Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,64

went to kneel in front of him, shuffling between his legs until he gave in and widened them. Once I was close, I placed my hands on his hips and kissed his belly.

“It’s so soft and so you. It means that even though you’re this genius baker who is sexy and gorgeous, there is a secret part of you that only I get to use as a pillow. I love your hard bits and your soft bits, and I want to get to know everything even better. Your ex was an ass, and I will never do that to you, and fuck, if I’m being honest, I only go to the gym because I’m so fucking lonely sometimes.”

That all sounded like nonsense as it spilled out, but I wasn’t teasing him, or laughing, I was being absolutely genuine, and it was absolutely true that time at the gym was nothing but a way to get more likes and comments, and mostly because staying in my huge place made me feel so damn lonely.

I hugged him closer then I buried my face against his warm skin and pressed kisses wherever I could. I was desperate for him to understand what was happening and waiting for him to shove me away.

But when he tangled his fingers in my hair and let out a sigh of contentment, another part of my heart filled with joy. I’m so sappy.

I’d forgotten how much I liked baking. I’d added more posts introducing people to the intricacies of baking and sue me if the wording I used was aimed at a younger age than my demographic. Erin was pissed, and I know that because she sent me a strongly worded email complete with something called a heat map of social interaction. Apparently, that map exposed me as breaking the barriers and that was not what I should be doing.

But I loved it. And of course I’d had some shit responses along with the positive. The creaming tutorial I’d put up on my channel last night had lewd remarks about me getting my shirt off, but I deleted the ones I saw and went through and clicked the heart next to each positive comment.

Maybe I could do something for kids, like a cookbook or a segment on social media. Not for money, not to sell kids versions of my adult T-shirts or products that would harm them with enough sugar content to rot their teeth or alcohol. No, this would be like a how to bake thing, and I could be funny and make it cute and make something different to the Justin I am who takes off his shirt and made jokes about erections.

Thing is, I hadn’t mentioned any of that to Erin because I know what she’d say, and I knew that I’d signed up for a few last things to add to my happy-with-life pot and that I needed to focus on the next few months.

But after that? All bets were off.

We’d moved onto the next filming for episode three, and only Clare, Brody, Ivan and me were left. I’m not sure Ivan’s heart was truly in it, and as I expected he was the one to leave us after his nod to the seventies flan collapsed in on itself. Just like Shauna, he had a reason to want to leave, and I didn’t blame him. He and Kristen had plans to visit more of the local area, and after his sound bites today we were saying goodbye to them both for the week until the final.

I’d come out as the week’s best baker, although some of that was due to Brody, who’d encouraged me with smiles and kisses in breaks and added unashamed affection. We kept it mostly to ourselves, but a flour fight halfway through the filming of the showcase, which ended up with him looking like a ghost, probably implied more than I thought it had. Somehow we’d slipped up just by being us, and my social media was blowing up.

Most of it was in a good way. It was labeled as cute that Brody and I were friends, and I even read a piece of torrid fan fiction that someone had written about the two of us, featuring doughnuts, KlecksoCream, and melted chocolate. Even better was that Brody read it to me last night, which ended up with blowjobs, cuddling, and the hottest goodnight kiss of my life.

Losing Ivan from round three was hard. Not just because Ivan was taking Kristen