by Never, M.
“Yours definitely is,” I toss out offhandedly.
“So is yours.” He smiles broadly, returning the compliment.
“Mine isn’t nearly as pure.” I drop the bag of beans on the kitchen island where he’s prepping. He emits a little laugh but doesn’t elaborate on his thought. He doesn’t need to; I know he equated my comment to something dirty. Which is fine. I like to get dirty. “What am I doing with these?”
“There’s a colander in the sink. Snap the ends and toss them in there.”
Snap the ends?
He reads my confused facial expression. “Have you never cooked fresh green beans before?”
“Never,” I admit. “I’m not very domestic.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” He wipes his hands on the dish towel draped over his shoulder and leads me over to the sink. He positions me in front of him and then rips open the plastic bag. With his chest pressed against my back and his strong arms encircling me, my blood roars and heartbeat accelerates. “See? Just like this.” He rests his lips next to my ear as he takes one of the long, thin beans and breaks off each pointy tip. “Think you can handle that?”
I turn my head so I can peer up at him through the corner of my eye. “I’m pretty sure I can.” We get caught up in another one of those paralyzing, pulse-pounding spells. Baz tightens his arms around me and attempts another kiss. I don’t move, welcoming the advance. I close my eyes preparing to feel those soft, plump lips when the oven beeps, sabotaging the moment.
“Shit,” Baz hisses, annoyed, before he laughs. We just can’t seem to nail a lip-lock down.
It is sort of funny.
I continue to crack the string beans as he pops the potatoes in the oven.
“Those are going to have to cook for a little while before we put on the string beans and steak.” He leans against the countertop next to me and crosses his arms causally. Christ, he is so inherently male he makes my damn ovaries throb. “Do you want some wine in the meantime?”
Alcohol? Absolutely. “That’d be great.” I finish the last of the beans and grab the towel off his shoulder to wipe my hands.
“Red good?”
“Perfect.” I slap the towel back in place. We both laugh breezily. It’s just too easy. Being together.
Baz pours two glasses of wine, and I notice even that’s organic. “You’re pretty hardcore with your diet, huh?”
Baz takes a tentative sip of his Bordeaux, regarding me over the glass. I get the feeling that question made him uncomfortable.
“I sort of have to be,” he divulges.
“Why?”
He hesitates for a few beats before sharing his thoughts. “I have some issues.” He clears his throat.
“Issues?” I probe.
Baz rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to tell me. We all have some kind of issue. I get it. We just met. You don’t need to lay everything out all at once.”
God knows I’m not going to.
Baz dissects me with those piercing green eyes. What did I say? I was trying to be nice. I take a sip of wine, hoping to move right along from this topic of conversation.
He steps closer to me, and my body reacts on a molecular level. It’s like I can feel him without him even touching me.
“Why are you looking at me like that, Baz?” I question.
“Because I want to tell you. But I’m afraid.” I swear my jaw drops. He’s afraid, and he actually admitted it? Benny immediately pops into my mind. Fear is weakness, Stevie. Don’t be weak.
That has been drilled into my head for as long as I can remember. Don’t be weak. But looking at Baz right now, I don’t see weakness. I just see a man.
“You don’t have to be scared. Whatever it is, I won’t judge. Trust me. I’m the last person on Earth who has any right to do that.”
It’s like we gravitate to each other as we speak, now standing so close our body heat intermingles.
Baz breathes heavily, drinking me in. I won’t push. I’ll just wait until he’s ready to talk.
“I suffer from ADHD and depression,” he discloses, apparently ready. “Diet and exercise are critical to controlling the symptoms.”
I think back to the pills in his medicine cabinet. I assume that’s what they’re for.
“Okay,” I reply as non-judgmentally as possible. “You’re not perfect. No one is.”
The tense look on Baz’s face softens.
“Sometimes I feel like I have to be.”
“You don’t with me.” We settle closer to each other, pulled into yet another magnetizing moment. I lift onto my toes as he leans down to kiss me. I’m so ready, eager, waiting. I can feel his warm breath skirt across my cheek as he clutches my face, and just before our lips finally touch, the connection is broken by my phone ringing loudly.
Fuck. I look over at my bag.
“Do you need to get that?” Baz asks.
Probably.
“I should check to see who it is.” I drive the last nail into the heated moment, completely destroying it.
Baz releases my face with a disappointed huff.
Trust me. I feel you.
I pull the phone out of my bag but miss the call. The caller ID says G. I toss the phone back with a resentful flip.
“Nobody important.” I return to Baz, who is repositioning the potatoes in the oven.
I grab my wine, and before I can take a sip, Baz has me pinned against the kitchen island. The look in his eyes is fierce as he leans in close to my face. My stomach drops as he halts with his nose a hair away from mine. “Next time, no interruptions,” he stipulates sternly. I swallow the razor blades in my throat and nod in agreement. Then he pulls away. I grab onto the edge of the island so my legs don’t give out and send me tumbling to the floor. Holy shit, this man.
I sip my wine slowly as I watch Baz finish up dinner, enjoying every minute of the show.
The sun is starting to set by the time we finally sit down to eat. I’m famished, and everything on the plate looks beyond delicious.
“Okay, take the first bite. Let me know what you think.” Baz pours more wine as he puts me on the spot.
“No pressure or anything,” I tease as I cut into the venison steak. I take a bite, preparing to lie if I don’t like it, but thankfully it tastes as good as it looks. I chew, nodding my head. “It’s delicious.”
That glorious smile breaks out on Baz’s face, and I’m overcome with a satisfaction I’ve never known before. I’m happy he’s happy. How peculiar.
We begin to eat, sticking to small talk. It’s clear neither of us wants to delve too deep into conversation. Which is fine.
But as the night goes on, and we polish off dinner and another bottle of wine, the sexual tension begins to thicken. The air seems to become as flammable as gas, and all it will take is one tiny strike against sulfur to send the whole house up in flames.
The question is, who’s holding the match?
I clear the plates with my pulse beating in my ears. I need to keep busy. Keep focused, or I’m going to end up attacking him right where he’s sitting.
As I pass by Baz on my way back to the table, he snatches my wrist. His touch feels electric, sending bolts of repressed desire coursing through my veins.
“Stevie,” Baz breathes my name, and it’s clearer than crystal who is holding the match.
He pulls gently, guiding my body between his legs. I follow with no resistance, only anticipation. A gnawing, savage anticipation.
Quietly, Baz rests me against the edge of the table. Not a word needs to be spoken because we both knew it was coming and it’s something we both want. Something we’re both starving for. The satisfaction we can only find in each other.
Baz rests his hands on my hips, inhaling indulgently as if absorbing my essence.
“After that dinner, I’m in the mood for something sweet.” Baz’s words are dripping with innuendo.
“Something sweet? Like dessert?”
I play his game.
“Yes.” He pushes my shirt up and caresses my bare torso, skimming the tip of his index finger below the button of my jeans. “Are you sweet?”
“No.” I laugh. I’m only being truthful, but Baz doesn’t seem to buy it.
“Maybe I should be the judge of that. Most people are biased when it comes to the opinion of themselves.”
“I’d be interested in your conclusion.” I lean back and spread my legs slightly.
Baz responds, clutching my waist, unadulterated lust clouding his emerald eyes.
I shift back farther onto the solid wood table as Baz rips open the fly of my jeans. Pressing hot kisses on my lower abdomen, he pulls both my pants and my underwear off in a slow fluid motion. With my heart beating out of control, Baz moves south until his nose is tickling the velvety lips of my pussy. He breathes in deeply, sparking all types of excitement.
I hold my breath as he nuzzles me, simply enjoying my scent.
“You smell so fucking good, Stevie.” He inhales once more. “And you’re so fucking smooth. I don’t think I’ve ever felt skin so soft.” He swipes the tip of his nose along my folds, over and over again.
I should be soft. Benny and Regina forced me to laser off all the hair on my body when I turned eighteen. That was a rough year.
“Let’s see how sweet you taste.” He pushes my legs farther apart then, like he’s savoring me, runs his tongue lazily through the crease of my pussy. We moan in tandem as the whiskers of his beard brush against my delicate, bare flesh.
“Baz.” I drop my head and croon as he locks his arms around my thighs and applies a little more pressure with his tongue. Moving it in a maddening motion around my clit. Round and round he orbit’s the little bud until it’s throbbing and aching. Until I’m squirming in his iron hold, attempting to rock my hips to gain more friction.
“Baz! Oh, fuck, please!” He has me clawing the table, begging for relief. My pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues to lick however and wherever he chooses.
My moans grow louder as the need painfully intensifies.
“Baz, oh, god!” I crunch up, my stomach muscles straining as he dips his tongue into the wet entrance of my pussy. I hyperventilate on the table as a man I barely know, a man I was sent here to kill, bestows on me the greatest pleasure I have ever experienced. One flat swipe of his tongue over my pulsating clit is all it takes to put me out of my misery. I burst like a water balloon as he licks and sucks the swollen piece of flesh until there’s nothing left of me. No life or energy or vigor.
I go limp on the table, lying there incapacitated as Baz gently laps his tongue against me, continuously ingesting the sweetness he was so desperate to taste.
That’s a first kiss I’ll never, ever forget.
Once he’s satisfied, he pulls me up so we are face-to-face. Then he delivers a proper kiss that is just as blinding and powerful and earth-shattering as the orgasm I just experienced.
I believe I’m having an out-of-body experience because I have never connected with another human being the way I connect with Baz. The way I can let my guard down, be myself, and not feel wrong or self-conscious about it.
In a bold, wanton act, I tear the button of his jeans open, push down his pants, and stroke his cock with both hands. He breaks our embrace with a pained moan as I jerk him off until he’s panting.
“I need you. I need to be inside you.” Baz’s breathing is erratic, his hands and mouth fitful as he paws at my body and nips at my lips.
“I’m right here. I want you inside me.” I give him the green light.
“I have no protection.” He groans as I continue to torture him.
“I’m on birth control.” I speak the magic words.
“Oh, thank god.” Baz nearly mauls me right on top of the table.
I can’t help but laugh. A buoyant, carefree laugh that releases something inside me. Quite possibly endorphins.
“Don’t hold back,” I tell him between frenzied kisses. “I like it hard. I like it rough. I like it dirty.”
Baz pauses to look at me. A depraved gleam burning in his eyes. “Good. Cause that’s the only way I know how to fuck.” He picks me up and urges me onto my hands and knees. I buzz with desire, anxious for him to touch me, to use me, to fuck me.
The deep, masculine, pleasure-seeking sounds Baz makes from behind me as he palms my ass and bites my back may be the most arousing melody I have ever heard.
I freeze from a shock of pleasure as Baz spreads my inflamed cheeks and begins to lick me again. Following the path from my clit to my crack and back again until I’m soaking wet. When he presses on my exposed little button hole, I nearly fly off the table. Fear seizing my chest.
“Stevie?” Baz grabs hold of my hips before I can get too far.
“Not there,” I choke out, trying to calm myself down. “Not like that.” I screw my eyes shut fighting the memories threatening to invade.
“I’m sorry.” I feel Baz’s warm chest against my back. His calm voice soothing me. “You said—”
“I know what I said,” I cut him off. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Do you want to stop?”
Stop? I look over my shoulder and meet his worried eyes.
“No.” I smile. “I want you. Badly. Just . . . not that way.” I stuff down my vulnerability, hoping he doesn’t see it.
“I want you badly, too.” He tickles my neck with his beard, the same way he did at the bar. And just like at the bar, I giggle like a little girl. “And if I can’t come in your ass, I’ll just come all over it.”
“Do your worst,” I egg him on, rubbing myself against his erection.
“Mmm.” He buries his face in the curve of my neck and slides his cock through my dewy folds. “I have never wanted a woman as much as I fucking want you.” I’ve never wanted a man as much as I want him. But I’m not ready to divulge that tidbit of information. “From the first second I saw you. I had to have you.” He nudges the head of his cock against my entrance. I push back, more eager than a thrill-seeker.
“Fuck, I hope I fit.” He penetrates my pussy, stretching me immediately.
“Ego, much?” I huff as he pushes in deeper.
“It has nothing to do with ego and everything to do with basic science. You’re small, I’m big.” He strains.
“You’ll fit,” I encourage him. “Don’t be scared. You won’t break me.”
“When you can’t walk tomorrow, I don’t want to hear you complain.” He sinks in deeper, and my inner walls expand exponentially.
“Ah!” I throw my head back as he forces his way inside. Fuck, he is big, and thick and long, I’ve never been so full in my life.
“God, I want to fuck you.”
“So what are you waiting for?”
“I’m only halfway in; I don’t want to hurt you.”
Is this guy for real? He actually cares if he hurts me or not?
“Just do it. I don’t care if it hurts. I just want you, and I want you now.” I continue to push back onto his cock.
“You’re bossy in bed.”
“Technically, we’re on the table.”
“We’ll get there, don’t worry.” He thrusts and I scream.
“Stevie?”
“Baz, don’t stop!”
“Shit, I couldn’t if I wanted to now.” His hips take on a life of their own once he’s fully buried inside me. “Shit, Stevie.” He pounds away, latching onto my breasts as he strikes my sweet spot again and again.
While kneading my chest, Baz hits his stride, driving us both to the peak of pleasure. The twinge of pain as my pussy clamps down adds a rough edge to my impending orgasm. I’ve never experienced a sensation so potent. A man so potent.
“Ah, baby, come with me.” Baz pumps harder, jerking me forward with every thrust. “I want to fall with you.” The exertion in his voice, the stroke of his cock, and pulse of my pussy sends me to that place. The place he wants me to go.
“Baz!” I cry o
ut as I rupture. Wetness coating us both.
“Yes!” he hisses right before he pulls out and I feel the warm spurts of his come shower my ass.
“Fuuuuuck,” he forces out hoarsely as he jerks himself off. The audible sound of his strained breath the ultimate turn-on.
I rest my cheek on my arms with my ass still up in the air as I recuperate. Shit, that was beyond amazing.
“Mmmmm. . . .” Baz circles his come into my skin with both thumbs. “That’s a gorgeous sight.”
I peek over my shoulder to find him biting his lower lip, overly gratified. “What is?” I question, sated.
“You, just like this, marked all over.”
“Do you think you just staked some kind of claim?”
The way his eyes smolder tells me the answer is yes. And somewhere deep down that elates me. Although it shouldn’t. None of this should be happening, but I just can’t fucking help myself. I have no restraint when it comes to Baz. And no remorse either. I don’t regret what just happened, and I’m counting the minutes until we do it again.
“Told you you’d fit.” I wiggle my butt at him.
“As snug as a bug.” He spanks me, and I jump.
“Maybe not that comfortably.”
“We’ll get there.” The lust is evident in his voice. “You were so fucking tight I’m surprised I lasted that long.”
“You should have more faith in yourself,” I tease him.
“I’ll try and take your advice. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Baz helps me to stand then plants a firm, sweet kiss on my neck.
“What was that for?”
“Nothing. Just a gesture of affection.”
I smile a small, insecure smile. “I’m not used to gestures of affection.”
“Well, get used to them. You’re with me.” He kisses my neck again as we move toward the bathroom.
Once inside the grey and white room, Baz turns on the shower, and we step in when the water starts steaming. Before placing me under the spray, Baz releases my bun from the elastic. My long locks fall around my shoulders and cover one of my eyes. Pushing my hair out of my face, Baz urges me under the running water. He washes the come off my backside then takes the liberty of washing my hair. As soon as he squirts the shampoo into his hand, the stall is engulfed in a familiar woodsy scent.
