Anthology - Threefold

by Desiree Holt

  She pulled her hand down an inch from her lips. “Damn, did I say that out loud?”

  “No worries. I know what you meant,” he said.

  She let out a sigh.

  “I would love to cook for you.” He leant down and placed a long, slow kiss on her lips. Yeah, she was definitely causing his temperature to rise.

  “Wow. Can we do that again?” she asked.

  His lips spread in a slow smile. “All night long, baby.”

  She sank against him with her arms around his shoulders. “Oh, you just stole the starch right out of my knees.”

  His hands slid from her waist over her butt. “Are you going to be able to keep up with me on the dance floor?”

  The song changed to one with a pounding tempo. “Oh yes! Let’s go,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the dance floor.

  He enjoyed watching her dancing so much he stayed on the dance floor for three fast songs. The fourth song was a slow one, which allowed him to wrap his arms around her and engage in some soul kissing. Near the end of the dance, someone bumped into his shoulder and called out, “Get a room.”

  He looked down at Mia in his arms. “Will you leave with me?”

  She nodded then glanced around the crowded bar. “I need to find Shirle to tell her I’m going.”

  “And give her my particulars,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I assume you don’t want your friend to worry about you going off with some strange man you met in the parking lot of a bar,” he said.

  She studied him for a moment. He could tell he’d surprised her. But wasn’t it usual for a woman to give a little bio to her friend about the man she was leaving with, in case something went wrong?

  “Yeah, I guess so,” she said.

  “What does she look like?” He scanned the room over the tops of most people’s shorter heads.

  “Big blonde hair, black tank top and denim miniskirt,” she said as she moved off the dance floor with Zed right behind her.

  “Is that her over there?” He pointed to a corner booth.

  “Yes! You’re handy to have around in a crowded bar,” she said.

  “I’m pretty handy in private places, too,” he said.

  A shiver ran through Mia’s private places. “I’ll be right back,” she said, darting through the crowd.

  She gave Shirle a quick description of who Zed was, a hug and a thank you for the party. Shirle wished her luck and asked for a check-in phone call sometime on Saturday.

  Then Mia rushed back to Zed’s side.

  “Ready,” she said.

  “Your place or mine?” he asked.

  “There’s no food to cook at my place.”

  “Mine, then,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her out of the bar. “What do you live on if you don’t have food at your place?”

  “I have food, but nothing that the chef of Nouvelle Cuisine can cook with. Unless you know of something unique to do with Oreos, tortilla chips and feta cheese.”

  He groaned. “Is that what you live on?”

  “No, I eat healthy most of the time from all levels of the food pyramid. But when I’m working on a piece, I lose track of time and don’t shop for food or take time to prepare meals.”

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  “I’m a sculptor, and I teach the occasional class at the Art Institute to help make ends meet when I’m in-between projects.”

  He unlocked a black Cadillac Escalade and opened the passenger door for her. She glanced at the high seat, then down at her short skirt and dangerously high heels.

  “Problem?” He grinned at her.

  “A little wardrobe challenged. I don’t normally dress like this, and I don’t know how to get into your car.”

  “Let me help, then.”

  Before she could reply, he literally swept her off her feet with one arm under her knees and the other around her waist. He lifted her onto the passenger seat and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before shutting the car door.

  Damn, he was strong. She was no light-weight, yet he hadn’t seemed to struggle a bit to lift her. Now she really wanted to get a look at the muscles on this man, both as a woman and as a sculptor.

  “Thanks for the lift,” she said when he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “I enjoyed helping,” he said. “Now let’s go make something to eat. I skipped dinner tonight, too.”

  “You don’t have to cook for me. We can pick something up.”

  “I’m a food snob. There’s not much out there I like to eat more than my own cooking.

  Besides, I already told you I like cooking, especially for someone who enjoys eating. My place isn’t far.”

  “Isn’t Nouvelle Cuisine open on Friday nights? How did you get the night off?”

  “We closed early tonight.”

  “Why?”

  He glanced sideways at her. “Something important came up.”

  “A country line dancing challenge?”

  “Among other things.”

  “How did you convince your boss to close the whole restaurant for the night? Isn’t he going to lose a lot of money being closed on a Friday night?”

  “There are things in life more important than money.”

  “Yeah, but money makes a lot of those important things possible.”

  “It helps.”

  “So, how did you convince him to close?”

  “I didn’t have to convince him. He went to the party, too.”

  “He was there? What did he look like?” Not that she’d looked around at anyone other than Zed while she’d been there.

  Zed didn’t answer her right away. Finally, he said, “He looks exactly like me.”

  “A twin brother or yourself?”

  “Myself.”

  “You’re the owner and the head chef?”

  “That’s me.”

  He left her speechless. She hadn’t expected to meet the owner of one of the top-rated restaurants in the Chicagoland area tonight. And she was going home with him. And he was going to cook for her. And he was gorgeous. Her luck really was turning around.

  Fantasies of watching his muscles bunch and stretch while he cooked naked for her occupied her mind as he drove. They’d only travelled a few miles on the local highway before he pulled into an older, established neighbourhood.

  “We’re home,” he said as he turned into the driveway of a 1960s ranch house.

  “This is your house?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’ve completely renovated the inside. It used to be a three-bedroom, but now it’s two. The smallest one was sacrificed to enlarge the master suite.” He pulled into the garage and turned off the SUV. “Wait in your seat. I’ll come get you out. I don’t want you to hurt yourself getting down.”

  After setting her on her feet, he led her through the garage door into a thoroughly modern kitchen equipped with black granite countertops, dark cherry cabinets and stainless steel appliances.

  “Beautiful,” she said, running her hand over the cool, smooth surface of the black granite.

  “I agree,” he said, staring at her. He boxed her in with his hands on either side of her on the counter. “I’m not going to be able to give cooking my full attention until I get a better taste of you.”

  She moved her hands up his silky shirt and slipped the top button through the buttonhole. “I’m all for tasting.” She undid the rest of his buttons then dragged the shirt from his shoulders and off his arms, dropping it on the counter next to her.

  He bent his head and trailed steamy kisses up the side of her neck. She shivered as delicious warmth spread through her belly. He skimmed his palms up her arms. With his thumbs, he brushed her nipples through her dress as he drew past them. She pressed herself against his naked chest, seeking more contact. His skin was hot and satiny, and she wanted to feel it against her naked body.

  She leant back and reached for the hem of her dress. He watched her as she lifted the material up her
thighs, revealing her black lace thong. He drew in a sharp breath.

  She continued lifting her dress, revealing her plush belly.

  “Oh, God, you’re so sexy,” he groaned.

  The heat in his eyes emboldened her to act out her fantasies, just as she had at the bar when she’d thrown aside her cautious self and initiated their first kiss. She smiled at the power she felt as she lifted her dress above her naked breasts and over her head.

  Zed scooped her off her feet and carried her to a brown leather couch in the adjacent living room. The leather felt cool against her skin when he lay her down. When he fell to his knees before her and buried his face in her belly with his arms around her waist, she warmed quickly from his touch.

  “You are divine, woman. I need to taste all of you.” His words whispered against her, sent shivers skirting along her skin.

  She stroked his smooth head. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather have right now,” she said.

  He kissed his way down her belly to the top of her lace panties. He paused and looked up at her. “May I?” he asked.

  “Oh, God, yes.”

  He slipped his fingers under the side strings of the thong and slowly removed it. She lifted her hips to ease the way. He set the thong on the floor near the sofa and turned back to gaze at her.

  But she was getting impatient. Every move he made seemed so slow. She needed his hands on her now. Her body ached to be touched. She wiggled on the couch and let out a soft whimper.

  The corner of his mouth twitched before he lowered his head and kissed her intimately. His tongue stroked her slit with slow, hot licks. She lifted her hips, hoping for deeper penetration.

  He slipped a finger into her throbbing hole and massaged the inner walls with unhurried caresses. He was moving so damn slow she wanted to scream for more speed, but at the same time she was more aware of the minute changes in her body as he built her up to a climax.

  As she drew closer to her release, her nipples tightened into hard buds on her chest, and her breath shortened into pants. The muscles in her legs trembled, and her womb tightened.

  He sucked her clit into his mouth, and her pussy rippled with contractions around his fingers.

  “Ohhh,” she moaned as her orgasm ripped through her. She clutched at the leather cushions, and her body shook as she rode the sensation.

  When the waves subsided, she gulped in a breath and lay limp on the couch.

  Eventually, she became aware of her surroundings and conscious of Zed removing her shoes.

  She giggled softly to herself as she realised she’d lain naked on his couch and had an orgasm with her fuck-me heels still on. They really did work.

  “Better?” he asked, rubbing his thumbs over her insteps.

  “Mm, hmm,” she murmured, her eyes closed and her body languid as she lay sprawled on the couch. Then her stomach rumbled, and her cheeks grew warm.

  He chuckled. “Sounds like there’s something else I can do for you.”

  She opened her eyes. “I’m a little hungry,” she admitted.

  “I can’t let you go hungry in the home of the head chef of Nouvelle Cuisine.” He dragged a brown and cream striped afghan from the back of the couch and pulled it over her shoulders as she sat up. “Sit tight and I’ll whip up a feast fit for a queen.” He got to his feet from where he knelt on the floor.

  “How can I help?” she asked, looking up at him.

  He laughed and shook his head. “You’ve already told me you hate cooking, but you can come keep me company if you want to help.” He held his hand out to help her rise from the couch and walked with her into the kitchen.

  She perched on a stool at the counter, watching as he went to the refrigerator and pulled out a variety of vegetables, cheese and eggs. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything as sexy as a bare chested man cooking her dinner in a state-of-the-art kitchen.

  “Do you have any food allergies or avoidances?” he asked as he set the ingredients on the counter in front of her.

  “Nope, I like everything,” she said.

  He smiled. “Music to a chef’s ears,” he said.

  His hands moved with strength and surety as he diced onions, red pepper, garlic and fresh parsley. The knife seemed to be an extension of his body. She admired his confidence with the tools of his trade. He didn’t seem to be at all self-conscious with her watching.

  “Can I ask what’s on the menu?” she said.

  He glanced up at her, his lips spreading in a slow smile. “Well, first I had you as an appetiser.”

  She squirmed on the stool at the memory and returned his smile. “And now?”

  “Now, I’m making red pepper frittata for our first course.”

  “How many courses are we going to have with this meal?”

  “After I have you as the main course, then I’ll make a dessert and serve coffee. Does that suit you?” he asked as he sautéed the vegetables in butter in a large skillet.

  “Oh, yes. Great food and even better—sex. If this is a dream, please don’t wake me until the end,” she said.

  He grated the cheese, deftly avoiding his fingertips unlike her whenever she attempted to use her grater at home. Then he beat eggs with milk in a large bowl, added the cheese and vegetables to the egg mixture and poured it all back into the skillet. Stirring a few times, he cooked it on the stove. Before putting the skillet under the broiler, he sprinkled grated parmesan on the top.

  “Looks tasty,” she said.

  “Nearly done,” he said, setting a plate and two forks on the counter in front of her.

  Then he reached into the refrigerator and returned with two Heinekens.

  She laughed. “You, too? You didn’t tell me at the bar we shared the same taste in beer.”

  “I figured you’d think I was giving you a line if I told you,” he said, opening the bottles and handing her one. “Here’s to the continuation of a beautiful relationship. Cheers.”

  He clinked his bottle against hers before lifting it to his lips.

  “Cheers,” she said, then took a long pull from the bottle.

  Using a pot holder, he removed the skillet from the broiler and slid the frittata on the plate in front of Mia.

  “This smells wonderful,” she said as her stomach growled again.

  He came to her side of the counter and sat on the other stool, facing her with his knees straddling hers. “Allow me,” he said, cutting off an outer piece of the frittata with the edge of his fork. He held it before her lips. “Careful, it’s very hot.”

  She felt awkward having him feed her like this. “I can feed myself.”

  He chuckled. “Nope, we’re sharing. Open up and let me feed you.”

  She unhinged her jaw and accepted the forkful of frittata. “Mmmm,” she hummed, swallowing the egg and cheese slice of heaven.

  He leant over and kissed a trail up her neck. When he got to her ear, he whispered, “I love watching a beautiful woman enjoy my food.”

  “My turn,” she said. But instead of using the other fork, she pinched off a bite of frittata and held her fingers to his lips. “Open says Mia.”

  She slipped the food into his mouth and set it on his tongue. His soft lips closed around her fingers and caressed them as she removed them slowly. Her pussy tingled in response.

  “Mmmm. You definitely add just the right flavour to this meal,” he said.

  She watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed and thought about adding a bit more definition to the throat of her Adam, who waited for her back at the studio.

  A pang of longing touched her heart at being away from him. She shoved the feeling away.

  How messed up was she to be longing after a lump of cold clay when she had a chiselled, hot male right in front of her? No wonder she’d gone so long without getting laid.

  She’d been spending too much time and energy in the studio with her work.

  Zed pressed his thumb on her forehead between her eyebrows and smoothed his way up to
her hairline. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “Nothing important,” she said.

  “Then why is there this crease in the middle of your forehead?”

  She looked into his eyes. Would he understand her obsession with her work? If this was a one-night stand, it wouldn’t matter if he understood. But she’d already started across that boundary into the territory of wanting something more than one night of casual sex with him.

  “Sorry, I was thinking about my work,” she said, testing his reaction.

  “Your sculpture?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “A male figure. His name is Adam.”

  “Are you having problems with it?”

  She took another swig from her bottle of beer. “He won’t reveal his face to me, yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve tried to be patient with him, but I’m nearly done with his body. I need to see his face so I can finish the clay and get ready for the bronze casting. I want to put him in my next show, but he won’t be done on time if he doesn’t start cooperating.”

  “You talk about him as if he were a real person,” he said.

  “I know. He’s gotten under my skin.”

  “I think I’m jealous,” he said.

  “But you and I just met tonight for a fling.”

  “Is that all you want from me?” he asked.

  She watched his eyes and got lost in the warm brown. “Am I allowed to want more?”

  she whispered.

  “Yes,” he said before bending towards her and capturing her mouth with his.

  She closed her eyes and surrendered to his sweeping tongue. Her hands glided across his carved abs, up his pecs and over his shoulders. She let the afghan slip to the floor and pressed her naked breasts against his hot skin.

  She needed to be possessed by him. She needed to feel his bare skin covering her own.

  And she needed it now.

  She stood and pushed her body into his. Under his slacks his cock twitched against her belly, and her body answered with a new flood of warm wetness between her legs.

  Standing, he broke the kiss and grabbed her hand. “The couch is nice, but I want you in my bed when I make love to you.” He led her past the living room to a hallway on the other side of the house.