“I’m…fuck…I’m…” she can’t say anything else.
Her legs tighten around my head and a shudder rips through her as she screams, “Pierre!”
The best sound in the world. My name against her lips as her body comes while I tongue-fuck her.
“No more,” she whimpers as her body relaxes from its climax. I love it when a woman is orgasming on my face, and I continue to eat her. Like a man dying of starvation, I lick her hole, absorbing every last drop of cum. “No more,” she says again weakly.
I stand and wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, but we’re not done yet. I rip my clothes off and reach for the condom I had in my back pocket. My cock has already started; pre-cum is forming at the head.
Grabbing her hips, I slide her right to the edge of the table and I enter her slowly.
“Oh my God,” she mewls as she clenches her pussy together.
“Oui, I like that.” I lean down and kiss her. She can taste herself on me, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She grabs my hair and keeps my mouth glued to her. Her mouth-watering erotic sounds are like an instant aphrodisiac. I love how she is, how primal her movements are. Her hips are moving with mine, her hunger is as insatiable as I am.
I move my hand and go straight for her clit. “Oh yes, please. I need to come again,” she whimpers then goes back to the sensual, passionate kiss.
I feel the pull in my balls, my heart pounds out of my chest, and a zap of current rips up my spine. I pull away from the kiss, close my eyes, and enjoy the wet, hot feeling of her pussy around me.
“Pierre,” she whispers and I open my eyes. She’s managed to remove the blindfold and is looking up at me with a raw emotion. One I’ve not seen in a long time. “Stop,” she says as she pulls me down to kiss me.
Without hesitation I pull out of her. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Was the table too hard?”
“Nothing like that. Sit,” she says as she sits up.
I sit on the chair and she climbs on top of me. She grabs my cock in her hand, and guides it inside her as she straddles my hips.
“I want us closer. I want us to see inside each other’s soul,” she whispers as she leans down and kisses me.
It’s suddenly turned from hot, carnal fucking to something else.
Her eyes never leave mine, and her hips slowly move in circles as I begin to feel so much more.
Sensually, passionately, she makes love to me.
The feeling has changed. The raw, fevered movements of a few moments ago have transformed into…more.
“Holly,” I manage to say as I throw my head back.
“Look at me. See me.”
“I didn’t know it could be like this again.” I grab her hips and pull her close as I make love with her.
Entwined are two people, perfectly sweaty, perfectly happy, and perfectly content.
I come with so much force, I’m left nearly unconscious. Her own cries of pleasure follow only seconds after mine.
We’re entangled together, arms holding each other, lips touching blazing skin. I know she felt the shift, I felt it in her body and saw it in her dangerous, heated gaze.
“Holly,” I start to speak, but don’t know what to say to her.
“It’s alright, I understand.” She kisses me on the cheek as my hands roam her sweat-soaked body.
It’s quiet between us, neither of us saying anything, because nothing needs to be said.
She lays her head against mine and kisses me again.
She feels good on me. She fits my body and I fit hers. We were made for each other. The moments pass and silence encompasses us until Holly is brave enough to speak. “I need a shower; I’m sticky,” she says then chuckles.
I hold her closer to me and pepper kisses down her neck and her shoulder. “I like you sticky. But I much prefer you wet.”
I feel her cheeks move in a smile as she tilts her head to give me better access.
“I’m also hungry, seeing as I didn’t get to eat dinner,” she says in jest.
“I was very fond of my dessert.” I bite her shoulder, not too hard, just enough for her to roll her hips and for my cock to stir to life.
“Shower time.” She stands slowly. With wobbly legs she goes in the direction of the bathroom.
Again, who am I to deny a beautiful woman? And I walk in behind her.
Chef Pierre: Chapter 25
Holly
“Tonight’s house specialty is crispy king prawns with honey and garlic sauce on a bed of freshly made rice noodles,” Pierre says as he has Eric bring in the tasting plate for us all to try it.
“You’ve never served something like this before,” Justine comments as she eyes the dinner plate.
“Oui, you are right. I have not,” he answers, but gives no more than that simple explanation.
“Where are the prawns from, chef?” I ask. Pierre turns to me and smiles. I can see there are numerous dirty and devious thoughts running wild through his mind. He’ll probably want me to call him chef the next time he cooks me dinner.
“Queensland. I went to the fish market early this morning and they had the most succulent and juicy prawns I have ever seen. I had to make the second most perfect dish that’ll touch my mouth.”
I feel my face heat up.
“This is delicious, Pierre. I think one of the best things you’ve ever made,” Maddie says as she tries to go in for another prawn.
“Yes, I know.” Pierre straightens his shoulders with what everyone else will perceive as arrogance, but I think it’s pride.
When the dinner plate is all but licked clean, Eric comes back in with another plate covered with a silver cloche.
“I have had this only recently in the restaurant, but I only just discovered how phenomenal all the flavours are. Definitely the most intense and most flavourful food I’ve had in my mouth for a long time.” He lifts the silver dome, and I know he isn’t talking about the deconstructed lemon meringue pie sitting there so innocently, taunting me on the white plate.
Not only does my face feel like it’s just had a chemical peel, but my ears burn, and my pussy contracts in anticipation of Pierre and his tongue.
“Holly, will you have some?” Pierre holds a spoon out to me, but the cheekiness behind the guiltless smile tells me he’s going to make me writhe at every given opportunity.
But damn him if he’s going to have the upper hand in the squirm department.
“It’s okay, Pierre. I recently enjoyed an even better version of your lemon meringue pie. It had a slightly salty flavour to it and that, mixed with the lemony curd, is the flavour I’d rather have in my mouth.”
“Oh shit,” Maddie mutters under breath. “They’re gonna kill each other.”
Pierre’s eyes dart to Maddie, then back to me. The right side of his lips lift and he arches an eyebrow.
Gauntlet thrown down.
Challenge accepted.
One or both of us is going to combust by the end of the night with all the sexual innuendos.
“Is that right, Holly?” He straightens his back.
“I wouldn’t want that flavour,” I pause and point to the mostly eaten dessert, “to take away from the other version I had.”
“If you believe the other version is better, than maybe you should share the recipe with me and I can try it here.”
Damn him. How does he know I can’t cook half as well as he can?
“Impossible. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.” Lie – seeing as my aunt never talked about her mother, my grandmother.
“Hmmm, well then I will have to try and recreate this exquisite taste you talk about. I’d like for that flavour to dance in my mouth too.” He adds another cheeky but incredibly sexy grin.
Did someone turn the heat up?
My throat feels slightly parched, and I swear every pair of eyes in the room is on me and what I can imagine is my fire-engine-red face.
“I’m not sure you’re that good.” I half shrug my shoulders and look away before I spon
taneously combust from the crazy heat in here.
“Oh crap,” Maddie whispers to Justine sitting beside her. Justine nods in agreement.
Pierre’s looking smug, egotistical, and overconfident. “Perhaps there is an ingredient I am missing. Was it a salty element you say I have neglected? I will pay more attention to the curd when I make it next and try to replicate the taste. A sweet, yet salty morsel that must capture the right combination of mouth-watering flavours, to make us crave it over and over again.”
I blink at Pierre. Breathless, and desperate for him to curl his beautiful French tongue around any part of my body.
He turns and leaves, and I’m left drowning in a haze of hormones threatening to overthrow my brain and screw him as hard as I can.
Oh my God! What is happening to me?
“Holly?” Maddie says snapping me out of my delicious memories of Tuesday night. The way he touched me, his hands gripping me as he pushed his tongue inside me. “Holly?” she says again, definitely bringing me back to the staff room.
“Yep,” I answer, though my voice is crackly because I’m damned well horny.
“What was that about?”
“I don’t know.” I answer way too quickly.
“He has a big thing for you,” Justine adds as the three of us stand and leave the now incredibly hot and airless room.
“I doubt it,” I scoff. It’s none of their business what is happening between Pierre and I.
“You know, he’s changed so much since you started here,” Justine says as she leans an elbow on Maddie who’s slightly shorter than her. Both women nod their heads, eyebrows are lifted, obviously expecting an answer from me.
“It’s not my business what he’s doing.”
“He was a master in the kitchen, once, a long time ago. After Eva passed away, he became a self-absorbed monster. But recently…” Maddie stops talking and shakes her head. “Recently, he’s finding that spark he lost. His food is becoming more creative, and he’s giving more of himself to his work. It’s like he’s starting to live again.”
I listen to what these two gossiping women have to say, but I don’t dare add anything into the conversation that could give them any idea about the relationship Pierre and I share outside the restaurant.
But I’m sure the way he watches me, the way he grabs me and kisses me when we’re in private, even my bruised lips give it away. One day soon, everyone is going to know what’s happening between us. But for now, it’s no one’s business.
As service begins, so does the in-restaurant foreplay.
I go to the pass-through to make sure the plates aren’t backing up, and Pierre is waiting for me with a simple smile, a discreet wink.
When I leave, I can feel his eyes boring into my butt. And when I turn over my shoulder, he’s standing inside his kitchen, eye-fucking me.
Later, I went into the kitchen and ‘accidently’ dropped the tongs on the floor. Of course I needed to bend at the waist to pick them up. I heard Pierre’s low, grumbling moan.
Going to the bathroom, Pierre walks past me and barely touches my arm, softly trailing his fingertips down my inflamed skin. My heart, pounding loudly, anticipating the next stolen touch.
Service is near the end, and the restaurant is down to the last tables for the evening. I walk into the kitchen and Pierre is screaming at another one of his chefs. Something about a steak and it not being cooked right. When he finishes, he turns and sees me standing beside the kitchen door.
“Holly, what a pleasant surprise. I’m just about to take the trash out. Join me for some air,” he says as he grabs the bin closest to him and ties the end in a knot. I notice there’s barely anything in the bag, so he must be using it as a ruse to get us alone together.
When we go out the back, Pierre tries to kiss me. “No, Pierre. We need to talk about what’s happening here at work.”
“But I enjoy watching you and I very much enjoy watching you become aroused.”
“That’s the thing. Until we know who we are with each other, I think we need to keep our exchanges here on a professional level.”
Pierre shakes his head as he slings the trash into the huge industrial bin. “Non, I am sorry, that will not work for me,” he says carelessly.
“Well, it’s going to have to work for you.” I put a hand on my hip and feel an impending argument brewing.
“I cannot keep seeing you sway your hips, smile at others and turn my mind off from wanting you. It is impossible.” His accent is thick and strong.
“We can’t carry on like two teenagers. We don’t know how we’re going to go as a couple. What if we don’t work out? Then everyone will be walking on eggshells.”
“I do not care for anyone else or what they think. I want you; you want me.” He crosses his arms obstinately in front of his chest.
“But we need to remain professional.” I feel myself getting frustrated for having to repeat myself.
“I am a man; you are a woman. What is the problem?”
“The problem is this is a restaurant and not a bedroom or a school yard.”
“Oui, you are right, we are not in a school yard. I am forty-one, Holly. I have loved and I have lost. I have given up and now I am starting to live again. I am too old to play games. I am too stubborn to be patient and I am certainly too attracted to you to stop looking at you like I want to fuck you every spare moment I can. This is who I am. I am a man who wants you, and I have only ever wanted one other woman like this in my entire life, and she is no longer with me. I will not be professional, I will eye-fuck you every chance I get, and I will have my mouth on yours every opportunity I have.”
My knees liquefy, my stomach knots, and my brain suddenly forgets any logical train of thought.
Pierre takes a predatory step toward me. My shoulders slump in surrender.
He leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss on my lips. My body doesn’t even try to resist.
His tongue overtakes mine, demanding submission. And I’m gone.
“If I want to kiss you, I will. If I want to take you to the office to feast on your pussy, I will. If I want to bend you over and fuck you in the kitchen in the middle of service, I will. And I do not give a damn what anyone has to say about it.” I’m not sure if it’s the beautiful French accent, or the way he pronounces every word without shortening it, but I get lost in him and his intense passion.
“Um…” What else can I say? He’s just declared how much he craves me and my feelings mirror his.
“There is no ‘um’. Just so we are clear, I will do what I want, when I want, but when it comes to Emma, I will be extremely careful around her. And I need to see her soon. We have a pizza date.” Pierre embraces me and kisses me on the forehead. “Monday afternoon, straight after school, can you come to my house?”
“She has homework.” I take a deep breath and smell his aroma. God he smells just like fresh warm bread straight from the hot oven.
“I will help her, then we can make pizza.”
“Pierre,” I begin to object, only because I’m trying to limit Emma’s exposure to Pierre. I don’t want her heartbroken if we don’t work out. But from the way Pierre is talking, us not working out isn’t really an option for him.
“I may have been born in France, but I know English. I will help her with her homework, then we will make pizza,” he reiterates.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea?” I’m not asking his approval, I’m trying to get him to think logically about it.
“You must stop thinking about the possibility of an end, and start living in the surety of now and what you and I have.”
“But what do we have?”
“We are discovering the depth of our emotions, and I hope I will never touch the bottom of what I feel for you. I want to be immersed in you until my last breath.”
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
“Pierre.” I shake my head, not really knowing how to respond. He’s rendered me speechless a few times wi
th his overpowering personality.
“Non, you do not need to speak. You need to let me prove I will be reliable and strong for both you and Emma.”
I lay my head against Pierre’s chest. He kisses the top of my head and holds me in his strong arms.
His personality is big, overwhelming. I’m being sucked into his all-consuming vortex.
And I’m loving it.
Chef Pierre: Chapter 26
Pierre
I just finish getting dressed after a shower when I hear the doorbell being pressed several times.
“He’s not here, Mummy. PIERRE!” Emma shouts my name in desperation.
I love hearing that she is eager to see me. She wants to be here. It warms my heart and brings a smile to my face. “I think you were right about them, mon amour,” I whisper to Eva, hoping she’s close enough to see me smiling and to hear the enthusiasm in Emma’s voice.
“Is it you making all this racket, ma petite?” I ask as I fling the door open.
“Oui, I thought you weren’t here.”
I chuckle at Emma and her use of my French ‘yes’. She once asked me if I needed to go to the bathroom when she heard me say it, now she’s happy to use it herself.
“Two beautiful women should not be kept waiting outside for their host. Please come in.” I open the security door, and Emma bounds inside. She throws her arms around my waist and hugs me incredibly tight. I lean down and kiss her head. She lets me go and takes herself with her school bag toward my kitchen.
“You look particularly appetising,” I say in a low voice to Holly, who’s wearing denim shorts and a purple singlet top. Her long hair is pulled back in a ponytail and her cheeks look flushed from the sun.
“You’re wet,” she responds by raking her hands through my hair and leaning in to kiss me.
“I’m hoping you are wetter.” I close my mouth over hers. Letting my tongue play with hers, but I stop when her hands knot in my hair and she pulls me closer to her. “I really want to continue this, but tonight is not about you or me. It is about the gorgeous little girl in my kitchen.”
Crave Page 38
