by Nikki Sloane
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for an orchestra lover,” I said loudly over the hum of the mixer and the running faucet.
“My friend Grant plays cello. It’s their season finale.” She shut off the water and stacked the bowl in the drying rack. “They’re just a community orchestra, but they’re good.”
There was an abrupt knock on her front door, drawing both of our attention.
“Oh, crap, I forgot about that.” She dug some cash out of her pocket and went to the door, revealing a scrawny guy holding a flat, white box.
“You ordered pizza?” I asked when she returned to the kitchen and set it on the table.
“Grant did, before you hijacked our plans.”
I frowned. “I didn’t know I was hijacking. You didn’t tell me.”
She waved my statement away and gave a smile. “I know, I’m just teasing. It’s fine.” She lifted the lid and the delicious scent slapped me in the face. “Are you hungry?”
I’d barely eaten today. I’d worked out way too long this morning in a desperate attempt not to call her. I’d skipped lunch to meet Joseph, scarfing down a protein bar on the drive out to the suburbs.
My scheme of showing up at her place, getting her to the brink of orgasm, and then begging she let me take her out to dinner, fell by the wayside. She’d said no dates, but fuck that. Even if we didn’t leave her apartment, I could still make it feel that way. I could be romantic, plus I had backup plans B and C in my bag.
“Yeah,” I said, dropping my voice low at the same moment I moved in on her. “I’m hungry.” I suppressed her quiet gasp with my kiss, and she melted beneath me.
I had to hold myself back. Our final kiss last night had unleashed so much longing, and I was determined not to let that happen again. The kiss had been a collision. My head had twisted, choked with thoughts and emotions I wasn’t ready for. Maybe after a few more ‘not dates’ we would be.
“Okay.” She eased me back, her expression dazed. “Plates are in the cabinet next to the fridge.”
I sat at the table and ate while she continued to work on the frosting in the mixer, stopping every now and again to either check her recipe on her iPad, or take a bite of her pizza. We talked about different things. How long she’d lived in the apartment, her job, and how her wild, party animal sister had ended up a vice-principal. Then the conversation turned to my family.
I told her the version of how Dominic and Payton had met at a bar, the story I’d believed until the night my sister had called me from the Federal building. Ruby listened with interest as I explained how Payton had gone on a whim to Japan where Dominic worked, and wound up falling in love.
“Sounds like he’s a nice guy,” Ruby said.
“He is. He makes my sister very happy.” I finished my piece of pizza and grabbed another. “It’s worth mentioning I’m better looking than he is, in case he ever brings it up. We have a bet—”
Her stirring strokes slowed. “When would he bring it up? We’re not dating.”
Fuck. I couldn’t believe I’d walked right into that. My girlfriend might meet family, but she wasn’t that. She was my partner. “I meant, in case he decides to pop in on my place unannounced like Payton did. Let’s just hope it’s not when I’m fucking you against the window in my living room.” I grinned. “Although you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?”
A half smile was her only answer as she resumed her stirring.
I’d made a huge misstep and was grateful I’d been able to correct it.
The conversation was easier after that. I listened as she explained what she was doing and the detailed process of making the macarons, and enjoyed watching her enthusiasm. I liked her pride when she sandwiched the lemon frosting between two yellow cookie shells and presented it to me.
“I get the first one?”
She nodded.
The macaron was more delicate than it looked. I took a bite, surprised at how soft and chewy it—Oh my God.
“Shit, that’s good,” I said, my mouth still half full. “This is really, really good.”
She laughed. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it. Now is when I break the news to you I have one more batch to make.”
Disappointment flashed through me, and was gone just as quickly. I could make that work. “All right. What can I do to help?”
Doing dishes wasn’t the sexiest job ever, but she had opened a bottle of cabernet, fed me pizza and two of her lemon macarons. If having clean bowls ready for her would speed the process along, I was all for it.
When the dishes were done, she was still whipping egg whites in her stand mixer and measuring out sugar on a scale. She didn’t seem to notice when I slipped from the room and grabbed my bag. I went on a self-guided tour of her apartment and discovered the bathroom across the hall from her bedroom.
As I changed, I glanced around the small room. The clutter of makeup and hair products was contained neatly in a wire mesh basket. Otherwise, her bathroom was clean. What a change from her time at school. She’d been kind of sloppy then. She wasn’t quite that girl anymore. Ruby seemed more pulled together these days. More focused, and with a harder edge.
Was it self-centered to wonder if I had anything to do with that?
I left my clothes folded on the side of her bathroom counter and returned to the kitchen, where she was sifting the flour into a bowl. She didn’t seem to notice my reappearance until I set my bag on the chair. She glanced over her shoulder at me, and then did a double-take. Amusement froze on her face as she stopped what she was doing and gave me her full attention.
“What. Are. You. Wearing?”
“I thought I’d help with the baking.”
Surely she’d never smiled so big in her life. “What happened to your clothes?”
“I didn’t want to get anything on them.”
“Isn’t that what the apron’s for? Oh my God, I’m dying. I can barely look at you.” She giggled. “That’s amazing.”
I’d checked myself out in the mirror before leaving the bathroom, wearing the lobster apron and claw shaped oven mitts, and nothing else. It was funny to me, and her reaction was even better. And at least the kitchen was hot from the oven, so my bare ass wasn’t cold.
“Where did you get that?”
“A white elephant game at my sister’s Christmas party.”
She bit her bottom lip as her gaze dipped down to where the apron stopped. It was just long enough to cover my junk. “You naked under there?”
“Why? You want to see my lobster roll?”
The noise from her was a half-laugh, half-snort. “I’m sorry, your lobster roll?”
I closed the distance between us and took her face between my two lobster claw mitts. “Not my best, I admit.”
“No, it wasn’t—”
I pressed my lips to hers. Soft and sweet at first, just our mouths meeting. But then I felt her warm hand on my ass.
Her forehead leaned against mine. “You are naked.”
I went in for another kiss, this time more serious. I couldn’t touch her with the mitts on, couldn’t do shit. I flung one aggressively to the floor, followed by the other.
“Uh, oh,” she whispered. “The gloves are coming off.”
A devilish grin widened on my face. She had no idea.
Chapter
TWENTY-FIVE
I grasped Ruby’s hips and dropped a final kiss on her mouth. “Turn around,” I said, using the most seductive voice I had. “Finish what you were doing.”
She rotated slowly in my hold until her back was to me. Then she picked up the sifter with one hand, and turned the crank on the side with her other. Perfect. I skated my fingers along the waistline of her jeans, moving steadily toward the front, putting my arms around her.
Her voice was all-knowing. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it.” I popped the button free at the top of her fly, and nuzzled my way into the crook of her neck. The loose hairs that had slipped out of her ponytail tickle
d my nose. She shivered when my mouth connected with her soft skin. Did she smell like vanilla because of her baking, or because she was just fucking delicious?
“Oh,” she sighed, and the sifter slowed to a distracted crawl.
I nibbled the curve of her neck while inching down her zipper. My voice was sinful. “We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet, and you’re already losing focus.”
The crank resumed its noisy turning, but she tilted her head to the side, granting me more access to feast on her neck. Every little shudder and sigh she gave was so fucking sexy. I wanted to devour her.
When her task appeared to be done, I slid my hand down the front of her undone jeans and eased my fingers inside her panties. Jesus, she was wet already, and my cock hardened. I pressed it against the flat of her ass, letting her feel what she did to me.
“Oh, God,” she jerked when I twitched my fingers. The metal sifter clattered on the counter so she could brace herself with her hands. I sucked hard on her neck, not caring if I gave her a hickey like I was a goddamn teenage boy.
I wasn’t above marking her as mine. That was what she’d be after tonight. I was already hooked on her, so it only seemed fair.
Her hands gripped the counter’s edge so furiously, they went white as I traced my fingers over her damp clit. Her head tilted and lolled backward until it was heavy on my shoulder. Ruby’s eyes were closed and her mouth open so she could suck in labored breaths.
“What’s next?” I asked. “You need to add the flour to the eggs?”
She nodded, not even opening her eyes, although she made a face. Like my question was annoying and had disturbed her contentment.
“Then get to it.” I withdrew my hand and gripped the sides of her jeans and panties. I jerked them down her long legs, revealing her beautiful, creamy skin.
We were right beside the mixer and it meant she didn’t have to walk anywhere, which was good. Her jeans and underwear were wadded around her ankles. She looked amazing like this. The long sweater stopped just where her cheeks did, and it teased me with flashes of the bottom of her ass whenever she moved.
I grabbed the oven mitts I’d thrown off, put them on the floor behind her, and knelt on them, giving me a much better view of her perfect ass.
There was noise from the counter above. She’d pulled a clean rubber spatula from the dish rack and, in her haste, she’d nearly dumped the whole thing over. I fanned my hands around the globes of her bottom and squeezed, causing her to jolt once again.
She was so cute. Flustered and sexy, but she was standing up straight. “Bend over a little. I need to see that pussy, sweetheart.”
Whoa.
A rush of memories came flooding back. When we’d been together, I’d called her sweetheart occasionally. It slipped out now before I could stop it. A habit that wouldn’t die, or something more? She followed my command, leaning over, and it caused the sweater to lift and expose more of her nakedness.
She was all pink, and lush, and mine.
“Oh, fuck.” She gasped the words as I bent forward and buried my face in the seam of her legs. “Kyle. I can’t do anything when you’re doing that.”
“You can, and you will. Finish,” I gave her a playful bite on a cheek, “or you don’t get to.”
She groaned, both in satisfaction and frustration as I resumed teasing her with my tongue. She tasted so good. Sweet. Perfect. A taste I couldn’t get enough of.
I lifted and separated her ass cheeks so I could get at her clit more, while listening to her soft cries of pleasure and sounds of her struggling to mix her batter.
She muttered it between big breaths. “I’m going to fuck this batch up.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I’m riding your face when I’m supposed to be counting strokes. It usually takes me thirty-five to get it just right.”
“How many have you done so far?”
She turned her upper body halfway around so she could look down at me, and her expression was tortured. “I dunno, three?”
I shoved my tongue between her legs, swiping it over her clit, getting her to flinch with pleasure. I sat back on my heels and peered up at her. “Four.”
The realization dawned on her. She swooped the spatula through the bowl, and looked at me. I grinned, and repeated the long lick, loving the way she felt on my tongue.
“Five,” I said.
The spatula turned the sticky batter.
Ruby’s legs were trembling when we made it to twenty-five, and I figured now was the time to take it to the next level. My tongue started at her clit, but wandered backward . . . all the way back, and up. She jolted and there was a loud bang as her hips crashed into the counter top.
“Twenty-six,” I said. I didn’t hesitate, I just repeated the same motion. “Twenty-seven.”
“Christ,” she moaned.
I’d never rimmed before, and after our discussion of our lists, I’d learned she had never received it, either. Her reaction seemed to be enjoyment, but . . . “Do you like it?”
“It feels so wrong,” she whispered, “and so fucking good.”
Lust bubbled through my veins. She moaned, loud and long, as I delivered another. “Twenty-eight.”
By the time we made it to thirty-five, she could barely stand. She was hunched over the counter, one hand holding the lip of the bowl and the other the spatula. Her legs were quaking, and goosebumps dotted her thighs. I wanted a picture of this moment. Me sporting a huge erection under the ridiculous apron, my hands on her ass, holding her pinned to the counter while I licked her from front to back.
“Are you finished?”
Her voice was almost as shaky as her legs. “I have to put it, uh, in the bag and pipe them.”
“Do it.” I stood up, and since it was bare and calling to me, I slapped my palm against her ass. The skin gave a nice ripple, and she yelped with surprise.
She needed to walk, so I helped her step out of her pants and tossed them onto a chair in the living room. She hurried to do her final task, moving as if she was being timed. I undid the knot at the back of my apron, took it off, and dropped it to the floor.
Ruby was concentrating too much to notice me as she went on filling the sheets with perfect circles of batter. I watched as she did the last one, tossed the pastry bag into the sink, and picked up the cookie sheet. The final step, she’d told me earlier, was to tap the sheet and let out any air pockets. Then, the shells would need to rest for a while before going into the oven.
So when she banged the last sheet against the counter, I knew she was ready to surrender full command to me, eager to get the pleasure my tongue had promised with more than thirty licks.
Her gaze swept over my naked body, lingering on my dick that was so fucking hard for her. I took the trays from her and set them on the kitchen table, clearing space on the counter while she followed my command of “Get naked.”
She stretched the sweater up over her head and flung it away. Her bra was a simple white one, more for her comfort than to impress me, but it didn’t matter. She looked enticing in anything, and nothing at all. Her arms twisted behind her back, the bra was undone, and it fell to the laminate floor.
Her unblinking gaze was on me the whole time, silently commanding me to come and get her, and I was happy to oblige. I descended, once again pinning her hips roughly to the edge of the countertop. I fumbled my palms over her warm, full breasts, squeezing and pinching as she squirmed. Then I urged her to bend over, only this time there was plenty of room for her to rest on her elbows.
I traced my tongue down the length of her spine as I sank to my knees, and she shivered. Her back bowed toward me, so I set my palm in the center and shoved it back straight. Not that it mattered what her posture was, but one of the things Joseph had said during his crash-course this afternoon was to utilize constant correction.
Every adjustment I made to her body would keep her focused on what she was doing. How she was doing. The more we both concentrated on our goals,
the deeper the level of bond we could form.
I was greedy. I wanted the deepest one possible.
She cried out as I pulled her cheeks apart and focused my mouth on the tight ring of muscles between them. I spun my tongue in a circle, teasing her, and the shakes were instantly back in her legs. As I paused for a moment, I watched them shimmer across her skin.
Having that kind of effect on her was intoxicating.
Her hand reached back and gripped my hair, tugging at me. I took her hand and placed it on her cheek, showing her how I wanted her to hold herself open to me. I needed my right hand free. One stroke of my palm down the side of her thigh pumped more lust into my system. Feeling her tremble was a new level of satisfaction. Of power.
From the back of her knee, I crept my hand upward, sliding over her goosebumped skin. I sank my index finger deep inside her pussy, all the way until my knuckles were pressed firmly against her clit.
“Oh!” Her back rounded, her focus abandoned for pleasure.
I kept my finger still, buried inside where she was hot as fire. I cracked my other hand hard on her ass before reaching up to shove her back straight once more. The forearm she used to support herself squealed against the countertop.
“Pay attention to me, Ruby. Not just how you feel.”
She exhaled loudly and made it somehow sound like a promise to do better. It was the sweetest music. Her pussy clenched on my finger, and I rewarded her, drawing it slowly out, only to plunge back in.
She whimpered with enjoyment, but held her position this time.
I returned to my task, lashing my tongue wildly against her asshole, and her fingers clenched hard on her own cheek, as if trying to pull it further open. Allowing me more room. Should I order her to put a knee up on the counter? No. She was shaking too much already. I didn’t want her to lose her balance, especially with what I had planned.
Would she be able to maintain her posture with what I was about to do? My finger was drenched, her pussy soaking. I withdrew slowly, and made sure she was damp enough where my mouth was, preparing her for a new experience.
