Judge Me by Abby Knox (any book recommendations TXT) 📗

cream horn. But not tonight. I want your first time to be special. Just be patient, a little bit longer.”

Chapter Eight

Phillip

These people look like they’ve seen a ghost.

But it’s just me. I’m the specter of expert bread baking, and today is Bread Day.

None of these contestants had better deliver anything less than perfection, or it’s going to be destruction come judgment time.

Except for Chloe. By her own admission, she’s going to fail this round with flying colors. I have an entire particular type of judgment waiting for her, and only her.

But that will have to wait until tomorrow, after Cake Day.

I do the maths in my head, and that’s thirty hours away. Good god, how will I last that long?

What was I thinking, going to her room last night?

And now my willy threatens to destroy my trousers if I don’t set it free.

I explain the rules: each baker must produce a 3-D work of art with their bread. Chloe, of course, is the only one jumping up and down with excitement at her workstation.

Today, she wears a frilly pinstripe apron, and her hair is twisted up into two buns, fastened with sparkly barrettes. Her crop top, paired with an extra-short plaid skirt, makes her appear much younger than she is. She’s aiming for schoolgirl bombshell, just to twist the knife in my side. She’s mocking me over my concerns about our age difference. While she works, I see the softness of her hips just out over the top of her waistband. I want so badly to grab onto that cushion, bend her over her workstation and take her from behind, I have to bite my tongue. Firmly. I’m equal parts frustrated and annoyed. If she wants to torture a caged man, she’s doing it exactly right.

I have to take a walk to cool off. I might have to jump in the lake.

“Phillip!” the director calls after me, and I know why. I’m supposed to be available to provide “talking head” footage about the contest and what I’m expecting. There’s loads of time for that after I get some relief.

I stand in the shower for the second time this morning, gritting my teeth, my eyes rolling back in my head, as I grip my cock with thoughts of her. She’s done it now. The image of her in that outfit and her silly space buns has done me in. She knows full well what she’s doing. When she bent over to turn on her oven, legs spread wide for my benefit, I could see the entire crotch of her wet knickers.

Finishing alone in the shower feels like anything but finished. I’m not satisfied, and I won’t be until that pretty little petal is riding my cock. Until I’m filling her up with my cum.

I asked her to be a good girl today, and look what she’s done to me.

I’ve yanked myself to completion, and I’m still frustrated. All I see is those soft, pouty lips. I can still feel them. My body remembers Chloe’s every soft curve and valley pressed against me.

Pull yourself together, man. You promised her that her first night would be special, and it damn well better be. Now get back on the set and do what you do.

I have to do three takes with the director before he’s satisfied with my talking head segment. Happily, I remember why I’m here. The remaining hours of watching the contestants make bread turns out to be fun. This is what I am all about, after all.

Soon, the aroma of fresh baking bread fills the ballroom, and I’m in my element, being extra careful to avoid any physical contact with Chloe. Every time I come near her, her spark threatens to give us away.

Titters from the other side of the ballroom draw my attention to her, despite my efforts. I glance over and see two of the contestants gathering around her, giggling about something. I desperately want to know, but then again, maybe I don’t. The one male contestant looks like he’s hovering a little too close to Chloe for my comfort. Before I can stop myself, I eat up the distance and stand with my shoulder between him and Chloe.

With my most professional tone, I tell him, “So glad everyone seems to be finished with their breads. Have you tidied your stations?”

He casts me a guilty look and gets to work cleaning the layer of flour from his countertops.

Chloe whispers behind me, “Was that necessary?”

Over my shoulder, I quietly reply, “It is if I’m going to keep you in line.”

Chloe slides in close, reaching between my arm and torso, and drops a utensil into the sink. Her breath warms the side of my neck as she whispers, “Yes, Daddy.”

Oh boy, is she going to get it.

Chapter Nine

Chloe

“What is…that?”

It’s judging time, and Phillip looks incredulous at my creation.

“I think it’s obvious.”

Phillip and Georgianne are agape at the thirteen-inch baguette protruding straight up in the air from a base of two large buns.

“Really?” Phillip asks me.

Georgianne cocks her head to the side. “I don’t get it. Is it abstract? An upside-down tree or something?”

“It’s my best guess at Phillip’s penis, ma’am.”

I’m blushing beet red despite my brazenness. Phillip looks like he might blow a gasket.

“Your…best guess,” he says, blue irises darkening. I lick my lips and stare right back at him.

Best guess, my foot. I know exactly how big it is, and I’ve thoroughly considered every ridge from my study of it in the dark.

“Yes, sir.”

His nostrils flare. His brows knit together. Oh, I’ve done it now. Phillip is furious. And I’m shaking in anticipation of what he might do.

Thank god, I’m the final entry; he’s already tasted the others. “Let’s have it, then.”

He winces as his co-host gingerly slices through the base and hands him a slice.

I offer, “Perhaps you want to just try the tip first?”

The other contestants cackle, unable to hold back anymore.

Georgianne seems unaffected, which kind