by Amy Andrews
His lips moved south, his tongue stroking down the column of her throat. “Where else do you put it?” His voice was a low growl against the frantic flutter of her pulse.
Val’s head was spinning. Put what? She couldn’t think.
“The vanilla,” he said, as if she’d asked the question out loud. His hand smoothed down her stomach and reefed up her T-shirt, his mouth moving south to conquer that territory, too, smelling and licking, his lips branding her as they tasted everything in their path.
“Here?” His nose circled her belly button, the hot swipe of his tongue following the movement on a second revolution. Val whimpered as all the muscles beneath melted to putty.
“Or here?”
The flat of his tongue dragged all the way up her body to her bra. He lifted his head and took two seconds to appreciate her bra before pulling the cups aside. He stared at her breasts, small and pert, the nipples beaded with arousal. His breathing was loud and ragged as he inspected them like it was his job and he was employee of the month.
“You have the palest nipples.”
There was a reverence to his voice that wrapped around Val’s heart. She’d always been self-conscious of her A cups, but Kyle looked at them like they were giant bloody bazookas and he wanted to do very bad things to them. And that sent a flaming fist to the fire already smouldering between her legs. When he lowered his head and sucked one into the heat of his mouth, the fire exploded in a shower of sparks, starting spot fires everywhere.
“God, these taste good,” he muttered, lifting his head to switch sides. “I’d forgotten how good they taste.”
Val’s eyes rolled shut as his tongue created all kinds of havoc, her bones dissolving as his teeth grazed the sensitive tips. Everything pulsed and bloomed and opened for him. Ready for more. Ready for him.
She panted hard, shutting her eyes against the wicked pull of his mouth, seducing her to its will. But the slick flesh between her legs was screaming for him. She wanted him inside her.
Now.
“Kyle.”
It didn’t really sound like her voice. It was too deep and too rough and too…crazed. More plea than demand. The only other time a man had reduced her to such desperation had been two weeks ago, and here he was again, proving it was no one-off.
This man made her want too much.
Maybe he’d cast some kind of spell on her? Maybe he was some kind of dark magic practitioner. Maybe his voodoo extended beyond his cologne.
But he seemed to understand what she needed, even better than she did. His hands slid between them, one hand pushing beneath the elastic waistband of her trousers and underwear, straight to the wet, hot heart of her.
Val sucked in a breath, and he groaned, his mouth releasing the tortured tip of her nipple. “Do you put it here?” he asked, his breath hot against her skin as he slid a finger through the slickness.
Her heart was beating so loud and fast now, she could barely hear him, but she whimpered as the finger glanced over the top of her clitoris, engorged and aching for action.
“What about here?”
A moan tore from her throat at the delicious intrusion of one thick finger.
“Jesus, you’re wet,” he muttered, kissing her hot and hard and urgent, another finger sliding inside as his thumb found the taut bundle of nerves and pressed.
Val gasped at the pressure from both the inside and the out. “Kyle.” She clutched the hard globes of his ass tighter. “Please.”
He gazed at her, his chest heaving as heavily as hers. “You want to do it here?”
She made a low, growly noise at the back of her throat as she yanked his shirt up. “Yes, here.”
He’d started it, here. He could damn well finish it.
And not even the knowledge they should not be doing this again, or the fact they were breaking every food hygiene rule in existence, revived her enough to stop this madness. The thought of the department of health shutting her down was a very distant concern.
She yanked his shirt off over his head and tossed it on the ground somewhere behind them, and Kyle didn’t need any more encouragement. Suddenly her pants were down to her knees and he was lifting her, sliding her buttocks onto the surface of the bench. It was cold against the heated heart of her, but it wasn’t enough to cool her ardour or produce a cooler, wiser head.
She was beyond sanity.
His wallet landed on the bench next to her, and the tearing of a foil packet punctured her sexual fugue.
Dear god, she wanted him now.
“Hurry,” she said, her heartbeat throbbing through all her pulse points, pounding viciously through the engorged heat at her centre like the beat of a drum reaching its crescendo. She toed off her shoes and wriggled her legs, trying to kick out of the confining embrace of her trousers.
She wanted her legs to be wrapped around him when he came. When she came.
Suddenly her trousers were gone, reefed down her legs, and Kyle was stepping between them, his own shorts nowhere in sight. His hands pushed her knees wider apart, and Val locked her ankles around his naked ass.
She slid her hands onto his chest, warm and naked, so smooth, the muscles so firm and defined. But he shook his head, pushing her back to rest on her elbows, before quickly jerking her hips right to the edge of the bench, tilting her pelvis at just the right angle to meet the thick, blunt head of his cock.
Val almost whimpered at the urgent press of him to screamingly sensitive tissues.
God alone knew what she must look like, her hair loose, her freckles on full display, her shirt pushed up around her neck, her breasts exposed to his view. He tipped his chin at them, looking surprisingly bigger in her semi-upright position, the pushed back edges of the bra framing them, giving them some fullness and shape.
“Play with them.”
His coarse request was like an electric shock to her clitoris, and for a moment she could do nothing but stare at him and wonder if she’d heard right. But she had, his gaze firmly fixed on the pale swollen nubs like they were chocolate buttons and he was an addict.
For that look, she’d do whatever the hell he wanted.
“Like this?” she asked, her voice husky, eager to comply, eager for him to keep staring, wanting him to look at her like that always.
With her elbows still grounded, she slid her hands to her breasts, cupping the side swells in her palms as she slowly, slowly extended her fingers to brush across the excruciatingly sensitive tips. They puckered further beneath her touch, and his swift intake of breath tightened her belly, blatantly aroused by her boldness and his intense inspection.
He groaned and muttered, “Yes,” his gaze glued to her chest as he grabbed her hips, aligned himself, and thrust inside her, smooth and easy.
Val cried out, her back arching at the hot, searing pleasure of it, the quick burn of stretching tissue, the rapid soothe of slicked arousal. It hurt so fucking good. Her red hair pooled on the bench top behind as her fingers pinched her nipples to maximise the pleasure.
Kyle withdrew. “Fuck.” He thrust again. “Yes.”
Her body rocked to the motion, and she moaned at the fullness of him. Moaned one more time as he pulled out and thrust into her again, harder this time. She couldn’t see his gaze feasting on her nipples—her head had long since lost the ability to hold itself upright—but she could feel it.
Feel the intensity of it.
He was watching her, watching her closely. Watching the bounce of her breasts with each thrust of his hips. Watching as she pinched and released her nipples, pulling them up into elongated peaks, twisting and squeezing the sensitive tips between her thumb and forefinger, panting at the little daggers of pain, and moaning at the ripples of pleasure that swept from the raw peaks to the hard pearl of her clit.
She knew her nipples would be flushed a dark rose by now. That they’d sting in the shower tonight and be achingly sensitive tomorrow, reminding her with every movement of Kyle.
“Look at me.”
&
nbsp; Val moaned a protest, her calves squeezing tight around his buttocks as she gathered the strength to lift her head. Her bones were like lead inside her limbs, her neck like a wet sponge. But the sight of them locked together so intimately was worth it.
Kyle Leighton, standing like a freaking boss between her legs, was well worth it. Gloriously naked, the smooth bareness of his chest, the tight coil of his biceps, the spread of his hands on her hips, and the bunch of corded muscles either side of his neck were pure fucking poetry.
“I want you to look at me when you touch yourself. I want you to watch me”—he withdrew, and she tightened her legs around his ass, never wanting him to leave—“fucking you.” Then he flexed his hips and pushed inside again, all the way in to the hilt, in one decisive stroke, possessing her so completely, so absolutely.
Val panted, trying to regain her breath, her muscles clutching around the hard steel of him, gloving him in slick velvet, the stretch of him sizzling through nerve endings from the base of her spine to the pinched tips of her nipples.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
She wondered if he had any clue just how beautiful he was, all hard and dominant, primed for her pleasure. She supposed plenty of women had told him so, but right now she was his and she was done with talking.
Val pulled her nipples to full stretch and twisted, hard. Her breath catching at the sharp sting. “Are you fucking me or not?”
He withdrew quickly and slammed back in, the shock of it jolting through her body, the action pulling down hard on her clit, and she moaned.
“I’m fucking you.”
And he did. Relentlessly thrusting and withdrawing, hard and deep and fast, his gaze glued to her chest, glued to the bounce of her breasts and the rhythmic squeeze and pinch of her fingers as they taunted her shamelessly aroused nipples.
Just watching him, watch her, was enough to build her orgasm. The heat of his gaze boring into her felt like a finger flicking against her clitoris.
Not that she needed any extra stimulation. The heat and friction built just as hard and deep and fast with the visual of him towering over her, dominating the space between her legs, his hips pistoning. Add to that the noises in the back of his throat—a heady mix of groan and grunt—the hard set of his jaw, and the sudden tremble in his buttocks and forearms, and her orgasm hit warp speed.
It was upon her suddenly and viciously. “Ohhhh God,” she whispered as her muscles clamped hard around his cock, her neck losing control of her head again, her fingers losing their dexterity on her nipples as she shuddered around him.
“Yes,” Kyle muttered, a fine tremor infecting all his muscles now as if he was trying to quell the rise of his own release. “Let it go, Val.” He grunted as he thrust harder, quicker.
Val let it go. All of it. Collapsing onto her back, arching into his body where they joined, her calves clamping down on his ass as pleasure rolled through her, hot and hard and urgent. Undulating through her body, rippling to her thighs and breasts, and tingling its black magic up her spine, innervating everything in its path, spreading the pleasure to every square inch of her.
Starbursts popped like fireworks behind her eyelids as her lungs clawed for breath.
“Val.”
Kyle cried out, and air rushed into her lungs as she opened her eyes in time to watch the climax break over his face. For a moment or two it was frozen in a grimace of concentration as his hips jerked to a halt, his fingertips buried in the flesh of her hip, his cock buried in the tight, slick heat of her. Then his hips jerked back into action, and his face melted into a mask of pure arousal.
Slack-jawed, mouth parted, eyes glazed.
“Fuuuck,” he murmured, their gazes locking as he pumped inside her, spilling his seed.
The movement prolonged her pleasure, and she gasped and panted as he took her higher. “Kyle. Yes. Don’t stop.”
She never wanted him to stop.
He didn’t, not until they were both so sated neither could move. He collapsed on top of her, his face pushed into the side of her neck, gasping like a landed fish, his dick still hard inside her. Val circled his shoulders and held him to her tight, revelling in the afterglow. Revelling in the slow creep of lassitude sinking into her bones and the occasional twitch of muscles where the echoes of pleasure still lingered.
“I think we just broke like a thousand safe food handling laws.”
He snorted, his breath warm on her neck. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
He nuzzled there again, and her nipples responded like she hadn’t just had a mind-altering orgasm. Like they didn’t need any recovery time from her rather brutal handling of them. They tingled and stung as blood surged to them, but they were raring to go nonetheless, greedy for more action.
They were so damn slutty.
“God.” He groaned into her neck, his tongue tracing lazy patterns. “How can I still want to eat you?”
Val felt the same way. But it wasn’t a mystery to her. They had something magical and unique. They had the X factor. Chemistry and sexual compatibility. Not something that occurred together that often. Not something she’d ever experienced with another man. It certainly wasn’t something anyone in their right mind would want to pass up.
But they had to.
The fact he shouldn’t be here and they shouldn’t be doing this was much more stark now that the flush of arousal and endorphins had dissipated. It was back to reality. His career was on the line, and there was no future for them.
Chemistry be damned.
Chapter Seven
Val braced herself to sit. And to say what had to be said. “Let me up.”
He let her up. It was gratifying to hear his soft groan as he withdrew. It went well with the hitch in her breath as he slid from her body.
“There’s a bathroom out that way.” She tipped her chin in the direction of a door as she straightened her bra and pulled her T-shirt down. The door led outside to a private covered alcove that housed toilet facilities.
He nodded. “I’ll just go and clean up.”
He bent to pull up his shorts, and it was only then she realised he hadn’t been completely naked, that his pants had been down around his ankles all the time. A bird’s-eye view of what they must have looked like in their mad, desperate rush to be joined flashed on her inward eye, and she cringed a little, despite the extra little beat in her heart.
Still, she couldn’t help but laugh as he reefed his shorts up to his hips. It was more a holy shit what the hell just happened laugh than anything else, and he laughed, too, and shook his head, staring at their general dishevelment. “That was…”
She laughed again. “Yes. It was.” He held her gaze for a few more moments before striding to the door and exiting.
Val slowly slid off the bench top. It was fair to say she’d never look at this bench as a work space ever again. Hell, she’d probably never get anything done here again, with the ghost of their kitchen quickie a constant companion. She was certainly going to need to disinfect the fucker with industrial strength, hospital grade something. It’d be just her luck one of her clients would come down with some obscure illness caused from bacteria only found in spunk.
That’d be kinda hard to explain to the health department.
She glanced at the three dozen choc chip macadamia biscuits she’d cooked. They’d have to go, too. Nobody would know that they’d sat less than a metre from a fornicating baker and her off-limits lover, but she’d know.
And the health department did not screw around with hygiene.
Her legs wobbled precariously as her feet touched down. Obviously all the parts of her that had liquefied during her orgasm hadn’t yet decided to solidify enough to stand upright. She leaned on the bench for a moment, regaining her land legs, then bent to pick up her shoes and trousers discarded nearby.
By the time Kyle had returned, she was fully dressed and busying herself with packing the biscuits into a bag. “You might as well take these home with you
,” she said briskly, determined to keep things normal with Kyle, to push him back behind that line they’d crossed.
Twice.
“Do you think you can eat three dozen choc chip biscuits?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I think I can manage.”
“You can always take them in to work. The guys’ll help you. They love my bickies.”
“I bet they do.” He scowled at her, but Val just smiled, ignoring his inference. “And how do I explain to them where I got a dozen of your biscuits? Because they’re sure as shit going to ask. Whilst they’re polishing their pitchforks. And I don’t want to throw Eve under a bus.”
Val doubted the guys would be annoyed at Eve. But her father might be. Damn. Every time he opened his mouth, she liked Kyle a little more.
That man sure knew how to use his mouth to good effect.
“Maybe you’re right. There’s nothing for it. You’re going to have to choke them all down.” She shoved them in a Sticky Fingers paper bag and passed them to him with a smile, her hip pressed into the bench.
“I think I can take one for the team.”
They stared at each other for long moments. She didn’t know if it was just her, or just her imagination, but there was a far earthier aroma to the kitchen right now. It smelled more like a boudoir than a bakery, an erotic reminder of their rather animalistic coming together.
She was going to need nuclear strength disinfectant.
Kyle inspected the contents of the bag before returning his gaze to her. “About before.”
“It’s okay, I know. You don’t have to say it. I understand.”
He frowned. “You do?”
“It was a mistake.”
His frown deepened. “Weeeell…I wouldn’t call it a mistake, exactly. Something that good could never be a mistake.”
Oh Lordy. More with the mouth. Val steeled herself against its panty-dropping effects. “You told my father you’d leave me alone. What would you call it?”
