Food Fight - Final

by Ohhh, Heather

  “Not yet,” he scratched out, his voice pure agony. “I didn’t want to get here this quick. So many more things I was planning to do to you first.”

  I could see it was torture for his mind to stay focused on giving when all his body wanted to do was take. I knew he was trying to prolong our lovemaking, trying to make it good for me, but I was already too far gone. We both looked down to the point at which we were joined, breathing heavily, the both of us trembling with frantic want and desperate need. His resolve wasn’t as strong as he liked to think it was, and I got a sadistic thrill from watching as he fell apart.

  I knew I was pushing it when I whispered, “Please, Jesse.”

  His entire body trembled at my request as a tense muscle twitched in his jaw. I wiggled ever so slightly, taking him in just a bit more, causing Jesse to grit his teeth and fist a hand against the pillow.

  “Stef, I’m dying, here.”

  I swiped a hand across his jaw and said, “No reason to wait, Jesse.”

  The inner turmoil played out on his face as his bottom lip quivered, his body tensed in excruciating restraint. Our hearts were beating like mad against one another as the conflict played out in the air between us. We lay like that for an eternity, his cock poised at my entrance, his body coiled, a breath hissing between his teeth... and when he couldn’t take it another minute, he pulled out.

  I audibly whimpered, moaning from the loss until I realized he was simply reaching inside his nightstand drawer. He quickly rolled on a condom, positioned himself on top of me again, and pushed himself inside. I gasped—a sharp intake of breath that rocked my lungs—from the steel heat sliding inside of me; it was already too much.

  He growled against my lips, and I could feel the rumble through my own chest as he pressed his skin to mine. It was so hot to feel so wanted, to know that I was driving this poor guy mad. The muscles of his arms flexed as he caged me with his body, the fruity taste of him invading my senses.

  And then he started to move.

  Slowly. So slowly I thought I was going to fall apart. He rolled his hips against me, plunging in deep and deliberately, the head of his cock grazing against every ridge along the lining of my sensitive walls. I angled my pelvis to heighten the sensation, and Jesse took the cue, grinding the base of his cock against my clit on every thrust in that same, unhurried rhythm.

  The head of his shaft thumped against my G-spot relentlessly as his pubic bone provided the most delicious clitoral stimulation, causing every muscle and nerve ending south of the equator to convulse, my entire body pulsating.

  Damn. Who knew slow-fucking could be so hot?

  Jesse’s brow was sweaty, his face a mask of torment. I could see the anguish there, his fierce determination to do this right, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his predicament.

  The thing was, one of the main reasons I fell for this guy was the hot sex. I loved that he was a cad. I loved that he fucked like a beast. I loved everything about him. It was sweet that he wanted to make love tonight, but the thing was, he made love to me with everything he said and did. He made love to me with his mouth and his eyes and his beautiful, rocking dick.

  Time to let the poor guy off the hook. “You’re allowed to fuck me, you know.”

  The façade cracked.

  His eyes darkened with lust as his lip curled into a sneer. The change from Jekyll to Hyde was instantaneous, as if my words had unleashed a monster. Yeay!

  He growled as he threw my leg over his shoulder and immediately screwed himself in even deeper, stretching my hole to its limits as my body fought to accept his girth. I thought I was going to pass out as he started in with his powerful thrusting, fucking me the way Jesse was meant to fuck. His arms shook as they braced on the bed, already close to losing his control, but still, he kept pounding away at my aching cunt over and over and over again. His head dropped as he cursed, causing beads of sweat to trickle from his hair and drip onto my chest. It was fascinating to watch him fall apart.

  His tormented, gravelly voice asked, “You like when I fuck you hard, Sugar?”

  Nice to see you again, Jesse Miller. “Yes.”

  “You like it deep?”

  I nodded my head, barely able to find my voice. “Yes.”

  “I’m gonna come so fucking hard. I’m gonna come on your tits.”

  My entire body started pulsating again, causing my hands to reach behind me and grab hold of the headboard—not only did I need to brace myself for the impending orgasm tornado, but Jesse liked to overpower me while we fucked—as an involuntary groan escaped from his lips. Primal, animal noises filled the room as he slammed himself inside of me again and again and again, our bodies wet with sweat, tears spilling from my eyes.

  The emotional upheaval was overwhelming. I cried out as I came, pulling his ass tighter to me, pulling him in deeper, and Jesse rode the convulsions toward his own climax, fucking me harder and faster, knotting my damp hair in his fists until a guttural boom exploded from his chest as he came, screwing himself into me deep with every pulse of his throbbing dick.

  Every muscle in my body was liquefied as he slumped on the bed next to me, the both of us breathing hard, trying to put our world back together.

  I looked over at Jesse working the condom off his dick and asked, “What happened to coming on my tits?”

  He chuckled, still trying to catch his breath. “Well, I’m still hard. Wanna give me a second chance at the money shot?” he offered playfully before staring down at himself in disbelief. “Jesus. I seriously could go again right now.”

  “Your dick might be raring to go, but I bet the rest of your body would disagree.”

  He aimed a deadly smirk in my direction as he teased, “Sugar, I’ve learned that when it comes to you, nothing is impossible.”

  I stirred and squinted an eye at the sun peeking through the curtains. I was barely awake, but I could register the smell of fuck still permeating the room. I opened my eyes to find Jesse, already standing at my bedside, dressed in a pair of boxer briefs and offering a cup of coffee.

  “Mornin’, Sugar Tits.” I gave a stretch before sitting up against the pillows as Jesse asked, “How ‘bout some breakfast? You want an omelet?”

  Mmm yum. “I may just take you up on that. Do you have stuff to make a Denver? You know—peppers, onions, ham?”

  He slid back into bed, conspicuously working a hand under the sheets. “I’m more in the mood for a Greek. You know—feta, spinach, and then I fuck you in the ass.”

  His comment sent the both of us into a laughing fit. I was legit holding my sides as tears streamed down my face. Jesse pulled me in close and chuckled against my hair.

  I caught my breath and snuggled into his arms, inhaling the sleepy warmth of his skin before saying, “Speaking of food and fucking, you know we’ve still got one helluva mess in that foyer that needs cleaning, right?”

  “Shit, you’re right,” he conceded, swiping a hand over his face. “Tell you what. How about you cook and I’ll clean?”

  The truth was, I would’ve much rather stayed in bed and violated him repeatedly.

  But alas, a woman cannot live on penis alone.

  I took a cleansing breath and resolved to start my day.

  Our day.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  IT’S BEEN TWO WEEKS since that magical night at Jesse’s house.

  Since then, we’ve been inseparable. There’s something about the newness of a relationship that turns people into shmoopy dorks. It’s like we can’t get enough of one another, and yeah, sorry for being all googly-eyed and sappy about it; I know you must find it sickening, but there it is. The fact of the matter is I’m happy and he’s happy and goddammit I think we’ve earned that.

  Turns out, I’m good at being in a relationship, at least when it comes to Jesse.

  He’s not so bad at it himself.

  Aside from being a totally hot piece of ass, it turns out that he’s also a really great guy. The dude listens when I sp
eak, and he’s always got some thoughtful advice at the ready. Especially when it comes to work matters. Who knew that a gorgeous body like that could be topped by a fantastic head for business?

  I have an interview later this afternoon with a new office manager, and I’m pretty excited about it. I really think she could be The One. My girls have been kicking in with the paperwork the past couple of weeks, freeing me up to do more baking, and Smoochycakes has been thriving ever since. I guess word travels fast in a small town, and once people found out that I was back in the kitchen, business started booming. Things will only improve once I have someone in the office full time.

  All the extra income has allowed me to get creative, and I’ve recently decided to expand our line of Outrageous Cakes. Once I finally have the right manager in place, I’ll have the time to officially transform myself into a baked goods sculptress.

  Jesse’s store has always done well, but he’s been stepping up his game recently, too. He managed to finagle all our neighboring business owners into participating in a weekend-long party to celebrate the fifth anniversary of The Rimmer Strip Mall.

  So, we spent the bulk of yesterday morning blowing up balloons and hanging banners in our windows, readying for the festivities that will kick off in just a few hours later today.

  Then we spent most of last night fucking each other’s brains out.

  Some nights we stay at my place, some nights we stay at his, but we always drive into work together, which is a nice way to start my day. I warm up the ovens, he makes the coffee, and then we always find a way to share a few private moments before we’re forced to get on with our work day.

  Even still, we manage to find the opportunity to grab a few stolen kisses during working hours, indulge in the occasional quickie in one of our stockrooms. I could pretend to be grossed out by such blatant displays of affection but the truth is, I’ve been loving every minute of it.

  I had some last-minute stuff to take care of over at Smoochycakes this morning, so it wasn’t until close to six when I was able to meet up with Jesse over at The Market. He was wheeling a metal dolly loaded with crates toward the front of the store, so I bypassed announcing my presence in order to sneak a look at him.

  So now, here I am, standing in the doorway like a stalker as I check out his delectable bod. He’s wearing his typical kelly-green Market tee and his standard pair of faded jeans. Nothing out of the ordinary, but still, my God... yum.

  Without even turning around, he says, “Just got a new shipment of cucumbers, Sugar.”

  Busted. “Thanks,” I laugh out, emerging from my stakeout location and walking toward him,

  “but I think I’m more into carrots these days.”

  Jesse lets out with a pained groan. “Oh yeah?” he asks, smirking just the slightest bit. “Well maybe you’ll find time to give me a little demonstration later...”

  He steps away from his busywork to slip his hands around my waist. It’s tough to break away, but I only give him a quick peck on his delicious lips before announcing, “I have something to show you first.”

  Jesse waggles his eyebrows before I lead him through the back door to my kitchen. There on the prep table is the project I’ve been working on since yesterday afternoon. It’s a cake designed as a 3D replica of the fountain out front. It’s sitting on a large rectangular base of Gramma Sponge Cake that’s been covered in wisps of green frosting. Embedded in the “grass” are dozens of little square cookies, miniature replicas of all the signs from the businesses here in our strip mall.

  “Wow, Stef!”

  “You like?”

  “It’s so cool!” Jesse dips his head down to check everything out in greater detail. “Awww and look, you put our cookies next to each other.”

  His comment is a softball, but I bypass the dirty joke about the proximity of our “cookies.”

  He raises an eyebrow to snark, “That banana is placed obscenely close to that donut, however.”

  “That was the idea. We’re neighbors, get it?”

  “Shit. Is it weird that I’ve got a semi right now?” he asks, adjusting himself in his jeans.

  I roll my eyes and shoot back, “What else is new.”

  He chuckles as he points to the pile of fondant fruits and veggies. “It’s all that phallic produce. It’s giving me ideas.” I snicker as he steps closer and adds, “Wanna help me out with my eggplant?”

  I give a quick glance at the clock, realizing it’s almost time to open shop. “We’ve only got five minutes, Jesse.”

  “Sugar, if you suck me off properly, I won’t need more than two.”

  I offer him a mischievous smile as my eyes tighten into a sham dirty look. Lord help me, I’m in love with this kinky bastard.

  I let out with a sigh, grab hold of the bulge in his jeans, and slither, “Drop ‘em, Pussy Killer.”

  THE END

  T. Torrid is a pop-culture junkie, a movie aficionado, and a lover of all things 80’s.

  A lifelong Jersey girl, she currently lives there with her husband and two sons.

  She also writes romance under the name T. Torrest!

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  DOWN THE SHORE!

  RIMMER, PENNSYLVANIA...CHUCKLING TO MYSELF, I toss the map onto the coffee table, which is still littered with last night’s Chinese take-out boxes. As I finger my hands through my hair, I’m actually considering it.

  Why the fuck not?

  I, Peter Johnson, am about to be a free man. I haven’t breathed this easily in three long years. Not since the day I got busted by my girl Roxy’s older brother, balls deep in Double-D Darcy. That little piece cost me my college scholarship and turned my once stellar reputation to shit. That’s the bitch with dating the daughter of a man with the power of Roy Guidry, who owns our little town of Pecan Grove, Louisiana. One misstep, or mis-fuck, as it was in my case, and everything turns to shit. Old Roy had warned me not to make his princess cry. I should have known a man like that meant business. One slip of the dick and life as I knew it was over.

  I know you’re probably thinking I got what I deserved, and maybe you’re right. Fucking around on Roxy was a shitty thing to do, I’ll admit. In my defense, I was only nineteen, and I saw no way out. Roxy and I started dating when we were just fifteen-years-old. She was my first girlfriend—my only girlfriend. From the start, her family embraced our relationship, molding me to be their future son-in-law. We were fucking kids for Christ’s sake. There were a few times I even suggested to Roxy that we take a break and date other people, but she was having none of that. She wanted me. Problem was...I no longer wanted her. But princess Roxy was accustomed to getting whatever her little heart desired and had no problem hinting at all of the many ways her daddy could ruin me. I knew she wasn’t making idle threats, so I stayed, and she turned the other cheek when she heard rumors of the other girls. However, once Daddy found out, all bets were off.

  I’ve spent the last few years keeping a low profile, cutting and packing meat at my parents’ butcher shop. Well, today they presented me with an offer I can’t refuse: the chance to open another shop in the city and state of my choosing. A chance to get me out of and away from this mess. A chance to start over.

  My parents are fucking saints.

  “What’s it gonna be, Johnson?” my roommate and best friend of twenty years calls out as he enters through the back door, tossing his keys onto the counter. “Where’re we gonna lay our dicks?”

  Looking over my shoulder, I’m met with a huge grin. His bright white teeth are a stark contrast to his dark brown skin. “You sure ’bout this, man?”

  Jerome looks at me like I’ve sprouted anot
her head. As if the two I have haven’t gotten me in enough trouble already. “Of course I am. We’re talkin’ the adventure of a lifetime here, Petey-boy.” He thumps me on the shoulder as he steps around the back of the couch to sit in the armchair. Leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head, Jerome kicks his size thirteens up onto the coffee table, knocking trash to the floor. “Besides”—he shrugs—“I’ve done cycled through all the pussy in these parts.”

  He isn’t lying, and being one of only a handful of black men in this racist ass town, he’s had to answer to a lot of daddies. I’m not really all that surprised he’s so anxious to get the fuck outta Dodge.

  Fresh meat does sound nice. I shake my head, laughing to myself. “Well then, Rimmer, Pennsylvania, it is,” I say, watching a shit-eating grin creep across his face.

  Jerome sticks out his tongue, lapping at the air. “Bring on the booty.”

  “HEY, PETE, WHERE DO you want me to put this salami?” Jerome lifts a large roll of sausage from a crate, holds it in front of his crotch, and begins to stroke seductively. He caresses the meat, jerking his hips forward as he screws up his features into an alarmingly convincing “O” face.

  “Bend over and I’ll show ya,” I quip just as the bell rings out, signaling the opening of the door.

  “Ahem.” The sound of a feminine throat clearing draws my eyes to the glass doors at the front of my new shop. A pretty little thing with reddish blond hair resting on perky tits levels me with glistening toffee brown eyes. Her top teeth are biting into her bottom lip, staving off a look that can only be described as embarrassment.

  Saliva begins to fill my mouth as my dick jumps to attention. After gawking at the poor girl long enough to make us both uncomfortable, I find my voice, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “We’re, uh...closed.” Stupid.