Whipped

by Snow, Jenika

  “Taste it. See if we added enough sugar.” His voice was low, almost sexual in nature.

  I felt my eyes widen slightly. “Just right off your finger?” That sounded a little breathier than I anticipated.

  He grinned and shrugged. “Why not?”

  I licked my lips and glanced into his eyes then back down to his finger.

  “Go on, Zara.” His voice was a husky drawl I felt in every single part of my body.

  And then I found myself leaning in, parting my lips, and taking the digit into my mouth. Instantly, sweetness ran along my tongue as I sucked on his finger, my focus trained right on his face. His mouth opened ever so slightly, his pupils dilating.

  I could see his chest rising and falling a little bit faster, a little bit harder. I felt my heart race, and as I pulled my mouth away from his finger, the sweet taste of that cream still on my tongue, I wanted desperately for Max to have a taste of me as well.

  “Max?” I said his name softly, but even I didn’t miss the desire in my voice.

  He took a step closer until I felt his body heat slam into me. I felt his warm breath tease my lips.

  “Zara.” He all but groaned my name. “Tell me to stop and I will.” His focus was on my mouth, and I felt my lips tingle from that alone.

  In this moment, I could tell him to stop, knew he would. But there was no way I would go there.

  I wanted this. I wanted Max.

  Chapter Six

  Max

  She slowly shook her head, and I groaned roughly. She wasn’t going to stop this. She was going to let me go further, and this animal magnetism in me was pulled toward her. It demanded I taste her, make her mine.

  This wasn’t about sex—not today at least. I wasn’t going to fuck her yet. But I would taste her. I would see if she was as soft and silky against my tongue as I imagined she’d be.

  I slid my hands down her arms, moved the tips of my fingers along her palms, and then curled them around the soft flesh of her hips. She made a soft, sweet sound, her mouth slightly open as she panted. And then I lifted her onto the island, wedged my body between her thighs, and kept my focus trained right on her mouth.

  I couldn’t tear my gaze from those luscious, plump, and pink lips of hers. I could imagine some pretty fucking dirty things she could do with that mouth, but right now, this was about her.

  “Let me taste you.” I moved my mouth to her ear and ran my tongue along the shell, feeling her shake against me.

  She had her hands on my shoulders, her nails breaking my skin. She smelled good, a combination of the perfume she wore, her natural scent, and the ingredients we’d been using to bake.

  I closed my eyes and groaned, hearing her little gasp of pleasure. I was hard, so fucking stiff it felt like I was trying to smuggle a lead pipe in my pants.

  “I’ve never had a man put his mouth on me down there before.”

  I dropped to my knees and placed my hands on her knees, spreading her even wider for me. I pushed her dress up more and stared between her legs. Fuck, she smelled good. “Lean back farther for me, Zara baby.” When she was lying on the table, I gripped her waist and pulled her down farther so her ass was nearly hanging off of it. I don’t know how long I stared at her pink, perfect pussy, but I was mesmerized by it.

  “Want my mouth on you, Zara?” Fuck, was that my voice, all husky and deep?

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  I closed my eyes and breathed out slowly, trying to get my control together.

  And then I placed my mouth on her cunt, dragging my tongue through her slick, soft folds, lapping up her arousal. “You taste so fucking good. Sweet and addicting.” I gripped her ass and lifted her more so I could devour her, just get lost in the feeling and flavor of her.

  My dick throbbed, my shaft demanding to get out, as if the fucker had a mind of its own.

  She was panting, her desire sweetening the air. I went back to licking and sucking at her, devouring that pink center of hers. God, I loved how she exhaled, as if this was too much for her. Then I thought of something that would make this experience a lot more memorable. I pulled back and looked at her face.

  She was gorgeous. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted, and her breathing labored. She was exactly where I wanted her to be.

  “Will you let me try something, Zara? Do you trust me to make you feel good?”

  She nodded.

  That’s my girl.

  I rose up and reached over to where the bowl of whipped cream was, brought it closer to us, and dipped two fingers into it, collecting a dollop. I swore her eyes got a little bit wider, a little bit bigger as she watched me hold up those fingers, cream covering them.

  And then I smoothed that whipped cream on her slit, staring at her face as she closed her eyes and leaned fully back once more.

  I licked off the rest of the cream on my fingers, placed my hands on her inner thighs, and kept her spread as I stared at the sweet spot.

  I leaned in and ran my tongue up her cleft, licking off the sweetness that covered her pussy... that spilled from her cunt. God, she was delicious, and it had nothing to do with what I’d spread along the most intimate part of her.

  “I want you to come for me as I lick you clean, as I suck the nectar that spills from you. And it’s all because of me, baby girl. It’s all because of me.” I hum and all but motorboat her silky pussy. “Say my name, Zara. Cry it out as you get off.”

  She reached out and grabbed chunks of my hair, bracing her feet on the island, really spreading out her pussy for me.

  I hummed in approval. “That’s it.” I sucked her clit into my mouth, loving that she gyrated her hips against my face. Fuck, she drove me wild.

  I reached down with my free hand and started rubbing myself through my jeans, the friction enough to have my balls drawing up tight. I could’ve come from this alone, like I was some fucking teenager who couldn’t control his arousal.

  I pulled back, her little clit popping free of my mouth and making this audible sound that I swore echoed around the room. And the monstrous fucker behind my zipper jerked in approval.

  I probed her pussy hole with my tongue, gently dipping it in—not fully, just teasing. I ran the muscle back up her cleft and went to work sucking on the engorged little nub.

  “Yes,” she whispered, and I renewed my efforts.

  I wanted her fucking screaming as she came.

  I blindly reached up and got more whipped cream, refusing to break away from her pussy. The metal bowl clanked against the granite countertop. I only pulled away long enough to cover her with more of the cream.

  I didn’t need to make her any sweeter, but I knew she liked this, knew the dual sensations of the chilled cream and my warm tongue did all kinds of erotic things to her. The sounds of her crying out for more were evidence of that.

  “Come for me, Zara. Give me the good stuff, baby.”

  “Max,” she moaned, and I grinned against her wet flesh, loving how she said my name in the throes of passion.

  “Just give in, Zara. Come on. Give it to me.”

  I felt her body tighten, knew she was obeying so damn well and would give me exactly what I wanted. She pulled at my hair once more, the sting of it fueling my need, my arousal.

  “You about to give me what I want, sweet girl?”

  “Yes,” she cried out and pulled at my hair harder. I hissed then immediately moaned. “Yes, Max.”

  And when I ran a finger around her pussy opening at the same time I sucked hard on her clit, she came for me.

  I hummed, groaned—fuck—made every damn erotic noise possible at the very knowledge I’d made Zara let loose. I was the first man to taste her.

  I’d be the only one from this point on.

  Chapter Seven

  Zara

  Several days later

  I should’ve been working, not sitting behind my desk, chewing on the end of a pencil, and thinking about what happened just a couple days ago. We’d already seen each other again since t
hat night, but we’d kept it pretty non-sexual. I liked the build-up, if I was being honest. I liked the fact that Max controlled himself around me, as if he liked prolonging this as much as I did. But I was also nervous. I had no sexual experience, so this was all new territory for me.

  Going slow was perfect, but on the heels of that... I was also crazy aroused for him. And because of that, my thoughts were filthy.

  All I could picture was Max between my thighs, spreading whipped cream along my pussy, and then licking it off. I felt a shiver move through my body, and I cleared my throat and straightened, glancing toward my office doorway and making sure nobody in the cubicles could see me.

  But God, I could still practically feel his tongue on me, could feel the orgasm that had crashed through my entire body as he sucked on my clit.

  That had been the first orgasm I’d received from a man, and it sure as hell had knocked all those orgasms I’d given myself down several notches.

  Even now, I tingled between my thighs, and all I could think about was seeing Max again. But this wasn’t just about sexual things. I had feelings for him, even before we really spoke, even before that first date.

  I never thought I’d believe in love at first sight, and I didn’t know if that’s what this was. What I knew was that I thought about him constantly, wanted to spend time with him always.

  I wanted to cook with him, have him teach me how to bake. I wanted to do all that stuff and more, because I’d fallen for him from the first moment I saw him, and I had a feeling Max felt the same way for me.

  The way he touched me, looked at me, led me to believe these feelings weren’t one-sided, weren’t just sexual.

  I found myself logging into my computer, bringing up an Internet search, and typing in Max’s name. Articles immediately popped up, dating back as far as five years, when he first opened his bakery.

  I looked at the pictures from the grand opening, reading up on anything and everything I could about him. I didn’t know why I hadn’t looked him up sooner. Maybe I’d been trying to tell myself there would never be anything between us, but that obviously wasn’t the case.

  I looked at one of the most recent pictures of him. Someone had taken a candid photo of him as he stood in the back of his bakery, flour on his dark apron, his dirty blond hair slightly messy. He looked focused and intent as he used a rolling pin on the dough in front of him.

  I stared at his hands, big and strong, masculine. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up his forearms, and even though it was just a picture, I felt my entire body tingling.

  It was like a spell was cast over me. Or maybe it wasn’t anything that fantastical. Maybe this was what falling in love felt like.

  Could it actually be that, though? After a couple months of longing from afar, and one official date?

  Could I already be head-over-heels for Max?

  * * *

  Max

  I rolled out the raw pastry, watching as it stretched, smoothed out. I reached over and grabbed some flour, sprinkling it over top, wiping my hand along the dough, and rubbing it in.

  And the whole time, I only thought about one thing, one person.

  Then again, this wasn’t unusual. I’d been obsessed with Zara since the moment I saw her, but now that I’d tasted her—literally—she was imprinted in my brain. The flavor of her was still on my tongue.

  I knew I would never be able to get rid of it. I knew I’d never taste anything sweeter.

  “You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Charlie said, and I glanced up at him.

  “I am.” I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.

  “Care to share?”

  Charlie had one earbud in, the other hanging around his neck. I could hear the rock music coming from the unused bud lying against his chest. He wore a chef-style hat, his white apron splattered with raspberry purée. It was a homemade recipe I’d come up with last year, one that was a perfect topping for my fruit tarts.

  I looked at him, seeing the expectant expression on his face, knowing he was curious. Charlie had been working for me almost as long as the bakery had been in business and was my right hand in everything to run this bakery smoothly.

  I honestly didn’t know what I’d do without him, but that didn’t mean I wanted to share information about Zara. I was even possessive of that.

  “Man, this must be serious for you to clam up on me.”

  I chuckled softly and shook my head. “Yeah, it’s pretty serious.” I realized I’d said that out loud. I felt Charlie’s stare on me and looked at him.

  “You met someone,” he said without missing a beat.

  The thought of keeping everything and anything that had to do with Zara to myself played hard on me, but on the flip side, I wanted to brag and boast, to yell it from the rooftops that I finally had her.

  “I did,” I finally said, my grin wide. “And she’s fucking fantastic.” I focused on the pastry again, rolling it out, making it perfect. I didn’t want to seem like some overexcited asshole about all this, but shit, that’s how I felt.

  “It’s the girl who comes in a couple of days a week, right?” I looked up at Charlie, knowing surprise was on my face. “The one who sits by herself at the corner table and reads?”

  My silence was answer enough, because he smiled.

  “Man, I swear I’ve been watching you two beating around the bush this whole time.” He was outright laughing now.

  I was still silent, and now that I thought about it, I realized I probably hadn’t hidden my fascination with Zara. I constantly stared at her when she was in the bakery.

  “I was wondering how long it would take for you to finally go after her.” Charlie started bopping his head to the music as he switched over the raspberry preserves into the container that would go in the refrigerator.

  I thought about what he said, how it had taken me forever to say anything to Zara. But I’d finally grown some balls and done just that. I’d finally told her she was mine. And I’d finally made that my reality.

  I wasn’t going back now. The only thing to be done was to move forward and fully claim Zara.

  Chapter Eight

  Zara

  Event night

  I sat down and exhaled roughly, the heels I’d stupidly decided to wear killing my feet. And then there was my dress, the zipper digging at my side. I was a wreck tonight, it seemed.

  The flurry of activity was all around me and enough to make anyone’s head spin. But here we were, the charity banquet finally official, people dressed to the nines and schmoozing with the higher-ups. Donations were being talked about, the liquor flowed, and people were filling up on the gourmet food.

  So far, there hadn’t been any issues, and that in itself made me feel successful.

  After greeting some of the guests, I headed toward the back to make sure everything was running smoothly behind the scenes. As soon I pushed the door open, everything in me stilled.

  Max stood off to the side with a younger man, a paper between them as they talked softly. It was as if he sensed me, because I’d only been standing there a moment before Max lifted his head and our gazes clashed.

  I swallowed, my feelings for him instantly rising up like a storm raging inside me. The man beside him glanced up as well, presumably because Max had stopped speaking. I didn’t miss how he glanced between Max and me, and then his eyebrows lifted curiously before he cleared his throat and excused himself.

  There was still a flurry of activity, caterers and wait staff bustling around us. The sound of dishes clanging together and silverware being set on china rang all around.

  All I wanted to do was go into his arms, but I was frozen to the spot, reminding myself that I was working and couldn’t give in to my needs or wants, my basic urges.

  Max came up to me and stopped a few feet from where I stood, a small smile spreading across his face.

  “Zara.” He said my name softly in that deliciously deep voice of his.

  “I didn’t mean to in
terrupt you and—”

  “You weren’t interrupting anything. Never. That was just Charlie. He’s like my right hand at the bakery.”

  I felt a flush steal over my body and knew there was no doubt I was beet red. “Mr. Winchester.” I said his name formally and saw the corner of his mouth twitch as he suppressed a smile.

  I straightened and looked around, figuring people were staring at us, that they knew about us. But it was clear that to them we were invisible.

  “Miss Baxter.” He said my name formally as well, and now it was my turn to try to not smile. “Can I speak with you in private, please?” There was a touch of suggestion in his voice.

  I should’ve said no, because I knew being alone with him was probably dangerous in more ways than one. But instead, I slowly nodded and licked my lips.

  I followed him out of the kitchen and down the small, deserted hallway. I could still hear activity from the caterers and the event, but everything else started to fade away the longer I was alone with Max.

  With my back to the wall and Max just a foot from me, all I could see, smell, and feel was him. I tingled in all the right places, and the very thought of someone seeing us like this made me anxious, but also so very aroused.

  “I’ve been thinking about you constantly.” He dipped his gaze to my lips, and I involuntarily licked them again. “You’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up, and the last thing I think about when I go to bed.” Max slowly lifted his eyes from my mouth to my eyes, his expression intense. “You’re the only thing I think about. I can’t get you out of my head, Zara.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Is that a bad thing?” I whispered.

  He slowly shook his head. “Hell, no.” He lifted his hand and placed it on the wall beside my head. “Do you think about me, baby?”

  I nodded. “God, so much.” The words spilled from me before I could stop myself. I was at work and I should be professional, right?