by Adele Hart
“This is Ripley. Can you send up two cups of chamomile tea and a four cheese pizza?” He cups the phone and whispers. “Do you want anything else?”
I crawl up the bed and lean against him. “You. All I want is you.”
He hangs up the phone. “You got me, sweetheart.”
He pulls back the comforter and covers us both. Next the television comes to life, and he’s scrolling through the channels. “What do you want to watch?”
“Anything.”
“Nope, how are we supposed to avoid misunderstanding if we don’t understand each other? Tell me what you like.”
“I like your lips on my lips… and other places.”
“I love my lips all over you, and inside you. But I was serious earlier about getting to know you better. That means finding out more than just where you like my tongue.” He kisses me softly on the lips. “I mean, if I just put a bun in your oven, I should at least find out what kind of shows you like to watch.”
I bust out laughing. “Bun? A little cliché for a chef, don’t you think?” And ironic because that’s exactly what Malcolm called it.
“It’s because you’ve got my mind so twisted, I’m incapable of being witty right now. ” He grins. “Now, what do you want to watch?”
I tilt my head, surprised that this amazing, world-renowned chef wants to just lay back and hang out with me. “Are we really going to lie here and eat pizza, drink tea, and watch reruns on TCM?”
“TCM it is. See, I just learned something about you. You like classic movies. Look how easy that was?”
I crawl closer to him. He smells like citrus and me. “What do you like to watch?”
He rolls to his side and brushes my hair back. “I like watching you.”
I pull the pillow from under his head and smack him with it. “You didn’t answer the question.”
In seconds he’s straddling me. The robe is open and his eyes gobble me up. “On Sundays, I like football. When I choose a movie, I like mysteries or action adventure. When I’m with you, I’ll watch anything you like because seeing you happy is all I really want to see.”
A knock sounds and Ripley is up and walking to the door. He looks back and motions for me to cover up. I scramble under the comforter and pull it to my chin.
Room service wheels the cart in and pulls off the silver dome from the pizza. Ripley pulls a bill from his wallet and watches the man leave.
“Pizza,” he sings out.
He places a cup of tea on each nightstand and sets the pizza between us on the bed. I pull a slice from the plate and sit back to watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I sip the tea and cuddle with Ripley, and it is the best night of my life.
When my alarm goes off at six, his side of the bed is empty except for a note.
Leaving you was the hardest thing I had to do. Room service is coming at six-thirty with coffee, but I’ll be waiting at seven. That gives you an hour to devour the chocolate croissants I’m making for you, and it gives me an hour to devour you.
Ripley
I don't know what I’m more excited about, seeing Ripley or eating his chocolate croissants that he’s making me. Definitely Ripley.
Today calls for something a little sexier than jeans and a T-shirt. He likes my ass. God love a man with poor taste, but I’ll give him my ass. Yoga pants and a tunic it is.
It’s five minutes to seven when my phone rings. I don't look to see who it is. I assume it’s Ripley, but when Malcolm’s voice fills my ear, I’m equally excited. I walk out of the hotel and make my way to the bakery.
“How was the first day of class?” There is no hello or nicety to start. Malcolm is a straight shooter except when it comes to his sexual preferences. That little tidbit he danced around for a long time. I give myself credit for his outing because I told him to be honest with himself and to fight for what belongs to him, and he did. I’m proud of him.
“Oh, you know. It was like every first day of class. I showed up and made a second place lemon cake, had dinner at the instructor’s house, and then when everyone left, I let him have his way with me.”
“Stop screwing around. Really, how was class?”
I stay silent and wait for it to all sink in.
“You’re kidding right?”
More silence from me.
“No fucking away. You fucked Ripley Stark on the first day of class? You whore.” His teasing tone makes me laugh.
“Yep, that’s me. The virgin whore.” I didn’t mean to let the virgin part slip. It isn’t something I shared with him in the past. It is kind of embarrassing to admit that I made it to twenty-five and remained a virgin.
Silence fills the space. Malcolm is a lawyer, so it doesn’t take him long to make a deduction. “You gave your cherry to Mr. Stark? He filled your croissant? Oh my God, maybe there’s a bun in your oven.”
I say nothing.
“You did use birth control, right?” I can hear him pacing in his house. The heels of his loafers click across the stone floor. “I’m happy to be an uncle, but I was thinking you’d wait until the second or third date.”
“About that… we had a miscommunication, and it kind of got away from us. But I’m sure nothing will come out of that one time.” I hope that's true.
“They sell condoms on just about every corner.”
“Right, got it. Thanks, big brother.”
“You’re like a living soap opera. I have to leave for the office, but I want a report every day. I bought that damn class, so it’s only right. Dirty details. I want them all.”
I walk into the classroom and take in the surrounding smells. The oven is humming and Ripley wipes his hands on a towel. He looks like sin dipped in sugar.
“I have to go Malcolm.”
“Details, I’m telling you.”
Ripley stands in front of me with his hands wrapped around me gripping my ass. Yep, the yoga pants were a good choice.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” His lips touch mine and the taste of him is sweeter than honey and richer than dark chocolate. “I missed you.” He lifts me until my feet leave the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.
“What time did you leave?” My lips turn into a pout.
“I climbed out of bed about four and went home to shower and change. My girl likes chocolate croissants, and I want her to have the best. I make the best.” He turns and sets me on the stainless steel work surface.
“You’re going to make my butt even bigger.” I swing my legs back and forth and watch him walk to the oven with a mitt and pull out perfect, flaky, croissants.
“I love a big ass. I love your ass.” He slides the hot tray on the table a short distance from me. “Are you sore, baby?” His hands rub up my thighs until he’s at the apex of my sex.
The truth is I’m tender, but I wouldn’t call it sore. It’s like when you walk for a long distance and your muscles ache, but you know the best thing to do is walk some more. I wonder if sex is like that?
His thumbs slide across the crease where my body and legs connect.
“I’m okay.”
He lowers his head until our foreheads meet. “I’ll be more gentle next time. I didn’t know, Maddy. I’m sorry.”
“Stop being sorry. I’m not.” I pull my lip between my teeth and then let it pop loose. I didn’t cuss, but there was only one word to adequately describe Ripley’s man parts. Nothing else did it justice. “I loved every inch of your cock.” The heat of embarrassment rises to my cheeks.
Ripley steps between my spread legs and pulls my body toward him so I can feel just how hard his cock is. He rocks against me until he pulls a soft moan from my lips. “I’ll do it different next time. I’ll take my time. I’ll make you scream my name.”
I brace my hands on his shoulders and stop his rocking. “If you keep doing that, I’ll be screaming your name right here on this table.”
His teeth nibble at my lips. “I’ve always fantasized about sex on this table. It’s called a prep t
able and I could definitely prep you here.”
My stomach grumbles and he laughs. “Let’s feed you first, and then we’ll talk about this table.” He reaches over and picks up a warm croissant from the pan and holds it in front of my mouth.
“Mm-mm,” I moan as the flaky crust melts in my mouth with the chocolate. “I’m not sure what’s better—the croissant or sex.”
Ripley stands back and frowns. “I’m really going to have to up my game.”
Eleven
Ripley
When the door handle rattles, Maddy jumps off the table and dives for the aprons. It’s cute to see her try to pretend nothing is going on between us, and I’m sure no one is the wiser, but it makes it so much fun to tease her during the day. Today is soufflé day, and that opens all sorts of options.
Paige and Grayson walk in followed by Chad and Cliff. All eyes go to the tray of croissants on the counter. The ones I made special for Madison.
Paige trots over and makes a grab for one. I pull the tray away just before she makes contact. “These are a special order. If you’re hungry, go to the front of the bakery and grab a snack.”
I pull a pink box from the shelf and arrange the pastries on the bottom. These are Madison’s. If she wants to share them, that’s her choice.
I take them into my office and write a note on the inside of the box flap.
Everyone is at their stations when I come out. I start right in.
“The word soufflé comes from the French word souffler, which means to inflate, or grow.” I look around the room, but my gaze goes to Maddy. I like the words inflate and grow, and I stare at her plump lips knowing that if I ever found the opportunity to have them wrapped around my cock, I would both inflate and grow.
Facing forward I continue. “The secret to a perfect soufflé is making the beaten egg whites form soft peaks. It’s the egg whites that perform the miracle of making the cream rise. That cream is the key to a satisfying experience.” I don’t dare look at Maddy.
I pass out bowls of room temperature eggs. “Make sure the whites are clean. Not a speck of yolk.”
Paige calls me over and tells me about her perfect every time soufflés.
“Honestly Ripley, mine are always creamy.” She rubs her body against my arm and begins cracking eggs. I look back at Maddy and watch her grip one egg hard enough to break in her hand. Jealousy suits her.
“Careful, sweetheart. Eggs are fragile.” I hand her a spare and she mumbles something that sounds like so is my ego, but Maddy has nothing to worry about. Paige could strut about in a hand towel, and I’d only have eyes for Madison Leclerc. She narrows her eyes toward the back of Paige’s head and cracks five eggs. She’s not gentle, but she’s effective. She separates the whites and yolks perfectly.
I continue the lesson, making sure they understand that soufflés get a bad rap for being delicate. “You’ve probably heard that a loud bang can cause them to lose their volume. It would have to be a really big bang.” Once again, I look to Maddy, but it’s Grayson that speaks next.
“After a big bang, I lose my volume.” The three male students laugh. Paige pretends to be shocked, but I’m pretty sure that girl has been banged plenty. When I look to Maddy, she’s rolling her eyes. She may be physically inexperienced, but she’s not stupid. She’s heard it all before.
The rest of the morning we talk about the basic recipe, and put our savory, cheese soufflés into the oven.
Thirty-five minutes later everyone’s creations come out of the oven perfect except for Paige’s. Hers is lopsided.
“Maybe your cream isn’t that great after all,” Maddy says, while she plates hers.
Rather than see the claws come out, I send the class to the bakery to eat lunch. “Maddy, I need you to stay behind. I have paperwork for you to fill out.” I told the class to be back in an hour and I take Maddy to my office.
“All this talk of rise and blow and inflate has me hard.” I lock the door and turn toward the most beautiful woman I know.
She dips her finger into her soufflé and brings it to her lips. “My cream is perfect.”
I’m on her like lint on tape. She’s in my arms and then on my desk. “Your cream is perfect.”
“Seriously, taste it.” She dips her finger back into the ramekin and offers me a lick.
While I suck on her finger, I pull down her pants. “I plan to. I know you're sore, but I swear I’ll make it feel better.”
“Lord, do you think your spit has magical powers too?”
I press my hand to her chest and lean her back on my desk. “I know it does.” I drop to my knees and run my tongue along her slit. Her head lifts to look at me and then falls back with a sigh. “You have the most amazing cream ever. It’s honey to my tongue.” I explore her gently but thoroughly, lapping at her sweet cream like a man starved.
I breathe in her scent and revel in it. Her hips start to buck, and I hold them down. She starts to keen and moan and I warn her. “I don’t care if you scream your pleasure from the top of your lungs. All I require is that it’s my name coming from your mouth. If the whole bakery hears, I want them to know I made you cum.”
She pulls her hand to her mouth and bites down. I lick and lave at her until her thighs quake and her suppressed groans vibrate down her body. I slide a finger into her slick heat and suck on her clit. She rockets from the desk. Although her fist is in her mouth, I can still hear her call my name. It’s the most wonderful sound.
I pull her back to earth with gentle caresses of my tongue and hands. She lies limp on my desk and I’m as hard as steel.
“My mom is going to be so upset.”
I wipe the moisture from my face to the back of my hand. “About what?”
“She’s always believed her spit had super power qualities, but it’s yours we need to bottle and sell. I feel amazing.” She pulls herself to a seated position. “Now it’s your turn.” She points to my desk chair and I obey.
“I’ll show you super powers later when we have more time.” She slides from the desk, pulls up her pants, and falls to her knees in front of me.
“Have you ever done this?” She might have been a virgin until last night, but she could be a pro at giving head. Lots of girls give one or the other freely. Anger flares inside of me at the thought of her lips on any other cock.
“Nope, you’re my first, so don’t be a hard judge.”
“Baby, if I get any harder I’m going to explode.” I unzip my pants and pull out my cock. It’s engorged and ready for her lips.
“Isn’t that the objective,?” She grins up at me. “For you to explode?”
“Yes, I’d say you’re correct.”
She licks her lips, and I funnel my fingers through her hair and guide her face to my lap.
She’s timid at first, then slides those plump lips over me, and I’m lost. My dick is the first one to touch her tongue, touch her pussy. I’m in fucking heaven knowing that she belongs to me exclusively. All I need to do is convince her of that truth.
Her tongue strokes me as her lips suck. I’m the one biting my fist to keep my moans in check. When she presses down and opens her throat, I almost lose it. “Jesus. You’re going to make me cum.”
She pulls back until my head pops from her lips. “You want to come, right?” She licks her lips and plunges back down. My balls crawl up and tighten, ready to explode. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to cum in your mouth.”
She hums her consent and presses down. My toes curl, and the tension rises until my nuts are tight balls, and my cock jerks in her throat. Spurt after spurt, I unload into her mouth. My sweetheart takes everything I have to give her. When my body stops twitching, she stops licking and sucking, and I fall back into the chair.
She leans back and looks at me from under the fringe of her bangs. She is this sexy uncertain woman who pulled me into her body and stole my heart.
With a firm grip on her hips, I pull her to my lap and kiss her. She tastes like me, I taste like her, and it
is a perfect combination. We stay like this for every delicious second that we can, but it’s not enough.
Lunch ends too soon, and we have to get back to class. The second part of the day, we will finesse and perfect our soufflés, and since the morning was all about savory, the afternoon will be about sweet, but the only thing sweeter than the ingredients is Maddy’s smile.
Paige returns with an attitude. Maybe it’s because she sees Maddy and I come out of my office together laughing and smiling.
She walks up to Maddy and flicks a crumb from her shirt. “You missed a bit.” Then she steps back to stand behind her. “Doesn’t look like it missed your ass though.”
Red heat rises up Maddy’s chest until her face is like a glowing ember. I step in between them to stop what looks to be the beginning of a catfight.
Instead, Maddy sidesteps me and says, “Are you stuck in high school? Just be a girl, not a mean girl. And if you insist on being mean, you’ll have to step up your game because I eat girls like you for lunch.”
Paige stomps to her worktable and swipes her apron from the surface. I hear her mumble under her breath, “It looks like it,” and I want to bitch slap her for insulting my girl, but I don’t because this is a business and slapping a twat waffle like Paige isn’t worth the bad press.
The rest of the afternoon passes without incident, but it feels like torture to not be able to touch Maddy. Now I have to endure an hour alone with Paige because of her winning cake.
With her purse over her shoulder, and her pink box of chocolate pastries in her hand, Maddy walks out the back door, and I chase her down. “Tonight? I’ll pick you up at six, and we’ll have dinner and do whatever?”
“You sure?” She looks past me into the kitchen where Paige has jumped up onto the stainless steel counter. “Because if you need time to do other things, I understand.”
