Drop Dead Sexy

by Katie Ashley

  “Guess that means you’ve never had a man cook for you?”

  “If you consider one guy microwaving Ramen noodles for me in his dorm cooking, then yes, I’ve had a man cook for me.”

  Catcher shot me a look of disgust. “Microwaving that bullshit is not cooking.”

  “Then you can be my first,” I teasingly said.

  “I’ll pop your cherry any day, babe.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh, I really hate that expression.”

  “Would you prefer I took your male-cooking V-card?”

  “That’s somewhat better.”

  Catcher nodded. “So tell me something.”

  I swallowed down a sip of wine. “Okay.”

  “Did you always want to be a mortician and coroner?” he asked as he began cutting the vegetables.

  My fingertips traced over the rim of my wineglass. “Not exactly.”

  Catcher paused in his chopping. “You mean, you weren’t holding Barbie funerals, or playing funeral home instead of house?”

  I laughed. “Um, no, I wasn’t. And if I had been doing morbid shit like that, my parents should have put me in therapy as soon as possible.”

  With a grin, Catcher said, “So what was it you wanted to do?”

  “Growing up, I was pretty indecisive about my future. I wavered back and forth between a ton of different things. One day I wanted to be a teacher. The next a nurse. Then it was a hair stylist.” I took a thoughtful sip of wine. “I guess it was my way of delaying the inevitable.”

  “The inevitable being you should go into the family business.”

  I nodded. “If I had bailed on the mortuary business, I’m not sure what would have happened to Sullivan’s. I don’t think my younger brother would have taken it on. Maybe Todd or Earl, the guys who work for us, would have wanted to run it. Who knows, we might’ve had to close the doors. That would have killed my father.” An ache burned its way through my chest, and it wasn’t from the wine.

  “Tell me about him.”

  I blinked at Catcher in surprise. “Really?”

  He nodded. “He obviously was someone very important to you, so in that token, he’s important to me.”

  This time I blinked at him because I was fighting the tears that his words caused. “He was a lot like his dad—soft-spoken and reserved. He was fair and honest in all facets of his life. He was compassionate and caring, especially when it came to his family and to his job. He loved UGA football, dancing around to the oldies, and taking his old bird dog with him hunting.”

  Catcher smiled. “He sounds like an amazing man.”

  “He was,” I replied. And he had been. Whenever he called me Liv Boo in public, I had wanted to hide in embarrassment. But I’ve missed it. I’ve missed him so very much. He had certainly set the bar high when it came to men considering the way he had treated my mom like a queen. Of course, growing up, I’d found it a little sickening. Now I wanted the same thing—for a man to look at me with the same love and adoration my dad had looked at my mom. Someone who respected me as he had Mama. A love that lasted a lifetime and beyond.

  After clearing my throat, I asked, “What about you? Did you always want to be a GBI agent?”

  “Not exactly. I think I always wanted to do something that was helpful and useful. Like being a cop or a fireman. I never really imagined going to college.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Surprisingly not, even with parents who were teachers. Elementary school was hell for me because I had a mild case of dyslexia. I didn’t get sorted out with reading and writing until middle school. I compensated for feeling like a dumbass in the classroom by being very physical. Whatever sport there was, I was going to play it and be good at it.”

  “I totally saw you as a jock in school.”

  “We don’t ever shed how we’re labeled, do we?”

  “Sadly not. What happens to us as kids stays with us a long time.”

  “Yeah. It does. But thankfully for us, we’ve both made a success of our lives.”

  I smiled ruefully. “Yes, professionally I’m a success. Personally, I’m pretty sure I’m a small-town pariah for being single and unmarried. Well, there’s also the whole working with dead people thing.”

  Catcher turned the heat on the stove. “It’s totally unfair how women are made to feel like failures just for not marrying early.” He added the pan and began searing the salmon. “Of course, I get tremendous pressure from my mother to settle down and procreate.”

  “Same here.”

  Turning around, he picked up his wine glass before throwing a grin at me. “Here’s to our pain-in-the-ass mothers whom we love dearly.”

  With a laugh, I picked my glass up too. “To our mothers.”

  I tossed back the rest of the wine and then waved the glass at Catcher. “This is so good that I think I’m going to need a lot more. Like the bottle more.”

  A mischievous look twinkled in Catcher’s eyes. “It would be my pleasure to ply with you alcohol, so I can take advantage of you later.”

  Well, it was official. Catcher was as good in the kitchen as he was the bedroom. I practically gorged myself on the delicious salmon and vegetables, not to mention buttery French bread. When we finished dinner, my dress even felt tighter.

  As I reached for my sweater on the back of the chair, Catcher asked, “Are you cold?”

  “Just a little.”

  “Here. I’ll make us a fire.”

  “That would be nice,” I murmured. Catcher had no idea that a secret fantasy of mine had always been to make love in front of a roaring fire. Of course the way my luck ran in the sex department, someone’s ass would end up getting burned, and it would totally ruin the moment.

  Feeling domestic, I cleared the table while Catcher worked on the fire. Once the dishes were loaded into the dish washer, I joined Catcher in the living room where he had the aforementioned fire roaring in the stone fireplace.

  I held my hands out to the flames, warming my chilly skin. “God, that feels good.

  “Jem tried to get me to do gas logs because they’re easier and cleaner and blah, blah. But I wouldn’t hear of it. I love a real fire—the way it smells and sounds.”

  “Me too. But since I’m not much of a lumberjack, I got gas logs at my house.”

  Catcher smiled at me. “If you want real logs, I can take care of getting your firewood.”

  Tilting my head at him, I replied, “Are you sure about that? You seem more metrosexual than lumbersexual.”

  “Trust me, babe, I can chop wood with the best of them. And I have a few flannel shirts in my closet.”

  “Mmm, you do?”

  “Don’t tell me you have a lumberjack fantasy where you help a man with his wood?”

  With a laugh, I said, “Um, no, I don’t. It’s more about liking a woodsy man in flannel.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Want me to go get that flannel shirt?”

  The two glasses of wine I’d had fueled my response. “For right now, I’d rather you just be naked.”

  Catcher’s eyes flared. “You would?”

  I bobbed my head. “I want to see your fabulous body illuminated by just the firelight.” What the hell? Had I actually just said that? Damn, what was the alcohol content in that wine?

  “Well, then. Your wish is my command.”

  When Catcher’s hands went to his tie, my breath came wheezing out like a deflated accordion. As he loosened it, his eyes never left mine, and for the life of me, I couldn’t bring myself to look away. When he started unbuttoning his shirt and exposing his fantastic chest, I licked my lips, causing Catcher to groan. “Fuck me, you’re sexy when you do that.”

  “I can’t help it. You’re making my mouth run dry.” Catcher’s burst of laughter took me by surprise. “What?” I demanded.

  He tore off his shirt and dropped it to the ground before replying. “You should have seen the expression on your face. You looked horrified by what you just said. Like you were suffering from a sp
lit personality.”

  Warmth flooded my cheeks. “You and the wine bring out the naughty in me.”

  “I’ll be sure to restock that brand,” he said with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. He then loosened his belt and dropped it to the floor. After unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, he whisked them away.

  Seeing him standing before me in all his naked glory caused an ache of longing between my legs. Just as I was about to say something that would have embarrassed me, I bit down on my lip to keep it safely inside.

  Catcher closed the gap between us. He tilted my chin up to look at him. “What were you about to say?”

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  He reached around behind me to smack my ass. “Don’t be bad and lie to me.”

  Normally I would have told him to shove his hand up his ass before hitting mine again, but gaaaaah, it was so sexy the way he did it. “I was going to say just looking at you makes me wet.”

  Catcher swept his thumb over my bottom lip. “God, I love that mouth of yours.”

  I reached between us to take his growing erection in my hand. “Would you like it wrapped around your cock?”

  “Hell yes, I would.”

  With my hand firmly around his erection, I sank down to my knees. To me, there was something so sexy about looking up at a man when you had his pride and joy in your mouth. During my college years, I’d become a connoisseur of giving blowjobs. Of course, I was all about being in control, and if some douchebag ever tried the ol’ “I’ll hold your head down so I can fuck your mouth’ bit” I was off my knees and out the door.

  I flicked my tongue out and swirled it around the head of Catcher’s dick. I planted kisses down his shaft and then onto his balls. “Liv, please,” he begged.

  Smiling to myself, I then slid him achingly slow into my mouth. When he finally bumped against the back of my throat, Catcher groaned. Fighting my gag reflex, I pushed him back out before starting to glide him in and out of my mouth. When I gripped him harder, Catcher threw his head back. “Oh fuck, Olivia.”

  My free hand went to caress his balls, alternating between gently squeezing them and rolling them between my fingers. Over and over, I bobbed up and down on him, alternating between increasing and decreasing the pressure.

  “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

  I popped his dick out of my mouth and glanced up at Catcher. “Then come.”

  He stared down at me with eyes hooded with lust. That look. Damn, did I love that look of lust. And I loved having Catcher at my mercy, loving everything I was doing to him.

  “You sure?” he questioned in a strained voice.

  I answered him by taking him deep into my mouth. He grunted and began flexing his hips. It was an incredible ego trip when he called out my name as he came. Although it wasn’t my favorite thing in the world, I swallowed quickly.

  Catcher helped me up off my knees. He swept my hair out of my face and gave me a lingering kiss. When he broke away, he gave me a lazy smile. “I think I’m in the mood for some dessert.”

  I blinked at his retreating form. “Um…okay.” I mean, I guess a cupcake would be nice to get the cum taste out of my mouth. I had just thought maybe I would get a little oral reciprocation or something along those lines.

  When Catcher returned with the container of cupcakes, I started for the couch, but he stopped me. “Strip.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said to strip.”

  I bunched my eyebrows in confusion. “But I thought you said you wanted dessert?”

  A wicked look flashed in Catcher’s baby blues. “I do. I plan to eat this cupcake off your naked body.”

  Well now. That wasn’t something I was expecting. “All righty then,” I replied.

  My hands went around my neck to find the zipper on my dress. Once I let it down, I brought my arms through the holes and then pushed the dress off my waist to the floor. “Nice lingerie,” Catcher mused.

  I glanced down at the almost transparent black bra and panty set I had found in the back of my underwear drawer. Since I’d wanted to match the dress that Jill brought, I’d resorted to my old stash in my chest of drawers that I’d found after moving back home. The last time I’d worn the set was in college. I was surprised I hadn’t found them moth-eaten when I pulled them out.

  “I’m glad you like them.”

  “I’d like it better if you hurried up and took them off.”

  Obeying his wishes, I whisked away the bra and panties, and they joined my dress on the floor. I stood before him in only my heels. When I bent over to take them off, Catcher stopped me. “Keep them on. And lie down on the floor.”

  “Bossy, bossy,” I murmured as I got down on the floor. The fire had heated the wood, and it quickly warmed my bare ass.

  Catcher eased down on the floor to lie beside me. He dipped a finger into the icing of one of the cupcakes. He then brought the icing-caked finger to my mouth and traced my lips. I fought to the urge to lick some of it off.

  He dipped his head, and his tongue darted out to brush the icing off my lips. “Damn, that’s good,” he said.

  When he began to suck the leftover icing off my top and bottom lips, I rubbed my thighs together. I never could have imagined an icing-encrusted kiss being erotic, but damn, if it wasn’t. I couldn’t help wondering what it might feel like for him to be doing the icing licking on a different set of my lips.

  After swiping the icing off another cupcake, he placed a large dollop on each of my nipples. The feel of the cool confection against them had my nipples already puckering before Catcher even brought his mouth to suction off the icing.

  “Mmm,” I murmured as I ran my fingers through his hair. When I tugged on the strands, his mouth tugged harder on my nipples. My legs were now scissoring back and forth to get much-needed friction to my pussy.

  I peered curiously up at him when he took the icing-less cupcakes and crumbled them over my breasts and abdomen. “You look good enough to eat,” he teased while wagging his eyebrows. He then dipped his head and began eating the cupcakes off me. His tongue and teeth grazing my skin caused me to moan. “Does that feel good, babe?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Fuck me, Liv. You tasted sweet as hell before, but I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of tasting you now.”

  The feeling was mutual. I didn’t think I could ever grow tired of the feel of his lips and teeth on my skin as he nipped and sucked every morsel of cupcake off my body.

  As if he had read my mind earlier, Catcher took his next bunch of icing straight between my legs. He slathered it over my pussy, covering my clit and labia. I had a momentary panic that like Jesse and the latex condom, I had some undiscovered vaginal allergy to baked goods, and my hoo-hah was going to swell up.

  After flashing me a wicked grin, Catcher buried his mouth in me. “Oh God, Catcher!” I cried. One of my hands smacked down on the floor while the other went to his hair. My nails raked across his scalp as his teeth grazed my clit. His tongue seemed to be everywhere as he licked and sucked the icing. My eyes rolled back in my head.

  Holy Shiiiiiiiiit! Never. Felt. This. Good. His tongue. The pressure. His tongue. Damn, it was too much.

  An orgasm came charging through like a freight train. I convulsed and cursed as I rode it down. How the man had managed to deliver such an orgasm without even laying a finger on me, or more specifically in me, was beyond my comprehension. He had serious talent.

  Of course, I was probably going to be combing cupcake crumbs from my vag for at least a week, not to mention probably getting an icing-induced yeast infection. But damn, it was worth it.

  Catcher raised his head up from between my legs and swiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Best. Fucking. Cupcakes. Ever.”

  And even though I hadn’t had a single bite of one, I had to agree with him. But now I needed him inside me. Reaching up, I pulled his face to mine and kissed him, hoping he got the message. Boy, did he ever.

  After that night, I would never
be able to look at another cupcake without getting slightly aroused.

  The second time I spent the night with Catcher it was the sunlight streaming through the curtains, and not a rooster, that woke me up. A pleased sigh escaped my lips at the feel of his warm body pressed against mine, his arm wrapped protectively around me. Everything about last night had been wonderful. Getting to have a real date with him was everything I hoped it would be and then some. I’d never in my wildest dreams ever imagined turning a one-night stand into a relationship, but with the way things were going, that’s where we seemed to be headed.

  A relationship.

  Two words I’d given up ever hearing my name associated with again. But here I was.

  Although I hated to leave the comfort of Catcher’s bed and embrace, my bladder was screaming in agony to be relieved. So I took his dead-weight arm and put it behind me. Then I slid across the mattress and got out of bed. I tip-toed across the hardwood floors to the bathroom so as not to wake Catcher.

  “Wow,” I whispered when I walked into the master bathroom. It was seriously gorgeous with dark brown tile and brown and white granite countertops. As I took in the jetted tub and double glass doors of the shower, I couldn’t help being impressed that Catcher and his brother had done the work themselves.

  An idea popped into my head. I wanted to do something to show Catcher how much I cared about him. What better way to do that than by cooking him breakfast and then serving it to him in bed. I wasn’t holding out a lot of hope for that since we’d had to get the ingredients for dinner last night at the store. At the very least, I could bring him coffee in bed.

  Once I flushed the toilet and washed my hands, I borrowed Catcher’s comb and smoothed down my out-of-control bed hair. Since frying anything naked was not only not hygienic, but potentially painful, I grabbed Catcher’s robe off and slid it on. My eyes closed in bliss as Catcher’s scent enveloped me. Just his smell sent an electrifying tingle between my legs. While I wanted nothing more than to run out of the bathroom and tackle him for a quick morning delight, I stayed strong in my resolve to surprise him with breakfast.

  After stepping back into the bedroom, I found Catcher on his back, his arm draped over his eyes as he snored softly. Inwardly, I did a little happy dance that I hadn’t woken him up. I eased the bedroom door closed before padding down the hallway.