Spice

by Seressia Glass

  “Yes.” Kane opened her door for her. He couldn’t resist sliding his hand down her back, the swell of her hip as he helped her into the car. Her skin was silky and smooth, sending tingles through his fingertips. Nadia Spiceland was true to her name: spicy, tasty, a delectable morsel he hoped like hell he would soon sink his teeth into. He wanted her legs wrapped around his waist, her nipples in his mouth, her cries of satisfaction in his ears.

  He made his way around the car, managing to slip inside with a decent amount of grace. Nadia was so damn hot in that dress that called attention to her luscious curves. Seeing her in the restaurant for the first time, he’d wanted to immediately grab her hand and take her home—his home, her home, the café—hell, any flat surface. He’d thought her beautiful and alluring in her jeans and tight tees. In that dress, seeing her long shapely legs, hot pink painted toes in strappy black stilettos, he’d been struck dumb, even as his body filled with a nearly crushing hunger. It took several heartbeats before he remembered that he was there to win her, to claim her for his own. So he set about playing his cards, seducing her with touches, with words, with single-minded focus.

  He’d meant it when he said that her stint in drug rehab didn’t bother him. What she was then was not what she was now. What he needed to know of Nadia had started two months ago when he’d first walked into the café and she’d immediately soothed him, then intrigued him with the knowing gleam in her eye and the sauciness of her smile.

  Then, just when he thought he’d made a most excellent and commanding impression, she’d slid the vibrator controller to him. He’d gotten so hard at that moment it hurt. Again, the animalistic urge to throw her down and rip enough clothing away to make her his had ridden him, ridden him hard. No other woman he’d been with had been so upfront in her desires, her need, her challenge to him. She’d presented him with a gift by offering him control of her pleasure, and he’d do anything and everything to be worthy of it.

  “Take your panties off.”

  His voice was a loud growl in the confines of the car. He could sense her surprise as she turned her head to look at him. “What?”

  “Take your panties off.”

  She shifted on the seat. “I’m really wet, Kane,” she said simply, causing him to groan. “I don’t want to ruin your leather.”

  “You won’t,” he promised, not that he cared if she did. He wanted her bare. It would be one less thing he had to worry about when they reached her place. Besides, he felt a need to reassert control. He’d felt out of it from the moment she’d handed him that remote.

  “Take your panties off, sweet Nadia. I want to know how spicy you are.”

  Silence. Then she lifted her hips, reaching beneath her skirt. He forgot to breathe as she executed a set of perfect shimmies that fired his blood even more. He could almost sense her challenging grin as she draped the tiny scrap of black lace over the gearshift. “Well?”

  Kane inhaled deeply. The scent of her arousal hit him deep in the hindbrain. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. How the fuck long did a red light last in this damn town? Nadia lived two blocks away, but it might as well have been two hundred miles, it was taking so long to get there. “Thank you,” he said, keeping his voice level, even amused, with an effort. “Now, spread your knees. Keep your skirt up.”

  She did, then had the audacity to ease the seat back so that she could put her feet up on the dash. “Would you like for me to touch myself too?”

  He wasn’t going to survive the night. “Don’t be cheeky,” he admonished her. “Your orgasms belong to me, remember?”

  “The controller—”

  “Is unnecessary at this point,” he interrupted. “I don’t want to give the impression that I need props to give you what you want.”

  Another fucking light, one more block. Damn downtown Crimson Bay at night. “Tonight is about introducing our bodies to each other. Seeing how we fit. If we suit, we can start the reenactments from the book tomorrow. Is that acceptable?”

  “Yes.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “I don’t think I have the patience or the focus for the book tonight.”

  “Good.” They pulled into the parking deck that serviced the mixed-use development that housed Nadia’s café and condo. She gave him the code, then directed him to her guest parking space. Biting back his impatience, he walked around to hand her out of the car, his gaze fastened to her legs as she swung out and to her feet. When she reached for her thong, he said, “Leave it. I want physical proof that tonight actually happened.”

  Her eyes glittered as they walked to the elevator. “It does seem surreal, doesn’t it? I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin if I have to wait much longer for you to kiss me again.” She pushed the elevator button.

  The doors immediately opened and he breathed a silent prayer of thanks. “You don’t have to wait.” He cupped her cheeks as they all but fell into the elevator. He kissed her like a man suffocating and she the purest oxygen, devouring her mouth, taking her taste, her air, the sweetness of her lips. Her arms went around his neck as she pressed herself against him, rubbing against his cock as if she couldn’t help it.

  “Poor thing.” Wrapping one hand around her waist, he slipped the other beneath her skirt to find her core. He caught her moan as his fingers brushed her damp mound, the slick engorged bud of her clit. He probed lower, then thrust his finger into her slit, groaning himself as he encountered the heat of her channel for the first time. “Ride my hand until the door opens,” he murmured against her mouth. “Take the edge off.”

  Without hesitation she did, grinding against his hand as he continued to take her mouth, breathless moans dotting her lips as he kept away from her clit. He wanted that sweet pussy gripping his cock when she came for him for the first time. And the second. And maybe even the third.

  He didn’t remember much about getting from the elevator to Nadia’s door. He did remember standing behind her, pressing kisses along her shoulders and the back of her neck as she fumbled with unlocking the door. “I can’t wait to make you come,” he whispered in her ear just before his teeth closed on her earlobe.

  She squealed, dropping the keys. “Dammit!”

  “I’ll get them.” He bent down to retrieve them, getting a good look at the length of her legs, the strappy black sandals, the bright pink of her toes. “I want you to leave these on,” he told her roughly, skimming his fingers up her ankle to her thigh as he regained his feet. “Only these.”

  Nadia could only nod as he unlocked her door, then stepped back for her to enter. She managed to deactivate the alarm, then tossed her keys and clutch onto the hall table. Turning to face him, she reached for the straps holding her dress up, loosened them, then let the garment fall to the floor, her bra following soon after. Her entire body vibrated with the need to be taken.

  “You’re so damn beautiful.” A gleam of hunger lit the depths of his eyes as his gaze raked her from head to toe. “Or as the ancient Egyptians said, ‘She is one girl, there is no one like her. She is more beautiful than any other. Look, she is like a star goddess arising at the beginning of a happy new year.’”

  God. Who knew quoting erotic poetry would do it for her? She held out her arms. “I need you, Kane.”

  “You have me.”

  The poor man didn’t have a chance. She launched herself at him, plastering his face with kisses, hands going for his belt as he worked the buttons of his shirt. It took too damn long, but then again, he had to wear the clothes back home. Then they switched, Kane reaching for his wallet before kicking his trousers away as Nadia pushed his shirt from his shoulders. He extracted a couple of foil packets then threw the wallet toward the door.

  Her eyes slid shut at the first touch of bare skin on bare skin. His hand cupped her breast, thumb brushing across the hardened tip. A purr of pleasure escaped her throat as she shoved her hands into his hair, guiding his mouth to her othe
r breast. He obliged her silent request, laving the tight bud with his tongue. The purr grew to a moan as he sucked her nipple into the warmth of his mouth. “Kane.”

  He scooped her up, walking deeper into the main room. She wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing him for all she was worth, pressing herself against him, needing him inside her.

  Still devouring her mouth, he balanced her on the back of the sofa. “Can’t go slow right now,” he muttered against her mouth as he tore open a condom.

  “You’ve been working me up all night,” she shot back. “I don’t need slow right now. I just need you to fuck me.”

  “Then turn around,” he growled. “Bend over the couch.”

  With a little mewl of approval she did, widening her stance, waiting and ready. A thrill of anticipation gripped her as she waited for him to slip on the condom.

  “Nadia.” He slid a hand slowly down her back, stopping at her waist. “You’re so beautiful. Every part of you. Especially this part.”

  The blunt head of his cock slipped between her thighs. She was so slick, so ready for him, that it didn’t take much coaxing to breach her. That first full stretching moment of penetration had her groaning loudly at the oh-my-God fullness. “God, Kane, that feels so good.”

  “Better than good. Better than great.” His voice was a guttural grumble as he withdrew then thrust forward again, sliding fully home. He rocked against her, hands gripping her waist to hold her in place for each sensual slap of his body against hers. Rocking, rocking, rocking, then pleasure so fine she couldn’t even cry out. Her hands dug into the sofa cushions as her inner muscles tightened around him, squeezing him.

  “Nadia.” One hand slipped around her hip, fingers unerringly finding the center of her pleasure. The other hand gripped her shoulder for purchase as he increased the pace and force of his thrusts, driving into her in the relentless pursuit of ecstasy. His voice, low and breathless and hypnotic, wrapped around her, telling her how good she felt, how tight she was, how close to the edge she made him. She could only moan her agreement as she fell deeper and deeper beneath his sensual spell.

  With multiple waves of pleasure rolling through every part of her body, she danced a razor’s edge between being in the moment and being catapulted out of it. So close, so close . . .

  “Oh God. Kane. Oh God, oh God, oh God . . .” The orgasm hit her like a sucker punch low in the gut. She threw back her head with a guttural cry, arching her back and grinding her buttocks against his groin to wring out every bit of sensation.

  Kane gripped her shoulders as he pistoned into her in a maddening pace, the slapping of their bodies loud in the open living room. With her orgasm still shredding her senses, her inner muscles continued to spasm around his thickness. “God, Nadia,” he breathed. “Want to last . . . longer. But can’t. Can’t. Have to, have to . . .”

  His hands dug into her collarbone as he slammed into her one final time, the force of it moving the couch several inches. With a deep rumbling groan he came, pulsing deep inside her and touching off another ripple of bliss.

  Spent, overwhelmed, she collapsed against the back of the sofa, dimly aware of Kane easing out of her. Struggling to catch her breath and gather her shattered senses, Nadia could only think one thing: Professor Kaname Sullivan had definitely made the grade.

  FOUR

  Nadia put the last pan of Wide-Eyed muffins into the oven, dancing as her tablet shuffled through her “shake and bake” baking music mix. She and her assistant Jas always started their very early day with upbeat music because she didn’t want to bake while in a bad mood, believing it transferred to her pastries. A silly superstition, perhaps, but she’d learned that from her grandmother and no one argued with Nana Elena. No one ever left the café in a bad mood either.

  She joined Bruno Mars singing about sex and paradise as she began to cut the dough for organic fruit turnovers. Jas entered the kitchen, grinning at her as he pulled on his apron then tucked his black bangs beneath a hairnet. “Morning, boss! I guess I don’t have to ask you how well it went last night, huh?”

  “How do you know about that?” she demanded, not really angry. “You weren’t even here yesterday!”

  “Two local celebrities hooking up is big news in a small town, even a small college town like Crimson Bay,” her assistant said, turning on the faucet at the wash-up sink. “More than a few people saw you guys at Pascal’s last night.”

  “I’m not a celebrity,” Nadia argued, feeling her stomach tighten. She didn’t want to be the town’s entertainment. Been there, done that, bore the scars.

  Jas stared at her in surprise. “Of course you are. You’re the goddess of goodies, the queen of croissants, the princess of pastries, the star of Spice of Life. And the professor, well, you know what his fans call him.”

  The Spice of Life with Nadia Spiceland. Her very own show, with cooking segments interspersed with trawling the party scene most twenty-somethings in Los Angeles gravitated to, was her prize for winning a reality television cooking competition that had catapulted her younger, stupider self to a level of fame she’d been ill-prepared for. “That was a long time ago, Jas,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “I’m not that person anymore. I’m just a café owner now.”

  Jas rolled his eyes. “If you’re looking at me to blow your skirt up with compliments, I guess I will. Even if you weren’t a reality show graduate, you’ll never be ‘just a café owner.’ You’ve got way too much skill for that. I hope to be half as good as you when I grow up. Am I done kissing ass now?”

  Nadia laughed and swatted at him with her hand towel. “You are so done. Now get to work on your brizzas.” The breakfast pizzas had become a big hit for cash-strapped college kids who needed a healthy, inexpensive option to start their mornings off right.

  Successfully dodging questions she wasn’t ready to answer, Nadia threw herself into the routine of prepping, baking, and staging. Just before opening for business she pulled out her phone, took a picture of the Wide-Eyed muffins, then sent the photo to her father Victor, with the message: These turned out great! Thanks for the name. See you soon. Smooches!

  Less than a minute later, Victor replied. Told you so. :p Can’t wait for the next one. Smooches back at you.

  Smiling, Nadia slipped her phone back into her pocket and went out to open the café. Daddy Vic had always experimented in the kitchen, with Nadia at his side as soon as she could hold a spoon. As she and Siobhan had planned the menu at the café, she’d sent photos and ingredient lists to both her fathers. It had been as much to solicit their suggestions as to prove that she and Siobhan were handling the pressures of starting their own business. They’d always worry—and God knew she’d given them plenty to worry about—but at least they didn’t hover or do random drive-bys from two hours away.

  At eight o’clock, just when the first rush slowed down, Siobhan entered the café. “You’ve got until the time it takes me to make a cup of coffee, and then you’re going to spill,” her partner said as she rounded the counter.

  Nadia rolled her eyes. “Good morning. How are you? I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

  “I don’t need to ask how you’re doing. Everyone who comes in the store is blinded by that glow you’ve got.”

  “Oh God.” Mortified, Nadia examined her reflection in the chrome surface of the espresso machine. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only to everyone who knows you had a hot date last night,” her partner teased. “So, you going to spill or what?”

  No, she wasn’t. Not if she could help it. “I don’t know about you, but I have a café to run. Don’t you have some soup to make and bread bowls to bake?”

  “What, you think I can’t listen and cook at the same time?” Siobhan sighed as she took her first sip of caffeine. “Rosie will be here in thirty minutes to relieve you at the register. Come to the kitchen when she does. Audie and Vanessa want me to cal
l them so you can fill us in on all the dirty details at the same time.”

  Groaning, but knowing her friends wouldn’t let her off the hook, Nadia agreed, then went back to helping customers while Jas kept the cases stocked and the beverages coming. Thirty minutes passed by much too quickly, and she nearly bit poor Rosie’s head off when the perky student greeted her. After fixing herself a chai latte, Nadia headed for the kitchen. Delaying would only make Siobhan come and get her. The last thing she wanted was to recap her evening in front of their staff and customers.

  As usual, stepping into their kitchen made her sigh with satisfaction as the scents of baking bread, simmering soups, and cooking cakes tantalized her. Getting to this point had been a long, hard road for both her and Siobhan, and they both took pride in the results of their efforts.

  “Stop daydreaming and get your ass in here,” Siobhan ordered as she stirred a vat of the soup of the day. As usual, she had her platinum blonde locks artfully piled atop her head beneath a bright teal bandana, her pink Sugar and Spice T-shirt tucked into turquoise capris. White ankle socks and turquoise sneakers completed the look. On anyone else, the outfit would have been just shy of ridiculous. But Siobhan’s hourglass figure and retro-chic style made the look work for her. Siobhan could even make an apron look like high fashion.

  “You keep snarking on me and I’m not going to tell you anything,” Nadia complained as she headed to the sink to wash her hands. She had cakes and pies to make to complement Siobhan’s lunch menu. Jas had already created and decorated batches of cupcakes, and multiple loaves of bread were cooling on the racks.

  “Come on, Nadia, you know you want to dish. Besides, why would you deny your best friend the opportunity to live vicariously through you?”

  “Because my best friend should be out getting her own.”

  Siobhan waved her hand in dismissal. “Whatever. Today is about you.” She waggled her perfectly arched brows. “So how good was it? Did Professor Sex live up to his name?”