Chapter 70 Confession No. 51: Sweet Tooth
Chapter 70 Confession No. 51: Sweet Tooth
She wanted to humiliate her enemy’s sugar daddy until he made her melt like warm frosting on his tongue.
PART 1 — SUGARGLAZE SINNER
Keira didn’t come for the cupcakes.
She came to ruin someone’s perfect little setup.
The soft bell over the glass door chimed as she stepped into Dolce & Crave, the most obscenely expensive patisserie in town. Everything inside shimmered in soft cream and gold the ceiling hung with chandeliers that didn’t belong anywhere near a bakery. But Keira wasn’t distracted by the pastries. She had a different craving.
She was here to meet the man who had been spoiling Vanessa the same Vanessa who had humiliated her in front of the entire student council, laughed at her vintage shoes, and flaunted a designer lifestyle paid for by someone she only referred to as Mr. R.
Keira’s phone buzzed.
Vanessa: Going to see Daddy Hope your thrift store doesn’t close too early today, peasant x
Keira’s fingers curled around her phone. Not because of the insult she was used to those. But because she had found out who this so-called Daddy was. And today, she planned to look him in the eye and let him know exactly who Vanessa truly was.
What she didn’t expect was him.
He wasn’t some old sleazebag in wrinkled khakis and a gold chain. He was dangerously handsome. Late 40s, maybe early 50s. Broad-shouldered, sharply dressed in rolled sleeves, ink peeking out from under his cuff, and a streak of flour dusting the side of his dark slacks.
He stood behind the counter, half-turning to give a smoldering glance as he wiped his hands on a pristine cloth. And God those hands.
“You’re not here for the pastries,” he said, voice rough like sanded velvet. “You’re here for something else.”
Keira froze. Her plan evaporated.
He set down the dish towel. His eyes raked her from boots to neckline slow, deliberate, as if he were tasting her already.
“Vanessa sent you?”
“She doesn’t know I’m here,” Keira shot back, lifting her chin.
“Then this’ll be fun.”
He came around the counter, boots tapping softly on the marble floor. He smelled like caramel, espresso, and sin. He towered over her but didn’t loom. He savored.
“What’s your name?” he asked, brushing a strand of her curly hair back like he had every right to.
“Keira.”
“Mmm. Pretty. I’m Rafael. You can call me Sir.”
She should’ve slapped him. But instead her thighs clenched, breath caught.
“What do you want, Keira?”
“I want to know why you spoil girls like Vanessa. She treats people like dirt.”
“Ah.” He tilted his head. “You’re jealous.”
“Of her?” she scoffed.
“No.” He smirked, slow and dark. “Jealous that she gets to kneel for me. Jealous that she gets my attention. Jealous that I haven’t fed you a single bite yet.”
Keira’s lips parted, stunned. Was this happening?
Rafael leaned in, voice lower. “You walked in here with fire. Good. I like girls who test their limits.”
And then, he stepped back snapped his fingers and two staff members exited through a side door, leaving them completely alone.
“My bakery. My rules,” he said. “Want to play, sugar?
PART 2 — THE COUNTER OFFER
Keira didn’t know whether to slap him or let him feed her sins by the spoonful.
“You think I want you?” she snapped, though her knees trembled like mousse beneath a hot spoon.
Rafael leaned against the marble counter, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “You came here with fire. Let’s not pretend you don’t want to burn.”
His presence was a storm steady, bold, intoxicating. She could smell sugar and spice and something older, darker, behind his cool exterior. She had seen men like him in books, in fantasies, but never this close.
Rafael didn’t move. He just reached into a drawer, pulled out a gold tin of dark chocolate ganache, cracked the lid and dipped a spoon.
“Let me show you why Vanessa won’t stop coming back.”
She should’ve walked away. But her feet betrayed her, slowly stepping closer until the scent of the chocolate hit her full force rich, warm, wicked.
He raised the spoon.
“Open,” he commanded, his voice edged in silk and iron.
Her lips parted before she could argue.
The ganache hit her tongue like sin. Dark, smooth, dangerously addictive.
“Good girl,” he murmured, wiping the edge of her lip with his thumb. “You taste better than she ever did.”
Keira gasped, heat blooming up her spine. “You did you just”
“She talks. You listen. That’s the difference.” Rafael leaned forward. “Do you want to earn what she’s been flaunting?”
“What do you mean?” Her voice came out breathless.
“I’ll give you everything I gave her. The cards. The trips. The access. But only if you make one thing clear.”
He moved around her, pressing in from behind, hands on the cool marble as he caged her between him and the counter.
“That you're mine now. Not hers. Not anyone’s little charity project. Mine.”
Keira swallowed hard, thighs pressing together. “Why me?”
“Because you walked in here with nothing but spite and hunger and still made me hard in thirty seconds flat.”
She moaned softly, unintentionally, shame colliding with desire.
“Didn’t think I noticed?” he said against her ear. “You bit your lip. You watched my hands. You're aching.”
“I hate her,” Keira whispered. “I hate everything she represents.”
“Then take it from her,” Rafael said. “Everything.”
His hand slipped down her hip to her inner thigh, lifting her gently onto the marble counter.
“No panties?” he growled, eyes flashing. “Good girl came ready.”
“I didn’t”
“Shhh.” He pressed a sugared strawberry to her lips. “No more talking. Just taste. And feel.”
Then his mouth was on her.
The bakery was all glass walls and mirrors anyone could see in, but no one dared interrupt. Because Rafael had locked the doors. Pulled the blinds. And the only thing on his menu now was Keira.
He teased her with frosting, dripped caramel over her belly, trailed his tongue up her skin like a man starved. Every lick, every graze of his teeth was a silent command: forget Vanessa. Forget shame. Forget your rules.
This wasn’t a sugar daddy.
This was a sugar devil and Keira was already burning.