As soon as I step inside Dobb’s, I’m greeted with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon.
I look around the eclectic space.
There are glass display cases filled with cakes, cookies, and dozens of other sugary concoctions.
A few tables sit in a corner surrounded by mismatched wooden chairs. The walls are lined with framed photographs. Some are of the bakery’s interior, but many are of people.
I step closer to them to get a better look since there’s a line of people five deep waiting to be served.
“Can you imagine having thirteen kids?” A deep voice comes at me from the left. “The Shaws are amazing people, aren’t they?”
I glance over to see a man with graying temples. “The Shaws have thirteen kids?”
How the fuck did I not know that?
“And a few grandkids.” He huffs out a laugh. “I’ve been coming here weekly for years. I know them all by name.”
Without any urging on my part, he decides to prove that point. He starts rambling off names beginning with Elijah, then Gary, and Shirley. I can’t keep up, but still, I listen intently until he says it. He says the name I’ve been waiting to hear, “and there’s Trina and…”
Trina. Trina Shaw.
She’s one of thirteen kids.
I turn back to the photo I had my eye on before this guy interrupted me. It’s of a bunch of people, but the one who stood out to me when I first glanced at it is the same person I get to go home to tonight.
Trina, my wife and the woman I’m falling hard and fast for is front and center in a picture surrounded by people who resemble her. They all have smiles on their faces as they gaze at whoever was behind the camera.
It looks like the picture was taken in front of this place, judging by the red brick in the background.
“Every one of them took a turn working in the kitchen and behind the counter,” he goes on, oblivious to the fact that I’m focused solely on my wife’s image in the picture. “It must have been a hell of an experience growing up in this place surrounded by all that love. Herbert and Hermina Shaw are saints. They raised a group of amazing people and built up this bakery to what it is today.”
Normally, envy would charge through me when hearing about someone’s idyllic childhood and caring parents, but this time I’m grateful.
I’m grateful that Trina grew up in a home with people who loved her.
“Do yourself a favor and get a slice of the chocolate cake.” The guy standing next to me laughs. “You’ll be glad you did.”
I turn to face him again. “Thanks for the tip.”
My gaze trails to a woman standing behind the counter. I spot her resemblance to my wife right away. That has to be her sister.
I wandered in here looking for a dessert to surprise my wife with. I’m going to leave here with the knowledge that she’s part of a loving family.
Our pasts couldn’t be more different.
“You went to Dobb’s?” Trina’s voice cracks as she looks down at the pastry box on the kitchen island.
“I did.”
I don’t add anything, and she doesn’t respond, so I reach for her hand.
I wrap it in mine and draw it up to my chest. Holding it there, I lower my voice. “I saw pictures of you on the walls. You have a big family.”
Her blue eyes sear into me. “Did you meet anyone?”
“I saw Clara,” I say the name of the woman behind the counter.
When my turn came to order, she was chatting with a man who wanted to order a birthday cake, so a younger guy stepped up to help me. He wasn’t wearing a nametag and explained that he was a new hire. He dove deeper into that by sharing that he’s a senior in high school, and his mom has been a regular customer at the bakery for years.
Since he wasn’t related to my wife I didn’t stand around making small talk with him after I ordered an array of sugary treats to bring home to her, even though she likely sampled them all at some point in the past.
“My sister,” she whispers. “You didn’t tell her that I’m your wife, did you?”
If I didn’t care for her as much as I do, I might be pissed that she’s so deeply concerned about her family catching wind of our marriage, but I doubt that she’s told a soul outside the people we work with.
“She was busy with someone else, so a red-headed kid with freckles helped me.”
That brings a small smile to her lips. “He must be new. Did he do a good job? Was he friendly and polite?”
I huff out a laugh. “He was nervous as hell, but he got the order right. I see no need for him to be fired yet.”
“Clara never fires anyone.” She chuckles. “Her heart is too soft for that.”
I glance around to make sure Lloyd isn’t lurking around the corner, peering into the kitchen at us. When I’m confident the coast is clear, I place my hand on Trina’s chest between her breasts. “You have a soft heart too.”
She glances down. “Are you trying to cop a feel right now?”
I inch my hand to the left to cup her tit in my palm. I squeeze it through the silk of her blouse. “I am now.”
She drops her hand to grip my cock through my pants. It feels possessive in a way that makes me harden even more.
She leans forward to brush her lips against my neck. “I’ll race you to the bedroom for a quickie before dinner.”
Before she can say another word, I haul her over my shoulder and slap her round ass. “Quickies don’t exist in this marriage. Dinner can wait. I’m taking all the time I need.”
Chapter Forty
Trina
Graham touches his forehead to mine as he slowly undresses me. “You’re a wonder to me, Mrs. Locke.”
I don’t correct him.
There are moments, this one included when I want to be Mrs. Locke. I want to have the name, the bond, and a future with him that will last for eternity, but we have an agreement.
There is an end date to all of this.
The fake marriage, the very real sex, and the feelings that have been blossoming inside me since we exchanged vows have an expiry date.
I let my arms fall to my side after he’s stripped me of my blouse and bra. “How so?”
His hands move behind me to draw the zipper of my skirt down. “There’s so little that I know about you.”
I smile at that. “It works both ways. I don’t know anything about you.”
My skirt is on the floor now, a red puddle of fabric at my feet. I move to kick off my heels as he drops to his knees.
He skims his lips over the silk of my panties, stopping to breathe in. “Here’s a secret about me. I love the way you smell. I crave your taste.”
My eyelids flutter shut as he pulls the fabric of the panties to the side to slide his tongue over my slick folds.
“It hurts to move.” I cup a hand over my sex. “You were rough.”
Graham glances at me as he tugs on the bottom hem of the T-shirt he just put on. “You’re not complaining.”
He’s right. I’m not.
After he ate me to orgasm, he took me on the bed. I climbed on top of him, straddling him as I rode him through another orgasm.