by Ranae Rose
Unfortunately, the first thing he’d learn about her was that she wasn’t much of a cook. Still, she was making dinner. He’d brought food last time – now it was her turn. Maybe it was crazy, but she wanted to make him something.
While she’d voraciously sought out knowledge on make-up artistry as a child despite not having a mother to teach her, she hadn’t done the same with cooking. Consequently, she’d spent her first few years as an adult eating safe choices like boxed pasta, tacos and tuna sandwiches. At twenty-seven, she was more health-conscious and therefore tried her best to make things that didn’t come out of a box or can.
Tonight, it was chicken parmesan, which was probably her best dish – tomato sauce and liberal amounts of cheese could hide a lot of flaws.
She was almost done making it when her phone chirped with a text from Dylan.
On my way.
Her heart skipped a beat as the breaded chicken breasts sizzled in a skillet.
She texted him back a quick ‘okay’.
As she set the table, anticipation stirred her excitement. Dylan’s news that he’d be staying in Pittsburgh had come out of nowhere, giving sudden life to her fantasies about them being together. He said he was ready for a change – well, so was she.
Emily woke up before he arrived. Crystal put her in her high chair beside the table and got out a little plastic plate and fork. Emily used the fork mainly to smack and fling food, but she had to start somewhere.
When a knock came at the door, Crystal let Dylan in. Though she’d been thinking about him all day – especially since lunch – the surge of heat that rushed through her when she actually laid eyes on him took her by surprise.
His eyes locked with hers immediately, and that was the first thing she noticed. They were dark and there was a depth to them, one that seemed to reflect the bottomless well of desire she felt inside herself each time she looked at him. That desire had been tainted by guilt and wistfulness, until now.
She drew a quick breath as everything inside her became suddenly hotter, tighter. She couldn’t believe he was staying in Pittsburgh. A couple weeks ago, she’d figured it would take years for her to be ready for dating, let alone to find someone she thought would actually enhance her life. But Dylan had changed her mind.
Truth was, she’d be happy to watch drying paint with him too, just to spend time with him. She’d started a relationship sooner than she’d anticipated, but her gut feeling was that this felt too right to turn down – that she’d regret it if she did.
“Smells good in here,” he said, letting his gaze slide slow and intense down the front of her body before glancing past her, toward the kitchen.
“Are you hungry? I’m not much of a chef, but dinner’s almost done.”
“Yeah, but I was planning to ask you if you wanted to order in. You didn’t have to cook for me.”
“Don’t get too excited – I’ll never be one of those cooks who manages to find her way to someone’s heart through their stomach.”
Emily beat her highchair tray with her plastic fork while Crystal turned off the stove and divvied up dinner onto three plates.
“Well, it looks great,” Dylan said.
“It’s just a recipe I found on the side of a tomato sauce jar. It should be edible, but that’s all I can promise.”
She focused on cutting up little pieces of chicken and noodles for Emily, secretly hoping that this batch of chicken parmesan would somehow turn out to be more amazing than she remembered.
It wasn’t, but Dylan lavished her with praise anyway. “This is so good. Wish I could cook like this.”
She was stricken with sudden curiosity about his living arrangements back in New Jersey. Did he live alone or with a roommate? Did he ever cook for himself, and if he did, was his cooking really lamer than hers?
Maybe he was just trying to make her feel good. Which she didn’t really mind. She found herself staring at him, marveling at his incredible sexiness as she cut up her dinner, not bothering to look at her food as she did so.
Eventually, she stopped staring, but only because Emily flung a chunk of chicken into her eye.
Dylan looked up just in time to witness the moment of impact. As Crystal squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of tomato sauce, she caught him trying not to laugh.
After wiping the sauce off her face with a napkin, she tried not to think about what havoc the chicken missile had probably wreaked on her make-up.
Meanwhile, Emily used her fork to play an intense drumroll on her highchair tray, accompanied by a shrieking vocal solo.
Well, at least this evening would give Dylan a taste of what dating the single mom of a toddler was going to be like.
He seemed to think it was funny. His laughter encouraged Emily, who became louder and happier – the world’s cutest show-off.
“If your eye isn’t too hurt, do you want to see what I tattooed today?” Dylan asked when the noise finally died down.
“Yes. And don’t laugh too hard, or I’ll make you trade seats with me.”
He slid his phone across the tiny table. When his fingertips touched hers, her heart skipped a beat. The brief touch had her reeling, her mind and heart racing as she met his eyes.
Maybe it was a little much, but it had been a long time since she’d experienced the excitement that came with a new relationship. And she’d never felt as good about any of the men she’d dated in the past as she did about Dylan. Most of all, her heart raced because she couldn’t help thinking about what might happen later that night, after they finished dinner and she put Emily to bed.
This time, she wouldn’t ask him to leave.
* * * * *
Crystal would want him to leave – after the other day, Dylan was sure of that. This time, he wouldn’t put her in a position where she had to ask.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said, clearing his plate off the table along with hers and setting them on the nearby counter. “You’re a better cook than you let on.”
She smiled. “You’re a flatterer.”
“Not a flatterer, a bachelor. Trust me, this is better than my cooking.”
“What kind of things do you cook?”
“I specialize in flavorless dishes designed for survival and nothing else.”
She laughed.
He hadn’t been kidding.
“Chicken is a staple,” he said. “I’ve got my oven times down to a science, so I can bake chicken breasts without burning them. And rice – can’t go wrong with a rice cooker.”
“So do you eat that every day?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes I go out or pick up something on my way home. Went a little crazy and tried to make pork chops once, but they turned out like charred hockey pucks.”
“Okay. I guess I feel a little better about my cooking. Just a little, though.” She drained her water glass. “Can I make you some coffee?”
“You don’t have to do that.” Although things were different now – very different – the memory of the other night still weighed on him. Staying for coffee would just be setting things up for an awkward repeat.
“I’d better get going,” he said, not wanting to leave, but determined to do so before she got uncomfortable with him being there. “How about we meet up for coffee sometime this week?”
“You have to leave?” she frowned. “I didn’t realize you had anything else planned for tonight.”
“I don’t.” Other than some quality alone time – God, she looked good in the purple tank top she was wearing. If the v-neck had gone any deeper, he would’ve been able to see her bra.
“Oh, God. Was my cooking bad enough that you’re having second thoughts?” She laughed, but not with the enthusiasm she usually did.
“No, I just don’t want to wear out my welcome.” He glanced at her and Emily, who was still in her high chair, playing with a piece of pasta.
Crystal’s face turned pink. “Oh. Listen, Dylan… I know the other day was awkward. But I was hoping that you’d stay toni
ght.”
He felt himself getting overly-warm, even though the central air was running. “I only planned on having dinner. Don’t feel like there’s any pressure to do more just because we plan to keep seeing each other now.”
He waited for a gold medal to drop out of the air to commemorate his self-restraint. He meant what he’d said, but only in deference to her desires. Every bit of him wanted to stay – late.
She smiled, and that combined with her blush made him ache more than ever to stay right there, behind locked doors with her.
“I don’t feel like there’s any pressure. Not from you, anyway. But I want you to stay. I wanted you to the other day, too – so badly I could hardly stand it. That’s why I asked you to leave. Now though…”
She tipped her head slightly to the side. “Let’s just put it this way: I consider dating you and holding back mutually exclusive. I can only exercise so much self-restraint.”
Her blush was brilliant now, and his head was starting to spin.
“If you’re sure.” He tried to sound like he was still capable of walking out the door.
“I am.” She stood, reached out and took his hand.
He didn’t dare move. Even holding hands with her made him want to do things he’d never dare to do with a kid in the room.
“I was thinking that after I put Emily to bed, we could watch a movie. Or pretend to. It’s up to you.”
He wasn’t sure he could make it through a movie – his heart was beating so fast, he was afraid it might explode before they got to the end credits.
* * * * *
There was no movie – they didn’t even pretend to choose one. Instead, after putting Emily to bed, Crystal approached Dylan and pressed her mouth against his. Lightly, at first, then a little harder.
She stopped just as his tongue slipped forward, drawn irresistibly toward her lips, watering at the thought of tasting her.
“I’m so nervous,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Want to know something awful? I’ve been daydreaming about this all day, and I bumped one of my clients in the eye with a mascara wand because I was so distracted wondering what you taste like.”
A deep, pervading sense of victory swept through him. Crystal wanted him – wanted him like he wanted her. He breathed deeper, hoped harder.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, and her belly pressed against his hard cock.
He groaned. “Fuck, Crystal. I want you so bad it hurts.”
He had to adjust his dick so that his zipper wasn’t pressing against it.
Her gaze dropped, and her lips cracked. She touched the swell of the lower one with the tip of her tongue, and a fresh surge of lust snapped through him like electricity. He liked the way she stared at his cock. And he liked the thought of those open, glossy lips wrapped around it.
CHAPTER 10
“Do you and Emily have separate rooms?” Dylan asked, his thoughts racing on a single track, presenting him with visions of Crystal on her back, her knees, her bed. So many fantasies dive-bombed his mind that he couldn’t keep track of them all at once.
“Yes.”
He wrapped his arms around her and picked her up, holding her close against his chest. “Which one’s yours?”
She laughed as he carried her down the short hallway. “Straight ahead.”
He carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the peach-colored bedspread. Kneeling between her thighs, he slipped his hands beneath her shirt and raised it. He couldn’t wait, had to know what her naked body would feel like against his.
She arched her back, making it easier for him to raise her shirt. Then she helped him pull it over her head.
He wasted no time in unhooking her bra, then removing it to reveal breasts he’d tried to picture more times than he could count.
They were lily-white, with pale pink nipples. Just the right size to fit in the palms of his hands.
She sighed when he cupped them, and he took advantage of her open mouth, leaning down to kiss her deeply for the first time.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her. Removing his hands from her breasts, he put them in her hair instead, holding her that way as he teased her tongue with his.
When she moaned, the sound and the vibrations put him dangerously close to coming in his jeans. He kept kissing her until he felt her hands slipping beneath his shirt and sliding over his abs. A shiver of pleasure zipped down his spine, and he stopped to pull his shirt over his head, wanting more of her touch.
“Wow.” Her half-whispered praise stoked the fire raging inside him for her, burning away any inhibitions he’d had, his attempts to master his desires.
She stroked his chest and he cupped her breasts again, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs. They got harder, pinker. And when he leaned down to taste them, he felt them swell against his lips. Especially the one he drew into his mouth.
She gasped and arched, pushing her breast against his face. He teased her nipple with his tongue, then lightly with his teeth, sucking until she moaned.
Then he pressed his mouth against the swell of her opposite breast and did it all over again.
“I could come,” she breathed when he finally stopped. “One touch from you and I think I could come, right now.”
“How do you want me to touch you?”
She sighed. “Rub the head of your cock against my clit.”
She wriggled out of her jeans with lightning speed, and he took her cue, unbuttoning and unzipping his. His cock rose hard between the zipper’s parted teeth, aching to do as she’d asked. He cast his jeans and underwear aside as she peeled off a pair of lacy panties.
The thought of her putting on something so sexy in preparation had him sighing and sinking between her bare thighs.
She was slender and he was big, had muscle where she had delicate curves and long lines. His body spread her thighs wide apart, revealing her naked pussy.
He could see her pink folds glistening, she was that wet. And he could see that her clit was already swollen. Grabbing his cock by the base, he braced himself above her and pressed the head against the hot, delicate flesh she’d allowed him to expose.
Upon contact, his first thought was how easy it’d be to slip inside her, thrust his way in and fuck her until he hit a furious climax. But the way she sucked in a breath when he applied pressure to her clit reminded him of what she’d asked for, what she wanted.
He used his dick to massage her, working the head over her swollen bud like a toy. She writhed and he went harder, plying her with pressure and friction that felt good to him too. Good, but nothing like what he craved, which was to be buried inside her. Mostly, the pleasure he derived from this came from watching her move beneath him.
He could watch her do that all day, would do anything to keep her hips rolling in rhythm with his motions, to hear her breathing growing more and more rapid.
She came fast, and hard, just like she’d predicted. First she froze beneath him, and then she rocked her hips again, heating the head of his dick with hard friction. When he looked at her face, he saw that her eyes were tightly shut, and there was a dent in her lower lip.
She was biting it, holding in a moan that he could hear, low and restrained.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when she was still.
“Wrong?” She opened her eyes. “God, nothing.”
He let go of his dick and brushed a thumb across her lower lip. “You’re bleeding.”
“I am?”
“Just a little.” There was a tiny smudge of blood on her lip, barely there, but making him wonder what part of what they’d just done she hadn’t enjoyed.
She wiped a hand across the back of her mouth and looked down at the sheets. “I didn’t want to wake up Emily.”
“Oh. Right.” He hadn’t thought of that – hadn’t tried to hold himself back when she made him so hot he couldn’t keep quiet anymore. “Still, don’t hurt yourself.”
“I don’t want to get interrupted
– actually, it’s the last thing I want.” She laid a hand on his thigh, and his dick twitched in sweet agony.
He kissed her hard, pushing his tongue inside her mouth, far past her damaged lip.
She responded with enthusiasm, and as their tongues twined together, she wrapped her hand around his dick.
He moaned and kissed her harder, encouraged by her touch, wanting to devour her.
When she dragged her hand up the length of his shaft and cradled his balls in her other one, he couldn’t kiss her anymore. All he could do was revel in how good it felt – her fingers around his shaft, their tips brushing the head of his cock. And then there was the way she teased him below, her touch firm against balls that ached for her.
“You’re just like I imagined,” she said, and the way she stroked him left no doubt as to what she meant.
“Spent a lot of time imagining this, did you?” He teased her, but the thought made him unbearably hot. To think that during all the times he’d jacked off trying to slake his lust, she’d been thinking of him the same way, felt mind-blowingly good.
“Yes.”
He sucked in a breath as she touched the head of his dick, gently tracing the slit, her touch feather-light. He was about to ask her what she’d imagined – get her to spill all her secrets – when she knelt down and pressed her mouth against his cock.
Holy fuck. He hadn’t been prepared. Swearing, he tensed up as she laid her hands on his thighs and parted her lips.
He put a hand in her hair, fingers curved against her skull, and resisted the urge to thrust into her mouth. Barely.
She made his self-restraint worth it. After a while, a tremor started in his thighs, and he had to decide whether to come in her mouth or use his fistful of hair to stop her.
The decision was easy. What he wanted most of all was to come with her pussy pulsing around him, milking everything he had out of him. Nothing else would satisfy.
