eXcessica publishing
Seducing the Sexy Celebrity Chef © March 2013 by Giselle Renarde
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
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First Edition March 2013
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Seducing the Sexy Celebrity Chef
By Giselle Renarde
Holly didn’t care if everyone thought she was crazy—she was going to get more than just an autograph from Chef Burley.
She’d arrived hours before the book signing, thinking she’d be first in line. She should have known better. Every horny housewife in town was queued outside the yet-to-open restaurant, drooling for a taste of the sexy celebrity chef.
“I can’t get enough of Chef Burley,” said one woman in the line-up.
“I know what you mean,” another chimed in. “Every time I watch his show, it gets me so worked up I pounce on my hubby. Poor guy doesn’t know what hit him!”
Holly hugged Chef Burley’s cookbook tight to her chest. As far as she knew, the sexy celebrity was single, just like her. Those women didn’t know how lucky they were, having husbands to warm their beds. If they realized their good fortune, they wouldn’t be hanging around out here, discussing all the dirty things they’d like to do with the chef.
When the line finally started to move, Holly’s stomach dropped. No, she couldn’t do this. Come face to face with the man whose presence, even on TV, made her ache with want? No. No way.
But she didn’t turn around. She didn’t leave. As the line moved forward, so did she, step by step, until an assistant asked her, “Who would you like your autograph made out to?”
“To Holly,” she said.
Without another word, the austere assistant tore the cookbook from her arms.
She was still three side-steps away from Chef Burley, but if she leaned forward and looked down the table, she could see him. He was right there, in the flesh! They were breathing the same air. Unbelievable!
Holly bit her lip to keep herself from squealing. She always squealed when she watched his TV show—squealed, and throbbed, and wished for just a few minutes alone with him.
When Holly’s turn came up, her knees nearly buckled. She’d worn a push-up bra, just for him. Bending forward, she let her low-cut blouse fall open. For Chef’s eyes only!
Chef Burley looked up, and his eyes bulged. A playful smirk bled across his lips. “Have you been waiting long?”
Holly giggled like a schoolgirl. Oh, his accent! He was so sophisticated, so unlike the blockheads in this town. She wanted to grab his white chef’s jacket, pull him across the table, and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe.
Instead, Holly tittered and chewed her nail while Chef Burley scrawled his signature across the front page of his book. Every day on her way to work, she rehearsed what she’d say if she ever met him. Now he was right there, close enough to grab, and she didn’t know what to do.
“Thanks for buying my book,” Chef Burley said, looking her straight in the eye. Oh, those baby blues! They made her feel faint. “I hope you enjoy it, Sally.”
She giggled and nodded as a second assistant handed back her copy of the cookbook. Their gazes lingered while she backed away. She was so besotted she just about walked into the drinks table.
Wait… had Chef Burley called her Sally?
Taking a glass of white wine, Holly sat at one of the tables and opened her book. Sure enough, the inscription was made out to Sally, not Holly. That assistant must have given Chef Burley the wrong name. She thought to go back, but she didn’t want to make a fuss. She was embarrassed, even though the mistake wasn’t hers.
The afternoon passed in a haze. Holly leaned her elbows against her lonely table and gazed meekly at the celebrity. He was even more striking in person. His blondish hair was styled haphazardly, his face clean shaven, his features somewhere between chiseled and boyish. She wanted to see his arms, his chest, his whole body, naked. He was right there, and yet worlds away.
“We’re closing up now,” one of the assistants said, interrupting her hardcore fantasy of showering with the chef. “Thanks for coming.”
“Oh, but… sorry, I don’t want to cause any trouble…”
“Hey, now.” Chef Burley walked over, looking supremely concerned. “What’s the trouble? Sally, was it?”
Holly couldn’t believe he remembered her name… even if it was the wrong name. She told him about the mistake, and saw genuine concern in his face. He said he’d correct the error. If she gave him her address, he’d send her autographed copies of all his books.
Holly couldn’t help herself. She sprung up from the chair and wrapped her arms around his neck, saying, “Thank you, Chef.”
Once she’d pressed her body against his, she couldn’t move. Her breast swelled against the solid plane of his chest. Her whole body felt full, warm and tingling. She just wanted him to… take her.
“I can finish up here,” Chef Burley shouted to his staff. “Good job, everyone. You can be off now.”
Holly tucked her head against the chef’s shoulder while they left. She knew exactly what those people were thinking, and it wasn’t complimentary. But, oh, the scent of Chef Burley’s skin sent her to heaven. The smell of a clean man, mixed with cloves and hearty meats, made her want to lick him all over.
“Now, then,” he said once the place had cleared out. “How do you like my new restaurant? It hasn’t launched just yet.”
“It’s nice.” Holly could feel his breath on her cheek, and it made her weak. “Chef, I love your show. Some of my friends say you’re mean when you’re helping other cooks, but I know it’s your passion talking. You really care about people, even people you’ve just met.”
“That’s very true.” He pressed his large hands into the small of her back, holding her against his big body. “I care about you, for instance.”
Holly jerked her head back, feeling her cheeks flush. “You don’t. You’re only saying that.”
“The world is full of liars,” Chef Burley said, looking boldly into her eyes. “I’m not one of them.”
Before she could say another word, his lips were on hers. He pressed his mouth firmly to her mouth while he ran one hand all the way up her back. It settled at the base of her head, warming her neck as it caught her hair. She was so stunned she didn’t react, at first. When she felt his tongue prying open her teeth, she felt sixteen again—never been kissed.
&nb
sp; Despite her innocent reluctance, Chef Burley’s hot tongue found its way inside her mouth. This was high romance mixed with sheer heat. It was a fairy tale that wouldn’t involve just a magic kiss—it would end with him tearing her clothes off and fucking her hard without leaving this gorgeous restaurant. She hoped the last person out had locked the front door.
Holly kissed the chef madly, climbing him like a tree. She should be ashamed of herself, but she wasn’t. When would she ever get another opportunity like this?
“You’re my fantasy,” she panted while he kissed the length of her neck. “I watch you on TV and imagine you in my bed. I bet all the girls tell you that.”
“I don’t care about all the girls,” he growled. “All I care about is you.”
“You probably say that to everyone.”
“I don’t say that to anyone.” Digging his fingers into her bottom, Chef Burley boosted Holly onto the table. “But believe what you will.”
“Why me?” she asked.
Rather than answering, he ripped open her blouse. Holly shrieked as buttons flew across the dining room. Her bra was exposed, and her breasts swelled in the white lace cups.
Chef Burley looked her straight in the eye. She believed him when he said, “I don’t know why, Holly. From the moment I saw you, I just… I don’t know.”
As he went back to his fevered exploration, her whole body ached for his mouth. She couldn’t hold out any longer. Grabbing his coat with one hand, she said, “You don’t need to explain it. Just show me… show me hard!”
He growled as she pulled him closer. When their mouths met for the second time, it was fireworks. His tongue whipped against hers, battling for supremacy. This was exactly how she’d imagined his kisses: hot, hard, like he was barely in control of his actions. There was something about the chef that inspired fear in her, and in everybody, because you never quite knew if he was about to crack.
Holly’s stomach clenched as she worried again if the restaurant was locked. Pulling away from the chef’s forceful mouth, she said, “Wait, what if someone walks in?”
He smirked. “Then they’ll find me sucking your spectacular tits.”
Before Holly could process what Chef Burley had said, he pulled her satin blouse down her shoulders. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, struggling out of both garments while the chef dove at her breasts.
“My God!” He traced his cheek across her chest. “You’ve got the most gorgeous pair I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re just saying that,” Holly tittered.
Chef Burley’s unseen stubble itched Holly’s nipples in the most wonderful way. They hardened to pebbles, as if they could fight off the burn. They couldn’t, of course. His stubble blazed against her flesh as he rolled both breasts around his charming face.
“You could do that all day!” Holly moaned as he flicked her nipples with his thumbs. His hands weren’t as soft as she’d imagined, but she liked their roughness. “Will you suck them?”
Chef Burley glanced up at her, still toying with her tits. “I thought you said I could do this all day.”
“It’s torture,” she whimpered, closing her eyes. “Oh god, Chef, I want to feel your hot mouth all over my body.”
“Everywhere?”
“Yes!”
“Here?” His lips landed against her sweetly puckered nipple.
“Yes!”
Holly guessed someone with Chef Burley’s intensity would suck her nipples violently, tearing into them, leaving her bloodied and sore. She was surprised by the deft care he showed. His skilled tongue bathed her breasts in warmth. She should have known he would savour her body like a fine repas.
“Everywhere,” Holly whispered. “I want to feel your tongue everywhere, Chef.”
“Mmm!”
He didn’t shift from her nipples, and part of her didn’t want him to. She’d never experienced such full pleasure. With every lick, she felt larger than life. Her body seemed to expand, like a helium balloon, floating to the rafters. She watched the scene from outside herself, and warm desire gushed between her legs.
“Please,” she begged. “Oh please, Chef Burley, lick me lower.”
“Lower?” He teased her, planting kisses down her stomach, nipping at the curve of flesh that gave way to her belly button. “You mean here?”
Holly giggled, pushing his head away. His hair surprised her. On TV, it looked like it would be crispy and full of gel, but it wasn’t. It was soft—soft and blond and beautiful. She wove her fingers through it, then made a fist. She expected him to wince, but he didn’t. He only looked up at her, his eyes burning with desire. They seemed to say, “Don’t go there unless you mean it.”
But Holly was serious as hell.
“Lick me, Chef.”
As their violent stares mingled, Holly wondered just who was in control, here. She got the sense, from his TV presence, that Chef Burley would never do anything he didn’t want to.
Staring him down, she asked, “Do you like the taste of pussy, Chef?”
His eyes blazed, like the question made him angry. For a moment, Holly cringed. She had no idea what this man was capable of.
Chef Burley grabbed her thighs and spread them so wide her muscles ached. When her feet found chairs to rest on, she planted her heels in the seats. Her short leather skirt had ridden up, revealing the white lace thong that matched the bra she’d launched across the room. He seemed to like it, if the raw hunger in his eye was anything to go on.
“Eat me.” It wasn’t like Holly to act so slutty, but Chef Burley brought out her inner vixen. “Plant your face between my legs, Chef. I want to come on your tongue.”
He looked up at her, seemingly in awe. Maybe he liked hearing the dirty talk as much as she liked saying it.
“What are you waiting for?” Holly lifted her ass off the table, just enough for the chef to push her skirt up past her hips. “You want my pussy? It’s right here.”
Chef Burley snarled like a white wolf, sending a shiver down Holly’s spine. She felt like a rabbit, tempting the unrestrained canine, knowing from his ice blue eyes that he wanted to consume her.
“Go on,” she ordered, hearing her voice echo through the rafters. “Eat me.”
He dove between her legs, biting her cunt through the lace of her thong. She cried out because, at first, she wasn’t sure if it hurt or felt orgasmically good. His teeth dug into her pussy lips. His mouth soaked the slick gusset of her underwear. If he’d looked wolfish before, now he seemed barely human. She kept waiting for him to rip off his kitchen garb and transform into some kind of half-man, half-wolf. The idea would have made her laugh if she hadn’t been so turned on.
“Lick my pussy. Lick my skin!”
His teeth pressed her swollen lips against her clit, arousing spikes of pleasure she couldn’t tamp down. No one had ever eaten her like this before. It was positively savage! He was an animal, devouring her flesh with no regard for anything but raw sensation.
Reaching between her legs, Holly pulled her thong to the side, exposing her naked pussy. She’d shaved bare, just for him, on the off-chance she worked up the nerve to seduce him. Now that it was happening, she couldn’t believe it was real. Chef Burley, the sexy celebrity every woman in town lusted after, was licking her smooth, wet pussy with a tongue so soft and huge it felt like a pink velvet pillow.
“Yes, Chef!” Holly’s fist tightened in his hair while he worked tirelessly between her legs. “Lick my sweet clit. It’s all fat and hot and aching, just for you.”
“Your pussy is mine!”
She never thought this would happen. Not in a million years.
“Yes!” Holly lifted her ass off the table, feeding him hot pussy. “Suck it! Make me come hard.”
Pussy juice dripped down the chef’s chin. His face gleamed as he looked at her, an expression somewhere between ferocity and petulance.
Holly’s muscles shook as she held her body aloft. She needed him to grab her ass, support it, and then
dive in and eat her like a watermelon.
Chef Burley’s calloused hands cradled her silky smooth cheeks. Her folds spread, like they had a life of their own, beckoning his mouth. When his tongue flattened against her clit, a sizzle passed through her body. She writhed against his face, feeling the meat of his tongue lapping her heat.
Holly watched him, beyond the quivering swell of her breasts. He seemed close to ecstasy just licking her cunt, but Holly knew what would put her over the edge. “Suck my clit.”
Growling unrepentantly, Chef Burley plunged deeper between her legs. Driving hard, he drew her bud between his lips and sucked it the way he’d sucked her nipples. Oh, if only she could reach up and squeeze her tits right now, but both hands were pressed firmly against the table.
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