The Hound

by Nikky Kaye

  I shook my head. “I need a cookie sheet.”

  He shoved the pan back in the cupboard, muttering to himself, “Do I have one of those?”

  “You’ve never made cookies with her?”

  His broad, bare shoulders shrugged, glancing against my thigh. His head bobbed as he looked in the cupboard. My fingers slid over the greasy strips of bacon, pulling them out and separating them.

  “Do you have parchment paper?”

  “Honey, I am a single man. You’re fucking lucky I have this.” He slapped a rectangular metal pan on the counter. It looked like a casserole pan of some kind, but it would do. Stella hadn’t heard—or hadn’t registered—his adult language, having traded the cooking class for TV.

  Jake did have tin foil. While I lined the pan with it, I instructed him to turn on the oven.

  “I like it when you’re bossy,” he said.

  My hand trembled as I lay out the strips. “Most men don’t.”

  “I’m not most men.” His arms circled around me to pin me against the counter.

  Heat bloomed over my chest with the sensation of his breath on my bare shoulders, but my nipples hardened as though an ice cube had been touched to them. He stood so close behind me that I felt his erection press into my lower back.

  “Um, sugar?” I shuddered as he swept my hair over my shoulder so he could nibble on my neck. Oh god, he knew exactly where to touch me, where to taste me.

  “Honey?” His tongue dragged over the pulse in my neck. Could he feel it throbbing?

  “N-no, I need sugar. Brown sugar, if you have it. And chili powder.”

  “Sweet and spicy. I like it.” He hummed his approval, his teeth clamping down gently like a vampire’s bite.

  Oh god. This was why women shouldn’t go without underwear. The arousal flaring through me threatened to soak through my jeans. His large, hot body trapped me, his hips rocking against me with prurient promise.

  Brown sugar and chili powder were too much to ask of a bachelor’s pantry, apparently. Jake gave me just enough space to work, while making it almost impossible for me to focus. My focus atrophied as I improvised with maple syrup and a bit of black pepper.

  “You know what’s so great about bacon?” he whispered in my ear as I covered it with another sheet of foil. I didn’t want the fat spattering in the oven and setting off the smoke alarm.

  “What?”

  “The way it melts on your tongue. Salty. It can be crispy or chewy, but you can still taste it on your lips for a long time after.” He licked my neck. Oh my…

  It was a surprise that I hadn’t gone up in flames yet, with the way that Jake’s hands splayed over my hips. His fingers slid into the pockets of my tight jeans, and his thumbs dipped under the waistband. I felt like a human thumbprint cookie, like his touch would leave a mark. Somehow I slid the bacon into the oven without burning myself. It helped that Jake stepped back to let me open and close the door.

  Briefly.

  “How long?” he asked, spinning me around until we were facing each other.

  “Um, we should keep an eye on it.” The edge of the counter dug into my back. He was so. Damn. Close. And I loved it. “Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes? It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On how you like it,” I said faintly. I tilted my head back to see him lick his lips. His eyes were dark.

  He looked hungry—and not for the bacon popping and crackling in the oven behind me. “Bacon is bacon. It’s always good.”

  “Unless you burn it,” I pointed out, glancing over at Stella in the living room.

  “I might not be a great cook, Annie, but I’m great in the kitchen.”

  I hissed as his knuckles brushed against the ticklish skin of my belly. Gasped as he popped open the button of my jeans. Moaned as his hand dove inside to drag through my damp cleft.

  “Holy fuck.” My eyes closed as he twisted his hand, plunging two thick fingers into me.

  “God, I wish. I want you, Annie.” His breath was hot against my mouth as he bent over me. “I want to peel these goddamn jeans off you and lift you up on this counter.”

  I wouldn’t mind that. “What else would you do to me?”

  “What wouldn’t I do?” His chuckle rubbed against all my nerve endings as his fingers curled inside me. “I’d line myself up with your tight pussy and push inside, very, very slowly. Give you time to adjust.” He added another finger.

  “Considerate of you.” I bit my lip.

  “I’m that kind of guy.”

  I frowned. “What if we don’t line up? What if we didn’t, uh, fit?”

  I was on sensory overload, close to shorting out like a blown fuse. The scent of the cooking bacon curled around us, the unmistakable sweet, salty, spicy scent penetrating my senses.

  “Hmmm.” He considered it. “Then I guess I’d just have to spread you open and use my tongue.”

  Oh god. I could imagine that. I could almost feel it. Warmth suffused me. “That doesn’t sound… uh… hygienic.”

  He sighed. “You’re right. I’m dirty.” The curve of his lips told me that he offered no apologies for it. Honestly, I didn’t expect any, nor did I really want them.

  “I think I like you that way,” I confessed.

  I only saw a flash of his grin before he captured my mouth, his tongue sweeping inside as mercilessly as his fingers.

  Up and down. Back and forth. He teased me and tortured me, taking me swiftly to the edge of climax.

  I’d be done before the bacon.

  He raised his head to examine me as I panted. “You gonna come for me, Annie?”

  Did I have a choice? I shuddered, my body responding uncontrollably. I bit my lip—hard.

  “Oh yeah,” he growled. “I want to feel that slippery cunt of yours tightening. I fucking crave that right now. The bacon has nothing on the scent of your sweet pussy. That’s what’s making my mouth water.”

  “I’m better than bacon?” My eyes rolled back—partly in disbelief, but mostly because I was falling apart.

  “Honey, I’m pretty confident that I can cook you. Right. Now.” He rubbed his thumb over my clit while twisting his fingers inside me, and I fell over the edge.

  It wasn’t an earth-shaking orgasm. It was a storm surge flooding my senses, filling my body with pleasure. If his hands weren’t holding me steady, I might have slipped off the counter, rolling with the tide.

  “That’s it. Oh yeah, Annie. You’re so gorgeous when you come.”

  He made me feel gorgeous, especially when he kissed me with such tenderness and sweetness. Jake had me all mixed up—beaming with pride, but blushing like a virgin bride on her wedding night.

  The heat in my face turned nuclear when I heard Stella begin to sing in the next room.

  Oh my god. Had I just let Jake—? While his daughter was twenty feet away?

  My hands on his chest, I pushed him backward until his ass bounced off the edge of the island.

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Stella!” I hissed as I slithered down. My knees wobbled and my fingers fumbled at my jeans as I tried to make myself presentable again. “Seriously? She’s right there. That was so dumb. So reckless. So—”

  “Hot.”

  My lips parted. “You have no shame, do you?”

  “Nope.” He snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. His other hand went to my chin to tilt my face up. “Don’t get me wrong, Annie. I would never—never—do something that would hurt my daughter. Fuck, I don’t even date seriously.”

  My stomach lurched at the reminder. What did that make me? A fling? A fuck buddy? A cock tease?

  The substantial bulge pressing against my stomach reminded me that only one of us had been satisfied.

  His fingers tightened, his thumb rubbing my bottom lip. “Annie, there is a time and a place for everything.” He jerked his head toward the living room. “She’s fine. That’s her time and her place—for now. This is ours. If I thought she was even remotely int
erested in what we—”

  “Daddy!”

  Stella stood beside us, pointing at the smoking oven.

  Chapter Nine

  Annie

  “So are you all moved in?” Evie sat forward, her wine nearly spilling with the sudden movement.

  “It’s temporary,” I reminded her. “And not exactly my choice.” She didn’t even flinch when I narrowed my eyes at her.

  When she’d arrived at the restaurant to pick me up after work, I was happy to see her—until she announced that she was assigned “security detail.” Jake really didn’t think I could take care of myself, even enough to get to his place after my shift? Then again, maybe he suspected that I would have just gone back to my apartment.

  He would have been right.

  Evie’s curvy body and bouncy blonde hair was not unwelcome at the restaurant. Darren, the bus boy slash dishwasher, kept sneaking peeks at her before averting his eyes like she was an eclipse. Even John, our uptight manager softened as Evie’s smile contaminated his front of house.

  It had been less than a week, but I was getting sick of my own, personal Secret Service. Jake and his daughter had accompanied me to my apartment a few days earlier, so I could get some more personal items.

  Stella helped “fold” my clothes as we filled a suitcase. “Now you’ll have pajamas!” she said as she packed my only set.

  “Don’t let her pack your underwear,” Jake whispered in my ear.

  I raised an eyebrow. “I can’t not bring underwear.” For one thing, it was impractical. For another thing, it was a little, er, messy—especially around him.

  He had a dampening effect on my lady bits.

  When I said as much to him, he seemed unconvinced that I was a lady. His amused hum sent a little ripple of excitement through me. “I’ll be in charge of packing your panties,” he said.

  “Perv.” But I smiled, pointing to the top drawer of a dresser I salvaged and repainted. “Help yourself.” He still owed me for the pair he ripped off me.

  “What next?” Stella asked.

  She was so damn cute, it made my teeth hurt. I sent her into the bathroom to get my toothbrush.

  “And why don’t you see what else you think I might need?” I suggested, a little curious what a three year-old would come up with as essential items.

  Beaming at being assigned such an important task, she disappeared into the closet-sized bathroom.

  Jake examined my bras—thankfully in the drawer, not the one on my body at that moment. Yep, damp panties. Blushing despite myself, I went in the other room to pack my laptop bag.

  When I returned, Stella was still on her toiletry treasure hunt, and her father’s eyes had darkened into pools of lust. What exactly was in my top drawer, again?

  Silently, he dangled a lace thong from his fingers.

  “Definitely pack that,” I told him. “In fact, pack all of them.” I had the feeling I would need extra—not that I even knew how long I’d be held hostage at his place.

  He tossed a handful over to the bag on the bed. Looked back and hummed.

  “These are sexy.” Jake held up my oldest pair of granny panties for when Aunt Flo came to town.

  I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or serious. “Sentimental value,” I said.

  Holding my gaze, he twisted his fingers around the worn cotton, and tore a giant hole in the ass with his thumb.

  “Oops,” he drawled.

  My mouth fell open. Seriously? “You need to take me shopping,” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Done!” Stella traipsed back into the room, dumping an armful of stuff on the bed. We all sat down to examine her loot like it was a bag of Halloween candy.

  Toothbrush, check. Toothpaste, check. Shampoo and conditioner, check and check. I smiled at Stella. “Good job.”

  I frowned when I saw my razor. Shit, she shouldn’t have touched that. I snatched it up and moved it out of her reach.

  “Daddy uses those on his face. Do you?”

  Jake snickered.

  “No, sweetie. I use them on my legs, mostly.”

  “And a few other places,” Jake said under his breath, before holding up a maxi pad in bemusement.

  “I didn’t know if you needed your diapers,” Stella explained. “I still pee my pants sometimes, too.” Her disappointment in herself was obvious.

  Her father’s chuckles turned into a laugh, while I just turned bright pink. Oh god. “It’s okay,” I said lamely. “Thanks.”

  If I thought that would be the most embarrassing part of my day, I was sorely mistaken. Jake somehow managed to interrogate every man of my acquaintance that we came in contact with—from the gruff building superintendent to the staff at the restaurant when he dropped me off at work. And he refused to lay off when I asked him to.

  “Jake, don’t you think that I’d know if this…” ‘Secret admirer’ sounded too trite, and ‘stalker’ too scary. “This guy is someone I already know?”

  “Why would you rule it out? He probably is. You’re pretty irresistible for a short chick with zero martial arts skills.”

  “You’re such a charmer. No wonder Evie likes you,” I said, a lump rising in my stomach at the reminder of his past with Evie.

  I wanted to bring it up with her, so badly. I wanted to ask her what he was like, when she was with him.

  Jake had told me it was a casual thing, and to drop the subject, but… now, on Evie and Dom’s penthouse couch, the thought lay between us like the bottle of cabernet we’d almost finished.

  “Jake’s such a bachelor,” Evie mused. “How’s he adjusting?”

  “Fine.” I wanted to lay claim to him somehow, wanted her to know that I meant more to him than she did—even if I wasn’t sure whether it was true, or even if I wanted it to be so. “He said I could redo the bedroom in French Country,” I joked.

  “So you are sleeping with him.”

  Shit. Well, it wasn’t exactly a secret. My friend stared off into the distance while she sipped her wine. A mysterious smile transformed her mouth, like she was the Mona Lisa of ménage.

  Yeah, I knew she’d been with Jake and Dom, separately and together. In fact, I’d pushed her to try it, to experiment, to take a chance. Now I wondered if I’d pushed her too far.

  “Did he—” I broke off, not sure I wanted to know.

  “Did he what?”

  “Nothing.” I pulled out the collar of my black button-up shirt, fanning myself against a sudden flash of heat.

  “Bullshit. Did he what?” Evie had gained a lot of confidence since meeting the Stone brothers. I wished I felt that kind of assurance.

  “Did he kiss you a lot?” I asked her quietly, staring at the dregs of wine in my oversized glass.

  Jake kissed me more than I… what? Thought he would? Thought he should? Maybe he thought I needed practice. The memory of his taste and his tongue in my mouth made me reach to empty the bottle.

  “Annie, are you asking me to kiss and tell?” Evie giggled, her fair skin flushed from the wine. “He’s a good kisser, but Dom’s better.”

  Big sip. Eye roll. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Dom does this thing at the top of my upper lip—I can’t describe it. He kind of does the same thing when he’s going down on me, and it just blows my mind.” She expanded her fist out, stretching her fingers out in the air.

  I sighed.

  Silently, Evie put her wine glass down on the coffee table. Then she reached over and stroked my cheek. “I’ve never seen you blush so much!” she said.

  “It’s the wine.”

  “No, it’s not. Are you shy? Annie, what happened to the woman who chanted ‘do it, do it, do it’ over the phone when I was thinking about a threesome?”

  “I was—oh, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Everyone loves Evie; I get it.”

  Suddenly it was so clear. I was jealous.

  Of course, it had occurred to me before, but I was really jealous. And insecure. Evie was all blonde an
d bust and bubbles, and Jake had clearly been attracted to her at one time. I was so different from her—why would he like me?

  “Seriously, Annie? What a dumb thing to say.” Evie scooted closer on the couch, until our thighs were touching. “You’re gorgeous.”

  “I’m ‘exotic.’” I made air quotes and rolled my eyes.

  “You’re smart.”

  “Not as smart as you.”

  “You’ve got street smarts, which counts for more in my book.”

  Clearly nobody had told her about my short-lived career as a ninja.

  “But, Evie, you have boobs.” I jerked my chin down. “These are barely more than freaking mosquito bites.”

  Her laugh was so sharp and sudden that she snorted. “See. You’re also funny.”

  Okay, I would concede that.

  “Annie, you’re sexy. You have to know that.”

  “Sexy?”

  Her eyes were hooded as she met my gaze. “As. Fuck.”

  A swell of heat went through me, like an invisible ripple in the desert. The combination of Evie’s husky voice and the conviction in it made me believe it. Sure, I felt sexy with Jake.

  It was hard not to feel sexy when you were sucking a beautiful man’s brain out through his cock.

  But the way Evie was staring at me, with clear admiration, made me really think it was true. It was funny how sometimes another woman’s opinion meant more.

  “You know what I think?” she whispered. I cocked my head. Drank the last sip of wine. “I think that this secret admirer of yours has fucked up your self-esteem.”

  I choked a little. Wine was not supposed to go down that way. I shook my head, droplets of cabernet snaking a trail down my neck. “Evie, just because I have a stalker doesn’t make me worth the stalking.”

  “You’re trying to convince me that you’re not sexy because you think it will make this whole situation go away, somehow. But it won’t, and you are.”

  Was she right?

  “I also think that these are perfectly proportional.” She brushed her thumb across my left nipple, sending an arc of electricity from my breast to my core.

  Oh.

  “You just need to believe it, Annie. You think I discovered some great secret of sexual confidence? I didn’t. I just started trusting in myself. And not giving a fuck what anyone else thinks.”