Devour Me: An Alpha Beds a Virgin Dirty Chef Romance
Page 8
“Good. Does it feel good?” She lays her cheek on the bedspread and lifts her ass as if she’s searching for more. I slide in the second finger and she gasps.
“Oh God. It’s too much.” She bucks her hips into my hand, and I begin the gentle strokes that will get her ready for me.
“I want every part of you to belong to me, Maddy. I’ve had your pussy. I’ve had your mouth. Will you give me your ass?” I press deeper until my fingers are fully seated.
“I’ll give you everything. Just you.”
“That’s what I want to hear. I want to hear that you’re mine. Only mine.” With my free hand I grab the lube and squeeze it between the cheeks of her ass. I push in and pull until she’s crying out my name. So sexy and such a damn turn-on.
“I’m yours Ripley, all yours.”
My fingers are nowhere near the girth of my cock, but with gentle probing I’m sure I can get it there. Just thinking about burying my dick deep in her ass has it twitching. I pull my fingers out and find her clit again. This time her moans are soft and guttural. Her sex is swollen and waiting for me.
“You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”
I raise my hand and slap her ass hard. “There will be no one else, Maddy. Mine is the first and last cock you’ll see.” She groans into the bedspread and her sex gushes leaving a glistening trail between her legs. “You’re mine. I’m where you begin and end, baby. You’re the same for me. Now climb up on your knees, and show me that ass I love.”
She does exactly what I ask, and it’s so fucking sexy to see her on all fours—her pussy wet for me, and her ass waiting for my cock.
She turns and looks over her shoulder. Her eyes are soft with passion, but also a hint of fear. “Will it hurt?”
I won’t lie to her. “Yes, it’s going to hurt. Just do what I ask, and I’ll get you through it, and then you’re going to love it. It’s going to feel so good.”
She watches me drop my pants and my dick springs forward dripping pre-cum like a leaky faucet. I slick it up further with lube and climb on the bed behind her. “No condom, baby, unless you insist.” I grasp one globe of her ass and spread her wide before I stroke my cock up and down the slit, from her clit to her tight hole. I prep her, one finger at a time, until I have two fingers pressed third knuckle deep in her ass. I press my throbbing cock into her tight pussy while her body rocks back and forth.
“So good. I feel so good. I’m so full.” She presses back until my balls slap her sensitive skin. My baby is an animal in bed. I’ve opened the floodgates of her passion, and now she wants it all, and I’ll be the man to give it to her.
“You’re not as full as you're going to be. Tell me you want it up your ass.”
She rocks into me harder. “I want it.”
“No sweetheart. I want to hear the words.”
“Fuck me.”
Those are beautiful words, but not the ones I want. I lean back and give her a quick but firm slap to her ass. She clenches down and I almost cum. “Say it, baby, tell me you want my cock up your ass.”
She drops her head to the mattress which makes her ass sit higher. “Fuck my ass with your cock Ripley,” She pants. “Before I lose my damn mind.”
“My sweet, innocent girl is dirty, but she gets what she wants.” I line my dick up with her hole and slide the tip in. She stops moving and inhales a sharp breath.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch.” Her muscles tighten down trying to force me out.
“Relax sweetie, it’s going to get better.” I withdrawal a fraction of an inch and then push forward. All the while she chants ouch, ouch, ouch. I’d stop if I didn’t know that on the other side of this pain is pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. I rock into her gently until I’m past the tight ring of muscles, and she relaxes around my cock. I press farther.
“Ouch. Ouch.” She holds her breath while I give her another inch, and then it happens. “Ohh.”
“Better?” I pull out and slide in and listen to her oh’s and ah’s, and I know she’s no longer feeling anything but pleasure.
“Good.” Maddy is reduced to single word answers.
I reach around and stroke her clit as I pick up the pace and plunge into her ass. She’s a ball of molten lava in my hands, and I love the fucking burn.
“Oh God. Oh God.” She chants and then her body stills and explodes. I can feel her pussy pulse through her ass and her muscles tighten down and pull the most intense orgasm from my body. Rope after rope of semen shoots into her tight hole, and I’m not only lost in the moment, I’m lost for life. This woman is it.
She collapses on the bed, pulling me with her. I cover her body with mine, not wanting to break our connection. Her breathing slows and steadies, and I tell her, “I love you, Madison Leclerc, and you will be mine.”
She answers with a sleepy, “yours.”
Fourteen
Maddy
The next few days are glorious. I check out of the hotel and into Ripley’s house. We make love every morning before class, and the days when we don’t eat with the other students, we eat together, or I should say we eat each other. He fills my croissant with his super sexy saliva, and I lick his whisk.
He tells me he loves me everyday, and I let those words soak into me like whiskey sauce on bread pudding. They’re strong and warm words that make me smile with delight.
I haven’t told him I love him yet. It’s not because I don’t. I’m mad about Ripley. It’s because saying it out loud makes it real, and making it real means that it could end as fast as it began.
Ripley leaves early this morning to prep for the last day of class and says he’s sending a car. I’ve learned so much while I was here. More than a baking class should teach me.
While I wait for a car to pick me up, I call Malcolm. He’s worse than any girl I know. Each morning, I call him, and he wants the dirty details. I only go so far as to tell him that Ripley and I mixed together is a good recipe.
“What’s up, Buttercup?” That’s what he says every time I call.
“I want to tell you and Luke to have a great weekend.” They are taking their chateau weekend. Using it as a honeymoon.
“Thanks so much for the gift, Maddy, and the kick in the pants to claim what’s mine. You should do the same.”
I know he’s telling me to voice my feelings. “I know, and I will, but it’s so fast.”
“I told you I knew I loved Luke the first time I met him. He was opposing council, and he excused himself from the case to be with me. Take a chance, girl.”
“You’re right, I will.” A car comes up the long driveway. “My ride is here. I got to go.”
“Okay and remember, when you choose wedding party colors, I don’t look good in yellow, and Luke and I want a nephew named James so when he gets old enough to drive we can say 'home, James'.”
“You’re crazy. I’ll talk to you next week.” Once I’m in the car, I practice the words in my head. Ripley, I love you, over and over again. My gut tells me it’s too soon, but my gut has always been a lying bitch.
It’s now or never, and when the car arrives, I rush inside the building to see Ripley standing between Paige’s legs. Her hands are on his arms. His hand is in her hair pulling it back like he does mine when he’s going to devour my mouth.
I stop for a second and watch. Paige gives me a triumphant smile, and Ripley lets her go and walks to me. I turn around and walk out. Malcolm’s words ring in my ears. Fight for what’s yours.
Ripley didn’t react the way a man caught in the act would. He stood there as if nothing were wrong at all. My gut tells me to rail at him, but I can’t trust her so I think about Paige and that smile of victory.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” My poor man has no idea what’s going to go down in seconds. He was right when he said he doesn’t notice the attention. He’s oblivious to his good looks and charms.
“Ripley, I love you. I really love you.” He smiles wide and walks toward me, but I hold up a hand. “I know you don’t pay at
“She had a lash in her eye.”
I walk to him while shaking my head. “Bullshit. What she had was you between her legs, and her hands on what belongs to me. Say it, Ripley. Say you’re mine because if you don’t, I’m going to kick your ass right after I kick hers.”
“I'd never be with her. Have you seen her ass? It’s like two communion wafers wrapped in a baggy.” He shakes his head. “Gross.”
I reach up and cup his cheek. “I know, baby, and she’s getting excommunicated.” I stomp past him into the classroom.
“Pack it up, Paige, you’re out.” I gather her things and push them into her hands sending her stumbling backwards.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” She takes a step forward trying to intimidate me.
“I’m the woman who has everything you can’t have. It’s my legs he crawls between. It’s my ears that hear him say I love you. It’s my heart he owns.” I look to the door and see Ripley standing there tall and dark and sinfully sexy wearing a smile.
“You’re this week’s treat, but what about next week?” Paige lashes back
I point to the door and yell, “Out!”
“You can’t make me.”
Ripley pushes off the doorjamb. “Yes, she can. Maddy is my everything, and if she says you’re gone—you’re gone. We’ll refund your money. Now out.” He stands beside me and weaves his fingers through mine in a show of solidarity.
Paige trudges across the floor to the door. “Why her?”
Ripley doesn’t look at her. He looks at me with those heavenly eyes and says, “Because she’s perfect.”
Epilogue
One year later
In the back yard of our Vail home, we celebrate our daughters birthday. “Mom, stop wiping her face with your spit-laced fingers. I hated it when I was a kid, and she hates it too.” What is it with moms and their superhuman spit? I find myself doing the same thing with Jamie, even though I know only her father’s saliva has super powers.
“She’s got cake all over her face, and I don’t want it on my outfit.”
Ripley comes to the rescue with a wet wipe. “Here, sweetheart. Let daddy clean your face.” She offers her face to him without a fuss, whereas she’d fight the rest of us tooth and nail, but I know the power that man has over women.
A week after Paige was tossed out on her skinny ass, Ripley had me down at city hall in front of a judge, and we were married.
I stand back and watch him with our baby girl. He’s not only the most amazing husband, but he’s the best father too. She leans to me, and I pull her into my arms. She smells like brown sugar and cinnamon. Ripley says she gets that from me, but I’m not sure.
“Come to Uncle Luke.” Luke and Malcolm stand in front of me and try to coax her from my arms. Jamie goes straight for them both, giggling and wrapping an arm around both their necks. She’s a lucky girl to be surrounded by so much love.
We didn’t conceive after that first time of unprotected sex, but once Ripley knew he had my love, we never used a condom again, and three months later we made Jamie. She’s everything that’s right when you mix the perfect ingredients together.
“I bet we can sneak off for a few minutes and try to make her a brother.” Ripley pulls on my hand and tugs me toward the house. It’s a wonder the man still wants me. He’s had me every which way he can imagine, and he’s pretty imaginative. I peek over my shoulder and watch everyone surround our girl on her first birthday.
“How about we just make love?” We walk straight back to our room and shut the door.
“Too soon to hope for a son?” Seeing the want in his eyes thrills me to no end.
“No, baby. Our next bun is already in the oven.” I lower my hand to my stomach and rub. “But, we can still practice.”
Ripley never needs to be asked twice. If there’s a chance he can be buried somewhere in my body, he’s always willing.
“I love you, Maddy.”
“I love you too. You’re mine.”
“Yours,” he says as he whips out his whisk. One look at his cock and all I want is for him to fill my croissant.
Take Me-Sneak Peek
One
TABITHA
I have the greatest job ever. Which is odd because I’m the unluckiest girl in the world. Don’t believe me? In grade ten, I was on the debate team (yeah, I know, geek alert!), and I was on stage in front of the entire school, about to make my final speech about why plastic should be banned, when my shirt buttons decided to quit on me. I took a deep breath and ‘pop’! All of them. All at once. It was like they said, ‘Ready? Now!’ In front of twelve hundred kids.
Good thing I was wearing my oldest cotton bra that I had turned that sickly gray when I washed it with my black jeans the day before. It wasn’t even underwire, so I had that whole saggy boobs thing going on. That little incident earned me the nickname ‘Gray Boobs’. My last name is Gray, so that made it extra easy for the jerk who came up with it.
After that, I learned about the glories of good lingerie, which I had to hide from my super religious step-mom, Lorraine. She spent my teenage years telling me about the dangers of boys and sex and the diseases you can get from them. She’s so disgusted by the whole thing that I swear I don’t know if she’s ever had sex, even though she has three kids of her own. All boys. All dick-heads. Lorraine and her boys are the reason I’m still a virgin. Between the four of them, they managed to turn me off guys and sex right around the age when most girls are starting to get curious about those things.
My dad married her three months after my mom died. Told you I was unlucky. We lost Mom to type one diabetes when I was ten. My dad was working nights, so the two of us were having girls night in. She and I were going to snuggle up and watch Beauty and the Beast right after she had a quick shower. She kissed me on the top of my head and told me to work on my spelling until she came down. Twenty minutes later, I realized something was wrong and went up to find her. By then it was too late. She was already gone.
That’s when Lorraine swooped in and snapped up my dad. He was a cop. A good one. And a great dad. Generous, but careful enough with his money so that we had a pretty nice house and no debt. Lorraine and her boys moved in, all traces of my mom immediately disappeared, and I was suddenly part of our ‘new family’. Three years later, my dad died. He got shot trying to break up a domestic disturbance.
And that was that.
I was alone with Mother Mary, Huey, Dewey, and Ewey (the one who always had a finger jammed up his nose).
As soon as I finished high school, I packed my lacy unmentionables and got the hell out of Virginia for good. Gray Boobs has left the building. I went to Washington University where I got my degree in economics, then managed to score my new job. I work for Theo Breckenridge—you know the one—the man who owns half of the western seaboard, the airline bearing his name, and most of the skyscrapers in downtown Seattle.
Mr. Breckenridge put an ad in the newspaper (seriously, the freaking newspaper) looking for a ‘bright, fun assistant’ and I answered it. It had nothing to do with my degree, but after six months of trying to find work and discovering that an economics degree is basically useless in the real world, I was willing to do just about anything to avoid going home again.
I’ve been working for him for almost a year now, and it’s been incredible. First of all, it pays well as far as assistant jobs go. But it’s the perks that really make it amazing. Mr. Breckenridge is eighty-five years young, and he’s trying to decide which charities get his billions. I know that sounds kind of sad, but it’s not. First, he’s super healthy and with it, so it could be another decade (or even two) before he says his final farewell. Second, he’s so happy that it’s impossible not to feel good when you’re around him. He’s a bit of a dirty old man, and he makes passes at me here and there, things like, ‘would you like me to share my endowment with you, Tabitha? It’s very generous.’ Wink, wink. It doesn’t bother me though because he’s harmless, and he’s only joking.
Besides, it’s kind of flattering in a weird way. This is probably because other than my ancient boss, I’m not exactly popular with the men folk. I’m pretty average looking—I’m a curvy, short girl with auburn, naturally curly hair that has to be kept at chin-length or it goes hog wild. I’m also super awkward around men and end up tripping over my own foot or spilling soup all over my lap. This actually happened once on a blind date. Tomato soup. Date over.
Anyway, I’m sure I could do better with them if I weren’t so awkward. But I am, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to change it.
Okay, back to the perks. I get to travel the world checking out organizations that apply for his grants. I examine ten charities per year and Mr. B chooses one that gets the big money. And I mean big, like with eight zeros at the end of a two.
Because of this, everywhere I go, I get wined and dined by desperate people who would rub my feet if I asked (which I would never do because I’m not a total hag, and also my feet are super ticklish). They show me around, I carefully go through their books and create a report for Mr. Breckenridge.
So far in the past year, I’ve been to Japan, France, Slovenia (which is beautiful, by the way, and you should totally go), Iceland (amazing!), Peru, and Canada. (Side note: It’s true that Canadians are always super nice except for when they’re in line for double-doubles at Tim Horton’s and they’re late for work and you are at the front of that line asking too many questions, like, ‘what’s a double-double?’. Turns out it’s a coffee with two creams and two sugars.)
Okay, back to our story, right now I’m on the trip to end all trips, the one I’ve been waiting for my entire life. In exactly eleven minutes, I’m going to land in the very best place I can imagine. Tanzania. There is a conservation program there that submitted an application and I am about to spend three glorious weeks in the freaking Serengeti! I’ve spent the last twenty-two hours at airports and on planes, and I’m pretty sure I have noticeably bad B.O., and I haven’t slept a wink, but I don’t care. I’m filled with the most exciting energy I’ve ever known.
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