Control Games (Game for Cookies Book 2) Read online

  Control Games

  Game for Cookies #2

  Allyson Lindt

  This book is a work of fiction.

  While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Allyson Lindt

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Acelette Press

  Blurb

  Julie is living her dream, opening a video-game themed cookie bouquet shop with her best friend. But it turns out even dreams come with stress and sleepless nights. Their primary investor, Dante, is as overbearing in real life as he is on his award-winning cooking show. On the other hand, he's sexy as hell, and his boyfriend, Christopher, is as kind as he is a gorgeous, drool-worthy geek of a guy.

  When the tension of trying to keep her business together threatens to tear Julie apart, Christopher's got a solution for teaching her to share the workload. If she can surrender control in the bedroom, it might help her delegate in the office.

  What starts as game where blindfolds and submission are the board pieces becomes more serious. Until Julie discovers that Dante and Christopher have kept a secret from her that shatters her trust, leaving their hearts and jobs one move away from game over.

  Other Books in this Series

  Seduction Games (Game for Cookies Book 1)

  For my eternal dragon

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Other Books in this Series

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter One

  Julie nestled her last mixing bowl in its spot in the kitchen cabinet, then scanned the room one final time. Spotless. Perfect. Everything tucked away where she wanted it. And all before five. Over the past few months, she’d discovered the biggest problem with living above the bakery she owned with her best friend Andi was that, at the end of the day, it was harder to drag herself away and head home.

  There was always just one more thing for Julie to do before she headed upstairs, to prep the place for its grand opening in two weeks. Always one more thing to do, to make sure everything was exactly the way she needed it to be.

  “I've been thinking...” Dante interrupted her moment of quiet bliss.

  And then there was this guy. She got the eye-rolling out of her system before facing him, and squelched the desire to ask if the thinking hurt. She was trying to learn to play nice with him. Mostly because his financial investment and top-ranked TV cooking show were the reasons she and Andi could expand like this. At least a little because Andi insisted Dante was a nice guy and Julie needed to give him a chance.

  She met his gaze. None of her decision to be kind had anything to do with the fact his spiky blond hair and piercing blue eyes stole her breath and sent vivid fantasies racing through her thoughts. Besides, Dante hadn’t said anything wrong tonight. Yet. “Thinking what?” she asked.

  “Chocolate and vanilla aren’t enough. We need at least one more flavor.”

  Again she held her tongue kept Andi’s advice in mind. If Julie wouldn’t snap at someone she liked for saying the things Dante did, he was probably being reasonable. Once upon a time, she respected him. It wasn’t just that he had a top-ranked cooking show. He’d taken his skill as a chef, turned it into a living, and used his fame and wealth to boost other businesses like hers and Andi’s. He invested and helped them grow and become something.

  Then Julie met the guy and discovered the asinine persona on the television translated to real life.

  “In time for initial filming,” he said before she could respond. “Unless you can’t bake a couple cookies in three days.”

  And there it was—the hint of disdain. The implication she wasn’t capable of doing her job. A twitch throbbed behind her right eye. The start of her next headache. “To whip up three thousand or so cookies? It’s plenty of time.” At least that many, in this amazing place. “To come up with a new recipe that meets my standards? Are you insane or just a sadist?”

  He made a noise that fell somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “They’re fucking cookies, and it’s not like they need artwork. Not yet. I’m only asking they be available as samples, when the cameras roll. I’m thinking chocolate chip.”

  Her headache amped up another tick. “I know you’re a busy guy, but if you’re going to take part in these conversations and make these decisions, you need to listen when I tell you things like we can’t use drop cookies in our bouquets. Or maybe you didn’t hear me the first dozen times I said it.” She and Andi had found their niche—custom-painted game-and-movie-characters on cookie bouquets. And unless they were making Jabba the Hut cookies, or his non-copyright-violating equivalent, Jebba the Gut, no blob-shaped cookie would fit the bill.

  “Then make rolled cookies with chocolate chips in them. Outside the box, doll. That’s your thing, right? I can’t do all the thinking for you.”

  Julie clenched her fist, to keep from grabbing the rolling pin on the counter and throwing it at him. “We’ve got less than two weeks.” She failed to keep the frustration from her voice. “Why did you wait to come to me with this?”

  “I was hoping, with the right nudging—especially after the chocolate conversation—you’d come up with it on your own, Ms. I’m-a-Cordon-Bleu-Trained-Baker-who-doesn’t-need-input-from-anyone.”

  The snideness in his words pushed every last one of her buttons, and she gritted her teeth until her jaw ached. Being furious about his tone was easier than admitting it hurt that someone she used to respect didn’t care for her skill. She forced out the words in a slow, even tone. “This is the kind of thing you don’t hint at or leave until the last minute.”

  “You don’t want help, then?”

  “I’ve got it just fine—thank you very much.” She didn’t. She had no idea how she was going to pull this off. It wasn’t that a new cookie recipe was a complex thing, but finding one that held up to the frosting Andi painted on, and tasted good and didn’t crumble in transit... That was a different story.

  No reason to let him know that. The night already promised to be long, with this latest information; she wasn’t going to let his attitude add an extra kick of irritation.

  So much for getting out of work on time.

  * * * *

  Dante intended to suggest the new flavor idea, apologize for not thinking of it sooner, and help Julie brainstorm a solution. He still could. Take Christopher’s advice about trying to get along with her, apologize, and
set this right.

  But God fuck it, if she wasn’t infuriating sometimes. Most of the time. She stretched his every last nerve along a tightrope and had the audacity to look incredible and unapologetic in the process. Like now. Pink flushed her cheeks, and her lips were drawn into a thin line that made him want to kiss away her irritation until she was weak in the knees.

  “Great. Glad it’s under control.” The words came out laced with more sarcasm than he intended. Her cringe was subtle. Serves her right. He didn’t feel the venom he needed to believe the thought. “I’m out of here for the night. We’ll pick it up in the morning.”

  She crossed her arms and stepped back. “We won’t do anything. I’ve got this.”

  “Of course you do. Good night.”

  She probably flipped off his back as he walked out of the kitchen. He didn’t care. He was focused on calming breaths. Inhale deep, hold it, and exhale. As a business idea, this setup was brilliant. Julie and Andi had the perfect combination of gimmick and quality with their product. As a business partner, Julie sent his blood pressure through the roof. Over and over and over. Stubborn, unyielding, and always needing things her way.

  Not to mention gorgeous, intelligent, and quick-witted, but if he thought about her good points, he’d feel bad about the way he left things.

  Dante climbed into his car and pointed toward the house he and Christopher had rented for the duration of their stay. Dante didn’t know what was worse about Julie—her refusal to ask for help, or how gorgeous she looked, even angry. It wasn’t that her rage made her more attractive. With deep brown eyes, dark hair, and the kind of gorgeous, full curves years of baking honed, she was striking enough her fury didn’t detract from it.

  She was also more stubborn than his ex-wife, and the last thing he needed was a temper to match his own. By contrast, another reason he loved Christopher was that he was Dante’s pillar of sanity amid the chaos.

  Dante navigated the traffic on auto-pilot. They’d been staying in Chicago for the last couple of months—plenty of time for him to familiarize himself with the layout. Besides, Christopher grew up here and had given Dante a fantastic tour from a local’s point of view. They’d picked a place outside the metro area, in Schaumburg instead of downtown Chicago because Christopher insisted it was far enough to keep them sane when they wanted quiet, but close enough for them to still reasonably commute.

  Dante hoped thoughts of his boyfriend—tall, dark haired, and better built than an I.T. guy had the right to be—would take his mind off the irritation Julie caused. Instead, they were a reminder of the tension at home. Never severe. Just the underlying hum that things weren’t going well between Dante and his network; Christopher would rather see him walk away than put up with the shit.

  The reminder led to Julie and Christopher becoming part of a single image in Dante’s head. Some couples were driven apart by jealousy. However, while there was always a healthy whisper of doubt in the back of Dante’s mind when he and Christopher brought a third into their playtime, for the most part he loved watching Christopher with someone else. Seeing the man he loved take control in the bedroom. Experiencing new kinks and desires with each new shared lover.

  As frustrating as Julie was, Dante very much appreciated the fantasy of Christopher stripping her down, pinning her to the wall, and sliding inside her. Imagining her cries of pleasure as Christopher drove his thick cock deeper with each thrust. Her smooth, pale skin glistening with exertion.

  Dante’s dick hardened, straining against his jeans and demanding attention. He bit the inside of his cheek, to drag himself from the visuals and back to his commute. He couldn’t rid his mind of the notion, and while he wished it starred someone other than her, that didn’t stop the idea from sliding over every inch of his senses. By the time he pulled into the driveway, he itched to slide down his zipper and jerk off right there.

  He had a better idea. One that would make the release that much sweeter and far better than taking matters into his own hands.

  * * * *

  Christopher leaned back in the kitchen chair and rubbed his eyes, to restore moisture. He didn’t have to take a contract job during this trip; the fee he billed for installing the security cameras at L&D Cookies was better than his standard rate. But the work didn’t take much time, and he could only play so many video games waiting for Dante to get back each day, before his mind numbed and he couldn’t process basic language anymore.

  It hadn’t always been that way. Once upon a time, he was more a part of Dante’s creative process. They started this TV-chef thing as a team, and Christopher hated that Dante had drifted away from that part of their connection. So Christopher picked up spare contracts when he needed to pass the time.

  The deadbolt on the front door thunked open, and Christopher couldn’t help his smile when Dante walked into the house. Speaking of...

  “Help me understand”—Dante’s stripped off his shoes and shed his keys—“what it is you see in that woman?”

  This must be about Julie. It usually was, these days. Creative, attractive, and the current bane of Dante’s existence. Christopher would rather get to know every inch of her—remove her clothes a tantalizing piece at a time, see if she’d surrender her tight grasp on control once he had her naked—than listen to her argue with Dante. “What did she do now? Or rather, what do you think she did now?” Christopher asked.

  “I don’t know. Blah, blah, blah. I’m right, and you’re wrong. Blah, blah...”

  Christopher gave Dante his full attention.

  “God, I’d like to watch you fuck her,” Dante said, meeting his gaze, heat smoldering in his eyes.

  “I never should have told you I thought she was attractive.” Christopher didn’t mean it. The confession slipped out one night, while he was trying to convince Dante to give the woman a break, but its being out there benefited Christopher as much as it was used against him. Dante’s expression said this would be an instance of the former. “Besides, I don’t think she’s the type of woman who’s going to let you gag her, so you’d still have to hear her talk,” Christopher said.

  Dante closed the distance between them but stopped out of reach. “Your cock in her mouth would have a similar effect.”

  “You know you’re a fucking asshole, don’t you?” Teasing lined Christopher’s words, but he was serious. Humiliation wasn’t his kink. That didn’t stop the thought of Julie’s lips wrapped around his shaft from assaulting him. He imagined her dropping to her knees, taking him in her mouth, and groaning against his skin as she sucked.

  “Call me all the names you want. You’re picturing it.”

  “And?” Christopher recognized the playful jab in Dante’s retort. The light-hearted tone. The fact none of it was meant to insult. This was much better than the arguments they’d had recently about Dante’s job. That Christopher wasn’t happy being left out of business decisions. That being relegated to IT guy not having a say in the show he and Dante created, was draining his brain. At least when they were fucking, that tension vanished in the background.

  Dante leaned over, lips millimeters from Christopher’s. “And your protests don’t carry the same impact when you’re already hard at the thought.” Dante knelt, and dragged down the zipper on Christopher’s jeans. When he worked Christopher’s dick free, Christopher hissed at the contrast of a cool hand on his hot skin.

  When they’d met, Dante would have been more likely to give up cooking than vocalize his desires. It was part of the reason Rachel and Dante sought out Christopher, in his old profession as a sex therapist. It took a little coaching, and a lot of incredible hands-on practice, and Dante developed a new comfort level with taking about his fantasies.

  “It’s all about consent.” Christopher’s voice wavered when Dante dragged a thumb over the head of his cock. “I’d enjoy it if she did.” His playful retort faded into a groan.

  Dante tightened his grip around Christopher’s shaft, stroking at a steady pace. “I’m sure. Then, if you w
ere there early one morning, and she didn’t realize it, and wandered downstairs in just a T-shirt and panties, you’d wait for her to make the first move.”

  Christopher hissed at the combination of mental image and physical contact. “I don’t like the idea of leaving that up to fate. I’d have to at least prompt her. Make sure she knew there were a lot of possibilities on the table. Or the counter. Or bent over the back of a chair.”

  “Especially with that gorgeous ass on display? Begging to be slapped?”

  Flame seared across Christopher’s skin at the idea. “Or sliding up behind her, dragging a finger along the elastic, and teasing her until she was soaked and begging for release.”

  “She argues someone could come in at any minute, and you ask if she wants you to stop. The shake of her head tells you all you need to know. You need to be inside her. She whimpers and says yes, Sir.”

  Fantasy blurred with reality, merging at the one point they had in common. Christopher wanted something more tactile and full-body. Need, dark and thick, pulsed inside him. He pulled Dante to his feet and knotted his fingers in Dante’s hair. Christopher kissed him hard, crushing their mouths together until teeth cut into lips, swallowing Dante’s groans.

  He yanked Dante’s head back to look him in the eye. “This isn’t enough,” Christopher growled.

  Dante’s smirk vanished behind wide-eyed desire. “Whatever you want.”

  “I’ll figure that out as we go.” Christopher pushed Dante toward the bedroom and the bed, making a quick stop at the dresser to grab the lube. He kissed along the back of Dante’s neck, losing himself in the familiar scent of baked sugar mixed with faint cologne.

  Dante’s well-painted story was gone, replaced with groans. He leaned back into Christopher, head tilted to the side to receive more attention.

  Christopher fisted his own cock, stroking slowly. He trailed his tongue along the edge of Dante’s ear. “Pants off, and kneel on the mattress,” Christopher said.

  Dante nodded and complied. Christopher squeezed a dollop of lube into his hand, and glided his fingers along Dante’s ass. Dante gasped at the first touch of room-temperature liquid. The sounded blended into a groan when Christopher teased his opening with slick fingers.