,” he said, as he walked back into the shop, and I blushed.
“Compliments the creamy colour of your skin.”
I almost felt the words caressing the exposed flesh at the V of my top. I bit my lip and surreptitiously rubbed my thighs together. This man drove me crazy with lust, and he’d not even said anything that intimate.
“I don’t know how you manage to work here day in and day out. I’d be eating all the stock,” I said. “Just the delicious smell is enough to make my mouth water.”
The air was dense with vanilla, cream and chocolate with that special light air of sweet baking that any baker will tell you lingers long after the cake in question has been cooked.
“I do my fair share of tasting,” he replied, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. He smiled. “But I enjoy profit far more.”
“It seems a crime to eat these. They’re all such works of art.”
“You flatter me.” I was rewarded by the light flush to his cheeks. “I’m not that good.”
“Oh, stop with the false modesty. You could display these in an art gallery, and people would pay just to look at them and smell them.”
“Ah, but if you do not touch them or taste them you are missing out on most of the sensation.”
His eyes seemed to have darkened to the colour of cooked spinach and instead of being focused on his cakes they were fixed firmly on the pale mounds of my breasts.
“Oh, well, yes, they taste divine,” I replied, in a fluster.
“I bet they do,” he quipped and cocked an eyebrow. I blushed not just on my cheeks. It leaked down and suffused my chest, too.
“Which is your favourite?” I asked, directing my gaze from his darkened eyes and towards the cake display beside us.
“Oh, it’s so hard to choose.” His voice purred, but the softness was belied by the sheer power of his tone. “I am a fan of chocolate,” he said, “and fresh fruit. I like to mix them with cream and soft sponge and maybe just the sweetest, smallest touch of exotic spice. The new, the exciting, the just discovered are my favourite cakes to create.”
“You’re very talented.” I did not see him take a step, but he seemed so much closer to me when I looked back towards him. Had I moved? I was confused and a little hypnotised by his gaze and just as I thought his lips would fall down to mine, the bell on the door jingled.
I jumped. He just smiled sardonically and transferred his attention to the customer. Lust pounded through my bloodstream, desperate to get out. I took a shuddering breath, and as Jack bent to box up the lady’s cupcakes, he winked in my direction.
Now talking of feedback, what is your favourite cake to treat yourself to now and then? I, like Emma, am partial to a slice of cheesecake. All soft creamy and velvety with contrasting biscuity, buttery and crunchy base. Yum.