by Marika Ray
I pulled back and swiped my thumb across the dusting of white sugar on the side of her mouth. “I see you had your nasty donuts, but did you order me breakfast?”
She quickly wiped her face and tried to duck her head. Then she straightened up and licked my dimple, nodding. “Are you telling me you need to eat first?”
I contemplated what I was most hungry for. “Why don’t I eat while we get naked? I’m an excellent multitasker.”
Her brow furrowed and I laughed. She had no idea what fun I could have with some good old-fashioned maple syrup. I finally got my answer—panties—when I lifted up her shirt and drew it over her head.
“Fuck, Elle, you’re so beautiful,” I whispered. I told my stomach to shut up so I could devour her, but he let out a pathetic growl that filled the room. Elle laughed, the sound beautiful and carefree, so I forgave my stomach for its ill-timed protest.
“Lie on the bed and get those panties off, woman,” I practically growled at her.
Her eyes heated and she instantly obeyed. I was hard enough to pound out a chicken breast. However, I didn’t think our producer would find that tool to meet the sanitary standards for the show.
Never taking my eyes off her sprawled on the bed and ready for me, I lifted the silver lid from the plate sitting on the desk. I grabbed a pancake and the little white ceramic pot of syrup and headed her way. I crawled up her body on my knees, holding the pot in the air above her breasts.
“Austin...” she warned.
I tipped the pot ever so slightly, a drizzle of syrup landing on her nipple and cascading down the side of her breast. Elle gasped at the contact. I quickly righted the pot and leaned down to lick up the sticky mess and took a bite of the pancake in my left hand.
“Delicious,” I murmured. She was breathing faster and looked hungry too, so I fed her a bite of the pancake. “Syrup?” She nodded.
I climbed up higher and drizzled some onto my cock, like hot fudge on a banana split. Her eyes went molten right before she opened her mouth and wrapped those lips around my cock. Her tongue peeked out and swirled around the tip before she took me all the way in, her neck straining to lift her head off the bed. I nearly dumped the rest of the syrup in her hair when my muscles gave out on me.
Thankfully for her, I was able to set the damn thing down on the bedside table, along with the crumpled pancake before extricating myself.
“Jesus, woman.” I uttered the words on a shiver, needing to slow things down or I wouldn’t last. She giggled—actually giggled—and then pouted.
“Hey, I wasn’t done with my sausage.”
“You’ll get plenty of sausage later. Right now, I need that bacon.” I lifted off her and grabbed several pieces from the food tray. I ate some as I walked back, then broke off a piece for her, feeding it to her slowly. When I’d fed her that apple pie bite on camera, everyone had been watching and I’d had to keep it PG. Now I could slow down and watch her like I wanted, nibbling on that pouty lower lip any time I desired.
When we finished it all, she licked my fingers clean, pulling my thumb into her mouth to suck and lave it with her tongue. Then she popped it out with a smile. “Sure I can’t get some of that sausage now?”
“Nope. I’ve still got two pancakes over there to finish.”
I grabbed the food, along with a towel from her bathroom. I threw the towel at her and she spread it out beneath her.
“So conscientious,” she teased me.
I lifted a shoulder. “I’m pretty responsible.”
That dig hit the bull’s-eye. Her cheeks flushed and she looked down. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I know.” As much as I loved hearing an apology, I was also sorry I’d brought it up and killed the playful mood. “Ready to get sticky?”
This time, I rolled the pancakes like a burrito and took a huge bite before setting them down again. The syrup pot was still mostly full and I intended to ingest every last drop before I was done. I started drizzling up her thighs, her squirms and squeals egging me on. Setting the pot aside, I got to work moving her legs apart and licking up her thighs. When I reached the juncture of her legs, her whole body shuddered with just a fan of my breath.
What a dilemma. I had half a pot of syrup left.
I reached for it again and abandoned my position, smiling like a loon when I heard her loud groan of protest. “I’m just so hungry...” I teased. The rest of my pancakes went in my mouth and I hurried to chew and swallow. This was fun teasing her, but it was also delaying my own satisfaction and I couldn’t take much more of it.
The pot tipped for the last time, emptying all the syrup onto her breasts and sliding down her sides in an epic mess. She yelped and nearly came off the bed had I not been straddling her hips. I lapped up all I could, but alas, the mess was too big for one tongue.
“Dammit, Austin!” She bucked, her hips jabbing me forward, my knees shuffling to keep upright. Right into the pools of syrup on each side of her. Then her mouth closed around my cock and my eyes rolled back in my head. Nothing mattered except for the warm cave my cock was now living in.
“Fuckkkkk...” My sticky hands rested on the headboard, holding on for dear life while she attacked me from below. A loud whack reverberated through the room and then my ass cheek lit up like a Christmas tree.
She’d spanked me.
“Rule number one, El Jefe.” I reminded her through my teeth. We were both struggling to have the upper hand here. She had my most delicate body part in her mouth, right by her teeth. But spanking me? That was pushing it.
I reached back and found her legs spread where I’d left them. I dipped and thrust a finger at an angle and hit pay dirt. Her mouth opened on a moan and I took the opportunity to slip free of her and hop off the bed. A loud “schloop” noise echoed in the room, like boots trying to step free of a huge mud puddle. It was actually my knees unsticking from the big stain of syrup on the bath towel.
I reached down to help her up, but the bath towel stayed affixed to her back like we’d used glue, not syrup. She looked ridiculous standing there with a towel as her shadow.
Elle started giggling and I couldn’t help but join in. What the hell was going on here? I mean, we were chefs. Meaning we were the most qualified to be handling food and know what to do with it. Food fights were supposed to be sexy, weren’t they? I put a hand on my knee to support myself while I belly laughed.
Elle wiped tears from her face, still laughing. “Shower?”
I couldn’t even answer, but headed in that direction with her, the towel trailing her the entire way. After getting the water nice and warm, I picked her up under the arms and placed her in while trying to pry the towel off her back. When the last of the devil sauce, known as maple syrup, went down the drain and the laughter dried up, I picked her up and her legs went around my waist.
“I’ve been working on my hugs,” she whispered in my ear, her arms around my neck.
I placed her gently against the tile wall and slid into her. “You’re turning into the best hugger I’ve ever met.” My forehead lowered to hers and with eyes on each other, sharing breath, sharing ourselves, I spilled myself into her. And she welcomed me.
13
Elle
I spent another few hours in the makeup chair, having the professionals do their magic since today was the last day of shooting, if all went well. A stunning dark red dress was waiting for me in my dressing room with tall black stilettos to hobble my feet all day. I couldn’t believe the end of filming was already here. Given that Taste Test was a pilot, there were only five episodes to gauge the audience’s reaction. If it went over well, further seasons would be scheduled and filmed, which might or might not include an invite for me to come back as a judge.
The whole two hours in makeup were spent thinking about Austin and how last night was so different than anything I’d experienced before. I’d never made love to a man with comfortable laughter and the level of intensity that I did with Austin. He’d accepted my apolo
gy, though I could tell he was still hurt by my actions. The whole time we were exploring each other’s body, there was an undercurrent of hesitation. Of worry.
I was worried about Michael and my reputation. He was probably worried I’d turn on him again and I’m sure he had his sister on his mind.
However, the only truly bad part of the night had been when Austin had to leave at three in the morning to sneak back to his room. That part felt dirty. It also reminded me of Michael and his threats. There wasn’t anything else I could do but hope he kept his mouth shut. I didn’t like control of the situation not being within my grasp.
So there I sat squirming for two hours, alternatively turned on thinking about Austin and the things he did to me in the shower, and then sick to my stomach that everything was going to blow up somehow.
“Ten minutes!” a crew member yelled into the room. Bertrand looked stressed as he and the hairdresser fussed with his hairs. I think the poor guy had lost another one since filming began. At this point, he’d do better to just shave it bald and work the tough-guy angle. I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him, though. I needed at least one friend on the judges’ panel.
With only a few minutes to spare, I ran into my dressing room and got in the dress and heels. Hell, I’d need all three minutes left to carefully step my way out to the set in those damn things.
Right as I reached the edge of the set, in front of the rings of cameras, my heel slid and I wobbled, about to go down. A steady hand appeared to grab my elbow and yank me up. I’d know that hand anywhere. That hand had been all over my body last night.
I flushed immediately and willed the blood to go somewhere else. I couldn’t be standing here blushing with Michael in the shadows watching. Pulling my arm free, I decided to do what Austin was always advising me to do.
I showed off jazz hands and then pointed at my feet. “Just learned how to walk. Thanks for the assist.” I grinned at Austin, overly cheerful to mask how uncomfortable I truly was.
He gave me an equally awkward smile back and a thumbs-up before moving to his station next to Brandy. They hugged it out while I slowly made my way to the judges’ table, being more careful not to fall in front of everyone. Snails could literally have beat me to my chair.
“Goodness, sit down before you hurt yourself, Elle. Those shoes are to die for, but they must be hell to walk in.” Bertrand hopped up and took me by the elbow, making sure I got to my seat safely.
Once there, the sound guys came around to get our microphones set up. Michael was boring holes into the side of my head the entire time. I kept my RBF in full effect, hoping he wouldn’t risk provoking me. And I certainly didn’t look in Austin’s direction. I was on stage here just as much as the contestants were and I couldn’t screw up now. Being seen walking into Austin’s hotel room was bad enough. Any slip-up now and Michael would pounce. I could feel it.
“Welcome back to the last episode of Taste Test where we see who our big winner will be!” Lindsey started the show, being her usual cheerleader self. She interviewed each of us, getting soundbites post production would use to jack up the drama and hook viewers. As much as her constant hip-hip-hurray attitude irritated me, she was good at her job and I could see why Tom hired her for the position. In an odd way, I’d miss her just as much as everyone else when the show was over. Well, everyone except for Austin.
My brain was having a hard time coming to terms that win or lose, today was the last day I’d be around Austin. We hadn’t talked about it last night, but it was there in the background, casting shadows over a perfect evening. He never brought up trying to see me after the show was over and I couldn’t seem to get the words out of my tight throat either.
“Welcome back to Taste Test, where we put our contestants to the test with random challenges and mean judges.” Lindsey gave the judges’ panel a mean face and we laughed right on cue. “Today’s challenge is simple: cook an entree worthy of stardom while using one mandatory ingredient...” She paused for maximum effect. “Squid.”
Dios mío, not at all what my stomach needed today. Squid had to be cooked just right to make it the proper texture. A second too long and it was rubbery. A second not long enough and you made your taste tester sick. The crew brought out displays of squid meant to gross out the television audience, which I could attest was very effective.
“You’ll have exactly two hours to prepare your dish. Are you ready, contestants?” Lindsey looked at Austin and Brandy, who nodded their agreement. I flickered my gaze over Austin. The sight made my stomach drop even further. He looked gorgeous in fitted black slacks and a deep blue polo.
But he wasn’t smiling.
Something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know what. Was it the thought of trying to cook squid? The thought of saying goodbye to each other? Or was he regretting last night? Either way, there wasn’t time to ask him as Lindsey started the challenge and he and Brandy jumped into action.
While they cooked, the cameras got more interviews with each judge, wanting us to highlight the difficulties with cooking squid. Then Lindsey went around to both stations getting shots of what they were in the middle of preparing, probably making them even more nervous.
Bertrand and I kept up easy conversation while Michael was oddly quiet. He usually joked around or at least tried to be friendly. Today you could practically feel the waves of hostility coming off of him. Even Bertrand looked at me with raised eyebrows. I shrugged, acting like I had no idea what was going on with him.
Finally Lindsey called time and the contestants stepped away from their dishes. The crew cleared the plates and brought them in front of us, Brandy’s first. She’d made a pasta dish with homemade red sauce and deep fried, breaded squid on top. It presented well and first bite in, I could tell she had a winner. The squid was cooked just right and the taste blended well with the tomato sauce and pasta. The other judges agreed with me.
Next up was Austin’s dish: a squid risotto with tomato, brandy, and cream sauce. It was remarkably good, the sauce being to-die-for, but the squid was just okay for me. I said as much, saying I liked a crunchy fried squid to hide what I was actually eating, which got a few laughs and was also the truth, but I could see Austin’s face fall. My ribs squeezed around my chest. I didn’t want to hurt him, but it was my duty as a judge to be honest with my assessment. Whether we slept together or not, that’s how I would have called it.
Michael perked up beside me and roasted Austin next. His harsh opinion was quite shocking. Even Lindsey was at a loss for words. Anger burned through the guilt in my chest with each nasty thing he said. He was doing it simply to attack Austin for personal reasons, which was beyond unfair.
Bertrand was thankfully last, with absolutely glowing things to say about Austin’s dish, even going so far as to say it was his favorite from the whole show. My heart was ready to beat right out of my chest. This was the moment. I could already see how this would go down. Bertrand would vote for Austin, Michael would vote for Brandy. And I would be left to place the deciding vote.
Me.
The judge who was sleeping with one of the contestants.
You know those moments in life where all your doubts and vulnerabilities crystallize into one moment of startling clarity? That was my moment right there. When everything I’d been worried about narrowed down into one thought: what the fuck have you done, Elle?
I was so close to realizing my dream of opening my own restaurant. I just had to get through the taping of this short reality show and then it would be mine. That’s all I had to do.
But no. I’d let myself get swept away by a twenty-two-year-old man-boy who gave good hugs and had dimples I wanted to move into and set up house. I’d let him talk me into having feelings and smiling. This is exactly why I shied away from attachments and taking days off. Because the minute you relaxed and had a few out-of-this-world orgasms you were staring into a bright light and being asked to make a decision that would affect everything in your future.
So I m
ade the only choice that would put things back on the right track. The only choice I knew how to make. It was time to step up and be El Jefe.
“Elle Fierro. Looks like you have the deciding vote! Who’s going to be our big winner of the Taste Test?” Lindsey was smiling like she had no idea about the gravity of this decision, because she truly didn’t. No one did. Except Austin.
With Michael’s gaze burning one side of my face and Austin’s desperate gaze on the other, I opened my mouth one last time.
“Brandy Latrell.”
Confetti burst from the rafters and everyone clapped. Lindsey jumped up and down and handed flowers to Brandy. Michael and Bertrand stood, clapping for our winner.
Austin and I were the only two people on the whole set frozen, oblivious to the celebration around them. My gaze finally settled on him, my conscience needing to see the devastation on his face.
My penance was his expression, forever in my memory, burned there to taunt me at night when I was alone. Too late, I realized what he meant to me. How much I believed in him. How much I wanted to see him succeed. But I’d spoken and now I’d ripped his dream away from him so I could realize mine.
“Glad you came to your senses,” Michael whispered in my ear, his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged his hand off, but still he spoke. “Guess I was wrong about you after all. I’m sure we can still be friends.”
If he was waiting for an answer, my only response was a lethal glare. Suddenly, I couldn’t stay here one second longer. I leaned down and took off my ridiculous shoes. Then I stepped off the platform and walked off the set.
