“Rod Wolfe? Is that his stage name?”
“Believe it or not, Roderick Wolfe is his real name. The guy was destined to be a rocker.”
“No kidding. What was your part in the group?”
“I was on base. Rod, Jace and I were also backup vocals. We broke all the rules and we got our fair share of attention for it.”
“I can see it,” she flashes me a flirty smile.
She’s absolutely delectable.
“A few years into our career, Jace’s older brother Jagger had to step in as our manager when we found out the one who was managing us was screwing us blind. That’s when we discovered Jagger was more than just a creative type. He assembled a mean team of lawyers that went after our former manager. It wasn’t pretty, but in the end, we got a lot of the money back.”
“Wow. So you were famous?”
“We had our fans.”
“Did you do the whole sex, drugs and rock and roll thing?” she laughs.
“We were good at being bad boys.”
Were we ever.
She cocks an eyebrow. “I see. So the responsible father act is recent,” she laughs.
“It’s freshly acquired,” I can’t help but laugh as well.
“I assume Random Misconception no longer makes music?”
“You can’t pull the wool over your eyes. You’re right. I no longer make music, but I’m still in the industry. Six years ago, I launched my own record company and I started doing something I swore I’d never do.”
“What’s that?”
“As the exec of a record label, I had to start wearing suits,” I sigh.
“It’s a good thing you wear them so well,” she says.
“Stop that.”
“Don’t play coy with me, Holt. You know you look fucking hot in that suit,” she borrows my words.
I truly didn’t see that coming.
I roar in laughter.
It doesn’t take her long to join me.
Since the music is turned down low in the lounge, we attract a few curious stares.
I’m glad to see she doesn’t care.
“You’re sharp,” I tell her when I’m able to find my composure again.
“A required skill to making some of the best donuts in the city.”
“It goes without saying.” I play along.
“So now that I know about your former rock star career, you still haven’t told me how you’re connected to Vickie,” she challenges.
“She’s one of the artists on my label.”
“You’re pulling my leg.” She’s dumbfounded.
“I don’t make it a habit of lying to pretty girls.”
“Oh my God! She’s one of my favorite artists. She has talent coming out of her yin-yang.”
I laugh. “You’re right. I was lucky with Vickie. Had I hesitated, I would’ve missed the boat. I discovered her YouTube videos in the midst of her trying to get on one of the multiple talent TV shows. I scooped her up right before she received her first audition letter. There was no competition.”
“You have an excellent ear.”
“It’s a professional hazard,” I wink.
“So you don’t only focus on rock musicians?” she asks.
“No. I cross over. It’s all about the talent and the artist’s ability to seduce an audience. I leave country music and rap to other record labels who have perfected the art of promoting those types of music.”
“That’s amazing. Here I thought you were just a regular guy, but no, you know Vickie Sky!”
“So the rest of my story didn’t have as much of an effect on you?” I ask.
She teeters her head from left to right as if she’s pondering on my question. “Kudos on the music career and the record label, but we’re talking about Vickie Sky here.”
We both laugh.
“What a small world,” I say, drawing a circle around the room with my index finger.
“I know, right?” she smiles up at me.
“This is the last place I ever thought I’d bump into you.”
“You and me both,” she says.
“So here we are, the baker extraordinaire and the music exec,” I say with a nod.
She places a delicate hand against her chest. “I prefer to think of myself as a donut dominatrix considering how fearlessly I can whip batter.” She attempts to sound serious despite the smile stretching her lips.
“Donut dominatrix?”
Oh, I’m flying half-mast now.
“Yes.”
“What a title. Pretty creative,” I laugh, my tone teasing.
“Innovative thinking is what sets me apart,” she volleys.
“That would explain the kick-ass tux.” My smile widens and I’m pretty sure she can read the mischief in my eyes. “Where do you hide your whip, Mistress?”
“I appreciate the level of respect in your tone,” she says, lifting her chin up.
I love that she’s willing to play along.
“It’s only right.” I’m trying really hard to hold back a laugh.
“It’s a trade secret.”
“Ah, I see. Would you be kind enough to share that with me, Mistress?”
“Are you worthy of me telling you?” she asks with the utmost seriousness.
Fucking hot baker.
“My fate lies in your hands.”
She folds her lower lip between her teeth. “I don’t know if I have what it takes to continue this,” she admits.
“You were on a roll.”
“I was just feeding off of you.”
I move closer. “You don’t fool me, Everly. Behind the cloud of sugar, I think you’re a deviant. Perhaps you haven’t met your match yet… until now, that is.”
“And you think you’re a suitable match?” she asks, daringly.
I don’t answer her question. Instead, I say, “I have my own trade secret.”
“Do you?”
“Yup. Want to hear it?”
“Sure. Why not?”
The sly smile she flashes—one full of audacity and amusement—causes my cock to swell.
“I’m quite proficient at getting a donut dominatrix—specifically one who rocks a tux like you do—to bend to my will.” I allow for a pregnant pause. “And I mean that literally.”
“Oh.”
“I think you’d make a willing victim, Everly.” My voice is thick.
With her eyes half-lidded, she licks her bottom lip.
Damn.
My nostrils flare at the seductive sight.
“Oh,” she repeats.
“You’ve been warned,” I flash her a huge grin. “But I wouldn’t make it easy on you.”
It’s her turn to move closer. “What do you mean?”
I caught you in my web.
“I’d make you beg.”
She lets out a little laugh and rolls her eyes. “I don’t beg.”
“You’d have to beg for it.”
“Puh-lease. I don’t—”
I inch closer, completely obstructing her view of everyone who surrounds us. With our eyes locked, I place my fingers underneath her chin and tilt her head way back. I lean down, my nose brushing against her temple.