by Casey Diam
“Okay.”
“Who taught you how to cook?”
“My mom. I don’t know how to cook most things. This is just one of the specials. We need a large bowl. You can do the ricotta mix, and I’ll tell you what to put in it.”
As I removed the large bowl from the cupboard, she separated the ingredients on the counter.
“These will go into the mix. As for the salt and pepper, just a sprinkle should be enough—or let me know when you get to those. You might have heavy hands.”
“Heavy hands?”
“You might pour more than necessary, and we wouldn’t want too much salt or pepper; less is always better.”
Paige cut and sautéed the onions and peppers at the same time, pausing to crack an egg into the mix I was stirring. Her hair tickled my arm, and her closeness made me even more aware of the growing weight in my pants. I needed to touch her, and I was starting to wonder how she didn’t want to do the same.
Can’t she feel the magnetism, the fucking fire between us?
After a few minutes, the lasagna was in the oven, which, in my head, meant it was playtime.
“Wow, I forgot how easy this was to make.” She dried her hands on a napkin. “What do you think?”
“I might need your supervision next time, but then I could do it... maybe.” Removing a bottle of sweet, sparkling wine from the fridge, I pulled two wine glasses from the cupboard and set them on the kitchen island.
“I’m not really a wine drinker,” she said, watching me pour a glass.
“No?”
She scrunched her face and shook her head. “I don’t like the taste.”
“Have you ever had champagne?”
She jerked her head again, and I lifted the glass with the light-yellow liquid still fizzing. “Try it. And, if you don’t like it, I guess I’ll be drinking alone.”
Her fingers brushed mine as she cupped the glass, and I blinked. I fucking needed her in ways I couldn’t even put into words.
She smiled after a taste. “I like it.”
I grinned. “Good. So, what now? We just wait?”
Wine glass to her lips, she nodded.
Taking a gulp from my glass, I leaned against the counter. “What do you want to do while we wait?”
The brief moment she looked at me, I saw the desire in her eyes. But then, biting her bottom lip, she stared at the glass in her hand. My cock pulsed with need. She wanted me.
Why can’t she say it or make the first move?
There was no doubt I was interested in her.
Is she really this shy? What can I do to make her feel more comfortable with me?
“Actually, I know what we can do. You can help me search for furniture.” Setting my glass down, I pulled my laptop to the edge of the island.
“I don’t think I’ll be much help. My apartments are always furnished.”
“Oh, well, we can both get some practice then. Come on, I’m sure you have some great female intuition on these things.”
She set her glass next to mine, rested two fingers on the touchpad, and scrolled down the page. “What kind of look are you going for?”
Moving behind her, I leaned over and inhaled her hair. She stood about a foot below me, the perfect height for me to rest my chin on her head, but that would be weird right now.
“Whatever you like—as long as it isn’t girlie.”
She chuckled and clicked on a flowery blue sofa. “I don’t think this is girlie. With the right decorations, it could really bring the place out.”
I walked closer and rested my hands on her hips. “I don’t think so. I bet you would never buy that for your place.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“The way you dress. It’s casual, nothing fancy or too girlie.”
She stayed quiet, and I lifted my hands to her shoulders and massaged. She was tense, but the more my hands kneaded into her shoulders, the less tense she became.
“See anything yet?” I asked, knowing she’d stopped paying attention.
“No.” She sighed as I loosened a knot in her shoulders. “I think leather would suit you.”
“Are you afraid of touching me?”
A few seconds went by before she responded, “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Why?”
Her head tilted back into my chest, and I moved my hands back down to her hips, which were still a safe distance from the bulge in my jeans.
“I don’t know what you want.”
“What if I told you that me touching you was for selfish reasons? I see you, and I can’t help myself. I have to touch you and then hope to hell you like it as much as I do.”
She rotated to face me, and a set of round, innocent baby-blues peered up. “But you’re still much more experienced. So, subconsciously, you’re doing what you know I’ll like.”
Smiling, I took her wrists in my hands and brought them to my chest. “I’m a guy. We’re not that hard to figure out. Whatever you do to me, trust me, it’s what I want. So, just do what you want. I’m all yours.”
My hands fell back to her hips, and her hands lay flat on my chest for a moment before she began to explore, running them over my chest, my arms, my abs, over the thin fabric of my T-shirt while her eyes followed. My muscles flexed beneath her touch as she continued a slow, easy torture on my body.
“You work out a lot,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Me, too.” She found interest in my hardened nipples and began to circle her fingers over them before settling to play with them.
I let out a breath. “I really like that. Not the you-working-out thing, but what you’re doing right now.”
She bit the smile on her lips, and I leaned down, edging my hands up her back and stroking the strands of her hair between my fingers. She lifted onto her toes, elevating up to me until my mouth brushed over hers. And, as my hands roamed her body, my lips caressed hers. She tasted like bubblegum again; it had become my favorite flavor.
I added more pressure to my lips and gripped her waist as my cock strained in my jeans. Needing some type of relief from the ache, I pressed my hips into hers, wedging her against the island. A small moan escaped her, and my heart thundered in my chest. I wanted to taste her. I had to taste her. Tangling my fingers in her hair, I cupped the back of her neck.
“Paige,” I mumbled, my lips still touching hers.
Chapter Sixteen
Paige
Caleb kissed me again before he said, “I need to feel your other lips against my mouth, my tongue. Please let me. You don’t have to do anything to me. Just let me taste you.”
The wetness in my underwear increased, and my sex clenched. I sucked his bottom lip between mine and nibbled the same way he’d been doing to me, my confidence mounting with the last few minutes we’d spent enjoying each other. He made me feel safe, comfortable, like I could experiment with him. My hands glided beneath the back of his shirt, and the heat from his skin calmed the rising nerves.
“Okay,” I said.
Caleb’s lips crushed to mine with such a raw hunger, I wondered if I was making a mistake, but at the same time, I desired this mistake. Only one other guy had done that to me, and I’d liked it up until he penetrated me with his fingers. Then it had just been more pain than pleasure, so I’d stopped him.
I was lost in Caleb’s enticing kisses by the time I felt his hands sliding my pants down my thighs. And, as he kissed my neck, I melted. Those were my favorite kisses from him.
He lowered himself to his knees, and I covered my now-naked front; my tee wasn’t long enough to be of much help, but I pulled it down to the apex of my thighs regardless, exposing more of my bra. Caleb looked up at me, dark lust swirling in his eyes as I stepped out of the pants around my feet. I bit my lip as our eyes held.
“You’re so damn gorgeous,” he said, rubbing his hands up the backs of my thighs and placing a kiss on the front of one before standing.
He let his hands wander over my hips to my wa
ist, his mouth trailing kisses up my neck again. Then I felt his erection pressing onto my arm, which was still posing as shelter over my nakedness. He was so hard, so big. Nerves tingled along my spine. If I hurt from just fingers, I couldn’t imagine that whole thing penetrating me.
“I can’t eat your pussy if you’re hiding it.” His bold words and warm breath tickled my ear, and my nipples tightened.
That’s the only thing he’ll do. He won’t do anything else, right? Should I tell him? He doesn’t need to know if he’s just... the other guys I dated didn’t know.
His tongue dipped into my ear, and my legs almost gave out. He must have felt it because his hands traveled down and grabbed my ass. Cool air passed over my sex as he separated the cheeks, and my face warmed. I was exposed but not really, as he couldn’t see down there.
“What if I don’t like it?” I whispered as if someone else could hear.
Caleb chuckled. “You’ll love it.”
He kneaded my ass, and as the lips of my sex opened and closed, a need I’d never felt before rose. So deep and strong in my belly that I clenched. He continued doing that, as he watched me, smiling as I pulled my hand from between us. I wanted to look at or even touch his bulge that had pushed against me earlier, but shyness won me over, so my hands went around his neck. He kissed me, and I felt a cool fluid trickle down my thigh.
“Oh my God,” I said, pressing my thighs together.
“What?” Caleb asked.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Really? Now?” One of his fingers slipped between my cheeks and into the wetness that was everywhere.
“Yes,” I shrieked, jumping.
“Damn, you’re so fucking wet.”
“What?”
The way he’d said it made it sound like a good thing. I paused, studying his face, as one of his hands lifted, and I feared what would come up. My period was always on schedule and wasn’t due for at least two weeks, but really, it would be my luck. He showed a glistening index finger, and I drew in a breath as he stuck the finger into his mouth and sucked.
“At least let me clean you up.” He lowered to his knees again, looking up at me as he did. “Unless you want to drip all over my apartment. I mean, I don’t mind, but I’d much rather... am I going to have to pry your legs apart?”
“Caleb...” My voice trailed off as his hands cupped my ass again, forcing my sex open from behind.
I wanted him, but I was embarrassed. I’d never had stuff running down my thighs like this, and I didn’t want him to see that. But the things he was saying made it seem like it was okay. He kissed what he could of the private area still hidden before him.
“Paige, you might be the first girl who’s ever refused my tongue.”
“But it’s everywhere.” I frowned.
He looked up at me, wiggling his eyebrows. “I know. Now, open up, so I can taste.”
I separated my thighs, and Caleb groaned, wasting no time before his chin dipped between my legs. His tongue slid along my folds, and... wow. It was exactly what I needed. The pleasure from his tongue and the scratching of his five o’clock shadow on my inner thighs caused me to spread my legs wider, giving him access to soothe the crippling desire exploding inside me. He sucked, and I held on to the counter behind me for support.
His tongue dipped into my entrance, and his name came from my lips in a whispered moan. “Caleb.”
“Why don’t you have some more of the sparkling wine?” he encouraged.
Lifting the glass from the counter, I only took a sip so I could continue to watch what he was doing to me. He was good, so good, until he stopped and stood, moving our wine glasses and his laptop to the other counter while I pouted. I didn’t want him to stop.
He grinned. “Don’t freak out.”
He grasped my waist and lifted me onto the kitchen island. Sitting on a stool, he lifted one of my legs over his shoulder, and then he licked up my thigh where my wetness had spread earlier. I stared at him in wonder, and he watched me watching him as he spread his tongue over my sex. Licking and swirling until my body weakened.
I rested my hands behind me as he sucked on a finger before sliding it up and down my sex. He slipped it inside and I tightened around his finger as fear returned, but then I realized it didn’t hurt at all. I relaxed, enjoying the feel of his warm mouth and skilled finger. After a few minutes, I got lost in the sensation as a slow coil of heat started to build.
“You’re so tight,” Caleb remarked, his finger doing a gentle glide in and out as his tongue settled over my clit, swiping side to side, up, down... down, up.
As my body tensed, he removed his finger, and his mouth covered me. I couldn’t even see, only feel, as his tongue lapped. With a shake of his head, my hips lifted off the island, waves of pleasure soaring through me. I threw my head back, and as my hips reached for more, his mouth continued to move. When I settled down, Caleb just sat there on the stool between my legs, placing kisses right below the now-sensitive nub. Him doing that refueled something in me. I didn’t understand how it was possible after I had an orgasm, but a strong desire to be filled stirred so low that, when he stuck his tongue at my entrance, I opened up for him.
“What are you doing?” I rasped.
“Waiting for the food to be ready and working on taking away a few layers of your shyness.” The soft vibrations teased me as his voice muffled against me. “Have you always been this shy?”
“Yes.” I smiled.
“Will you give me problems the next time I want to kiss here?” he said, kissing me there.
I grinned. “No.”
“Good. My work here is done then.” He stood, and my eyes drifted toward his pelvis where his erection looked ready to tear through his jeans.
“Uh...” I began.
He followed my gaze. “It’s fine. I’m good.”
Chapter Seventeen
Caleb
It had been minutes since my face had been buried between her thighs, and my cock was still so hard that I was sure all circulation was about to be cut off from the constant pressure.
I was not good.
I sat on a stool at the island and watched as Paige served our spinach and mushroom lasagna. I should have gone to the bathroom and taken care of myself, but I didn’t want her to think I had no control. I did. Usually. Just not around her. Because I was three seconds away from sliding my hand into my pants and stroking myself right beneath the fucking island. I positioned my elbows on the counter to fight that urge. Too bad I leaned my hands close to my face and even though I’d washed them, I still smelled her on my fingers. Closing my eyes, I swallowed as my dick throbbed in pain.
Fucking hell.
“Is this enough?” she asked, turning with the plate held high.
My mind, stupefied by her addictive scent, told me to shake my head. As if she were asking if feasting on her pussy was enough.
Of course not.
She turned to place more food onto the plate, and I stopped her. “No, yeah. Sorry. That’s enough.”
She’d tasted so good. So wet and tight. I could barely get two fingers in. It made me wonder how long it’d been since she was with a guy. My eyes settled on the firm shape of her ass as she turned to put food onto her own plate. She’d stuffed her underwear in her bag because it was too wet to put back on, so knowing she was going commando beneath those joggers was not doing my cock any favors right now.
I got up, opened the fridge, and just stood there, though at this point, climbing inside the freezer would be a better option.
“You okay?” Paige asked, taking a seat on her stool.
My fingers tapped on the fridge door. “Yeah, I guess I was a bit warm.” Removing the sparkling wine, I refilled both our glasses and sat across from her.
“Looks good. Let’s see how you did,” Paige said, bringing the fork to her mouth.
“How I did?” I laughed. “Are you trying to put the blame on me if it doesn’t taste good?”
“No, you did the most important part, mixing all those ingredients together. I just—”
“Very smooth, Paige. Very smooth.”
She burst into laughter, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“I’m not putting the blame on you. You did do the most important part.”
Her eyes watered, and I laughed, shaking my head.
“I’m so disappointed.”
She continued to giggle. “Fine, if it tastes bad, I’ll take all the blame.”
“Nope. It’s too late,” I said, digging in as Paige scooped up the food that had fallen back onto her plate with all the amusement. I chewed and savored the cheese, onions, and peppers mixed together. “Wow. It’s good. Like, really fucking good. Let your mom know she did awesome with you.”
She chewed on her lip and studied the contents on her plate before bringing her glass to her lips.
“TTM?” I asked, and she nodded. “Sorry. I won’t mention it again.”
“She, uh... they, um...” She shook her head. “Never mind.”
Her fork rammed into her lasagna at a ninety-degree angle, and shit got real so fast that my lasting-erection problem was taken care of. Gone. Split. Shriveled right up next to my balls.
The plate had cracked, and she seemed dazed for a second, like she couldn’t believe what she’d just done.
“I’m sorry. I—oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
She stood, moving a hand to lift the plate, and it was one of those moments when you saw what was about to happen but were so stunned that the right words failed to come out at the right stretch to intercept the foreseen catastrophe.
Wait. No. Stop.
Any of those would have sufficed, but they were all a jumbled mess in my head when she lifted the plate. The half she didn’t have a hold of broke free and fell back onto the island. It clattered and knocked her wine glass over. The wine in the glass spilled the same time it rolled off the edge, falling and shattering onto the wooden floor.
I closed my eyes in a silent prayer as I begged, “Please don’t move.”
She moved, tiptoeing across the floor.
