Cake Love: All Things Payne

I grab her frosted covered hand and take the ring to hold up to her. Despite the layers of icing and cake crumbs, the one carat diamond that used to be my mom’s still sparkles in the fluorescent lighting.

"Because of your brain I had to hire you. Your brain then introduced me to your vagina, which then led me to your heart. That is what I fell for the hardest. I haven't been the same since. You ruined me for anyone else. To answer your questions, what happens when I get scared again, I'll just have to talk to you about it. Because if I run, where will I go? No woman will ever compare to you. I love you Morgana. I want to be with you, always. I may have only known you for six months, but when you walked away from me back in April, I knew I never wanted to lose you again. When a man knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with the most beautiful woman in the world, he does whatever he can to make himself worthy of her and put a ring on it. Please say you will marry me."

She holds out her left hand and I push the ring onto her left finger. It is a bit loose but a jeweler can easily fix that. Morgana still hasn't said a word; her gaze is focused on the ring. Finally, her eyes lift to mine and she smirks.

"Well, well, well Mr. Payne, how the tides have turned. Now I am the executive with you kneeling before me, begging me." She slips her finger into her mouth, sucking the frosting away; her words and actions taunting me.

"Morgana, I just—“

“—That’s Ms. Drake to you.” I start to get up but her hand clenches my shoulder, pushing me back down. I stumble and fall on my ass. She slides off her chair and straddles my legs, pinning me down.

"Morgana I just asked..." She waves her finger in the air stopping me, correcting me. “Sorry, Ms. Drake, I just asked you to marry me and you are playing games.”

I swear her eyes sparkle at that moment; maybe the light hit them as she cocked her head and smirked at me.

"How am I supposed to answer you, Mr. Payne, with my mouth full?"





Chapter 12

Payne’s Anti-Rule 6: Never Assume You are in Control

There is nothing in her mouth. In fact, she’s licking her lips at me, and biting down on her bottom lip as her eyes scan my body. Is she avoiding the question? Playing some mind game so I will be too distracted to notice? I'm about to ask her but I freeze as her fingers brush over the belt buckle to my pants.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Mr. Payne, obviously you got rid of your personal shopping assistant when you downsized because this belt doesn't go with your pants. In fact,” she pauses dramatically, biting her bottom lip as if deep in thought, “let’s just remove all this." Morgana unzips my pants and pushes everything down as I mindlessly lift my ass off the carpet to help her. Since she’s still seated on my legs, she stops at mid-thigh. Captain Cock springs forth; giving her the salute he has wanted to since she walked in here.

Her hand wraps around the base, lightly stroking it. I lean back on my elbows and groan as she taunts me with her hand.

Morgana moves from my legs and is now on all fours hovering over me. My eyes wander to her cleavage, her blouse falling enough to show her white lace bra. She firms her grip on my shaft and I focus on her glistening lips as they are less than an inch from my tip.

Her head turns up to face me and she is the vision of every fantasy I have ever had. The loose bun, with tendrils falling around her face, the dark glasses resting on the tip of her nose, her lavish tits almost falling out of her sexy business suit, and her mini skirt riding up her ass displaying the lacy edge of her sheer dark stockings.

"Fuck me," I whisper, drinking her in.

"You are asking a lot of me, Mr. Payne. First, you want me to answer your question and now you want me to fuck you? Make up your mind. Perhaps I have a question for you. It is a big commitment you are asking of me."

My head bobs rapidly. "Yes, yes, anything. Ask me anything."

Her tongue darts out quickly licking up the pre-cum that has formed on the tip. My head falls back from the heavy ache between my thighs.

"What kind of cake will be served at our wedding?"

I gaze back into her eyes; she is serious. Her hand is becoming needier, pumping my cock faster. My mind is a blur as images of cake fly around in my head. Before long, they morph into her popping out of them, naked. And now, I imagine she’s covered in frosting as I lick it off of her.

"Chocolate," I blurt out, praying that was the right answer and she’ll reward me by putting her lips on my swollen head.

"You are getting warm, Mr. Payne. However, that is still too general. Is it chocolate cake, or icing, or both? Are there decorative flowers or a simple modern design? How many tiers? A wedding cake is the holy grail of all cakes. If I marry you, Mr. Payne, I must know how good you are at knowing the true art of cake."

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