As she tried to get her bearings, Ruby’s eyes landed on a display in the aisle. In the middle was a shiny red stand mixer. She wandered over to it, drawn by a sense of familiarity. The mixer almost looked like one her mother had had in the kitchen growing up, although this one was higher tech.
Suddenly, a memory came back to Ruby. She’d been eight years old, attempting to bake cookies for the first time. She’d had no idea what she was doing, and she’d immediately broken the stand mixer. After her mother had found out, she’d scolded Ruby for a solid ten minutes before taking her hand and teaching her how to bake cookies properly, from start to finish.
That single incident sparked her love of baking. Ruby grew up harboring a silly little dream of opening her own bakery, so she could share her creations with the world. That was what Ruby had loved the most about baking. For her, it was about making and sharing something that came from the heart, something real and genuine, complete with imperfections and flaws.
When had Ruby lost that love? It was one of those frivolous activities that she’d just lost interest in over time. No, that wasn’t true. She’d stopped baking because he had never approved of it. He’d never approved of her doing anything that didn’t serve his interests. He had snuffed out all Ruby’s wants and desires in favor of his own.
Ruby stared at the shiny red mixer intently. She knew exactly what she wanted to buy.
The timer on the oven dinged. Ruby opened it up and pulled out the tray of blueberry muffins, placing it on the counter next to the others. This batch looked a little overcooked, but it was better than her last attempts. It had been years since she’d done any baking, but she was slowly getting back into the rhythm of the process.
“What is going on here?”
Ruby jumped. Yvonne was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her arms crossed.
“Yvonne,” Ruby said. “You’re home early.” It was barely 6 p.m. Yvonne was usually still at work for another hour or two.
Yvonne’s disapproving eyes swept around the room. “Why does my kitchen look like it’s been hit by a tornado?”
Her description of the state of the kitchen was accurate. The counters were covered in flour, the sink filled with pans, utensils scattered everywhere. Plus, a shiny new stand mixer took up half the counter. Ruby had planned to clean everything up before Yvonne got home.
“Well, I was thinking about what you said the other night,” Ruby began. “About doing something for myself. I wasn’t sure where to start, so I went shopping, and while I was out, I remembered that I used to like to bake. So I decided I wanted to do some baking, but you don’t own any baking stuff, so I bought some.”
She looked at Yvonne. Yvonne was staring back at her, the irritation in her eyes replaced by amusement.
Ruby folded her arms across her chest. “You told me I could buy whatever I wanted.”
“I did.” Yvonne picked up a stray spatula. “And I meant it. But I tell you that you can buy anything, and you buy kitchen utensils?”
Ruby shrugged. “They’re very expensive utensils.” That stand mixer had cost a small fortune, but Yvonne was paying for it.
“I didn’t take you for the domestic type.”
“I’m not. I can’t cook to save my life, but baking is different. I’m not going to win any competitions, but I enjoy it. Plus, it gives me a way to kill time while you’re at work.”
“Oh?” Yvonne raised an eyebrow, her voice lowering. “So you’ve been sitting around every day, waiting for your Mistress to return home?”
Blood rushed up Ruby’s face. “I meant that I need more things to fill my days, that’s all.”
Yvonne stepped in close. Ruby found herself backed against the counter, the other woman’s hands at either side of her. Desire flickered deep within her.
“That’s disappointing,” Yvonne purred. “I think I like the idea of you waiting for me all day like a good little housewife, longing for me to come through the front door and fuck you right here in the kitchen.”
Ruby trembled. The heat between the two of them had only strengthened since that night at Lilith’s Den. It was as if Yvonne had finally stopped fighting the attraction she’d had toward Ruby from the moment they had met. This unrestrained side of Yvonne was even more intoxicating.
Yvonne brought her thumb up to stroke Ruby’s lip. A wave of lust washed over her.
“So,” Yvonne said. “How about a taste?”
Before Ruby could react, Yvonne reached around to grab one of the muffins. Reflexively, Ruby swatted Yvonne’s hand away from the hot muffin tin.
Yvonne’s mouth fell open. “Did you just slap me?”
Ruby grimaced. “Sorry! Those are too hot to eat.”
Yvonne didn’t respond, but the dark expression on her face made her annoyance clear.
Crap. “I didn’t mean to. My brothers, they were always trying to steal things I’d bake before they were cool. It was a reflex, I swear.”
“I am not one of your brothers,” Yvonne said firmly. “That’s no way to treat your Mistress.”
Ruby’s heart began to race. Despite Yvonne’s sharp tone, Ruby could feel the desire radiating from every inch of the other woman’s skin. She looked into Yvonne’s eyes and found a storm raging behind them wasn’t at all due to irritation.
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Ruby said softly.
Yvonne took Ruby’s chin in her fingers. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
Heat suffused Ruby’s body. What did Yvonne want? Ruby to grovel at her feet? She’d already done that once before.
“You have two choices,” Yvonne said. “You can write me a long, detailed letter, explaining just how sorry you are.” She paused. “Or, you can
