Shades of Red (Sharp Edges Duet #1)

8. La Coupe Glacée Chantilly

Ihave no fucking idea what I’m doing as I start rifling through my pantry and fridge to figure out what I’m going to make. I don’t stock the usual dessert items. I have a canister of sugar that’s only used to activate yeast when I went through a very small phase of experimenting with baking my own bread. It didn’t turn out well.

I have a few bars of pure dark chocolate that I use to enhance the flavors of some of my favorite spicy dishes. I have a jar of high-quality cocktail cherries. Sweeter liqueurs like Amaretto, Grand Marnier, and Baileys. Some fresh summer berries from the market down the street. And an uneaten pint of vanilla ice cream in the small freezer compartment above my fridge. I impulse bought it on one of the days that we had a summer heat wave, but it never appealed to me enough to eat it.

I scowl at all the ingredients lying out on the counter in a chaotic mess with no inkling of how to weave them together into a balanced dessert.

“Having trouble, chef?” the conniving brat calls from behind me.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she picked this little challenge. And I’ll make sure she’s eating more than her words before I’m through with her. “No talking,” I snap. “I’m concentrating.”

“It looks more like you trying to figure out how to make meringue without sugar or eggs. Which would be attempting the impossible,” she adds with a smug smile.

“Do you want a damn spanking?” I growl. “I said no talking.” Her smug smile of response makes me want to draw blood. “In fact, I think you’ve lost the privilege of sight too. Lay down on the table.”

“Why?” she asks, making no move to obey.

“Because I fucking said so. Would you like me to give you a better reason to listen? Because I’m more than willing to hurt you right now.”

She huffs in annoyance, but makes no reply as she carefully lies down on the table. She’s able to fit from her head to her calves, but her bare feet dangle off the table. I grab my favorite knife from the wooden block by the stove and bring it over. I let her feel the gentle hum of danger as I hold the blade over her body before taking the sharp edge and sliding it down her dress from her breasts to her stomach. The red material splits open, revealing her pale skin underneath. I want nothing more than to paint her skin red, but that will have to wait.

She squirms as I drag the knife from her belly button, over her mound, and down to the hem of her dress lying at her upper thighs. Her shift of movement makes me knick the skin on her stomach. A thin line of blood forms, and I can’t help but fixate on the lovely sight of it before bending down to lick her clean. “Oops,” I fake apologize for the cut even as my tongue flicks out and swipes the last of her blood from my lips.

Tearing a scrap of red silk from her already ruined dress, I bring it to her face. “Lift your head,” I order, wrapping the material around her eyes and tying it at the back of her head. “Much better.” Without her judgmental gaze, I can allow myself to fully appraise her naked body in the light. Her milky skin is perfect, too perfect. It makes me want to get her absolutely filthy. “Bend your knees. I want to watch your cunt leak onto the table while I work.”

She obeys, resting her feet flat on the table and bringing her heels up to her ass. I can’t resist bending low to run my tongue through her spread folds. “Good girl,” I praise with a smile on my wet lips. Then I turn to my disaster in the kitchen.

I settle on an ice cream sundae. Given my limited choices, that seems like the best I can do. I pit the dark red cherries and cut them into halves before adding them to a sauce pan with water, a bit of sugar, and a heaping helping of Amaretto. It will make a very boozy cherry sauce that shouldn’t be too sweet. I walk over to Aurélie and feed her a piece of fresh cherry, loving the way her lips wrap around my fingers when she eats from my hand.

“Like it?” I ask while she devours the fruit.

“Oui,” she sighs happily. “More, please?”

She must be starving after our long day in the kitchen. Even though we spend most of our week cooking, we rarely get a chance to eat. I feed her a few more pieces before going back to stir my pot of sauce. Feeling particularly devious, I dig through my produce drawer in the fridge until I find a small, red cayenne pepper. It’s spicy as hell, but pairs very well with dark chocolate. Aurélie expects another cherry when she bites into the tip of the chili I put to her lips.

“Putain!” she swears, choking on the spiciness prickling against her tongue. “What the fuck, Grey?”

“What is it, golden girl? Can’t handle the heat?” She tries to sit up, but I press her back down with the tip of my knife. The knife is so sharp that a small bead of blood blooms on her sternum. I resist the urge to lick it away because I like the sight of red on her skin.

“It’s burning!”

“I know it is. But you like a little pain, don’t you?”

“If you don’t fix it right now, I will take that fucking knife and stab it into your goddamn balls.”

“Fine,” I laugh, getting the milk liter from the fridge and uncapping it. “But threaten my balls one more time, and I’ll rub this pepper all over your sweet little nipples before fucking you with it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I get it,” she pleads. “Just fix it, please.”

“That’s more like it. Open up,” I demand, holding the milk carton over her mouth. She does as I ask without complaint, and I pour the milk into her mouth. It’s messy, white spilling over her lips and down her chin as she sputters and tries to get it down without choking. I stop pouring when she finally stops squirming. “Better?”

She nods her head. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, chérie.” I wipe the milk from her chin with my thumb before continuing with the peppers.

I slice the pepper into small circles, careful not to let my skin come into contact with the insides. The capsaicin always makes my skin burn, and it takes ages to remove the oil from my hands. I put the peppers into a small bowl with broken pieces of dark chocolate. Setting the bowl over a pot of simmering water, I allow the ingredients to melt and meld slowly. When it’s fully melted, I strain out the pepper pieces and brush the chocolate into thick layers over wax paper. When it cools, it will function as an edible serving dish.

With a devious spark of inspiration, I bring the bowl of still hot chocolate over to Aurélie and drape ribbons of dark chocolate over her tits. She whimpers when the heat of the chocolate makes contact with her skin, but it cools quickly enough not to sting for too long. I paint her with chocolate until her pebbled nipples are covered, and then I bend down and suck each one clean. Unable to resist, I take one tender nipple between my teeth and bite down until she shrieks, the sound of it making my cock even harder than it already was.

I run my finger through a rivulet of chocolate on her skin and bring it to her lips. “Suck,” I command. After a small moment of hesitation she does, sucking my finger deep into her mouth. Just to taunt her, I press my finger deeper until I’m stoking the back of her throat. I let her gag before pulling away. “How does it taste?”

She smacks her red lips together, trying to decipher what she’s eaten. “It’s bitter. And spicy. There’s no sugar. No sweetness.”

“Exactement. But don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of sugar soon.”

I get another clean saucepan and put it on the burner before filling it full of sugar. I cook it low and slow, stirring constantly until it melts. I take it off the heat and add a generous amount of butter as the pot bubbles and sizzles, mixing until everything is incorporated. Lastly, I add cream and sprinkle some flakes of sea salt. Again, I bring the pan over to Aurélie’s body, the caramel sauce still so hot it can burn. And with that intention, I drizzle the caramel over her thigh.

She screams, the sound of it rich with pain, full bodied and sweet. It’s the sound I’ve been waiting to hear all night. “Can you take it, chérie?” I ask, not giving her a moment to respond before dripping caramel over her other thigh. “Can you burn for me?”

She’s breathing heavily, her thighs shaking and turning red and blotchy where I’ve burned her. But she doesn’t tell me to stop. “Oui,” she answers finally. “I can take it.”

Before the caramel has a chance to cool, I quickly streak her skin with the golden syrup, painting her body until she shimmers in the light. She whimpers a little with each pour of the hot liquid on her skin, but that’s the most protest I get out of her. And I can see the sweet creaminess of her arousal flooding onto the table between her legs. My golden girl loves this. When the caramel has cooled enough not to damage, I drizzle a final stream of it over her pussy, letting it drip into her folds. When I bend down to taste her, I realize I’ve finally found a dessert I can enjoy.

When everything has reached the appropriate temperatures, I whisk a quick batch of whipped cream, fondly remembering the last time I fed her whipped cream. And I think of a way to improve the experience this time. “Open your mouth,” I order, reaching down to unbuckle and unzip my pants. Aurélie’s lips part as she sticks her pink tongue out for her next tasting. I grab her shoulders and pull her over the edge of the table until her head hangs off at an uncomfortable angle. And then I shove my hard cock into her waiting mouth.

She chokes on my length, not expecting to be throat fucked rather than finger fed. “Ah, ah, ah,” I tut when her hands fly up to my hips and try to shove me off her. “Stop fighting, or I’ll wrap my belt around your neck and latch you to the table to keep you from squirming.” She pushes against the intrusion with her tongue, but I simply squeeze her jaw and hold her steady. When I feel her teeth graze my tender skin, I slap my hand against her throat and squeeze hard. “Do. Not. Bite.”

I release my hold on her neck when her struggles finally start to fade and slide my fingers up to her hair, gently petting her head. “Good girl,” I praise. “It’s so much easier when you submit to what I want to give you.” I don’t force my cock any further into her mouth; I just let it sit against her warm tongue. “Now, do you need me to stop, or do you want to be my good little slut and see how far you can take my cock down your pretty throat?”

I wait for a moment, perfectly aware that she can’t answer either question with her mouth full. “If you want me to stop, tap your hand against my thigh. If you want me to fuck your mouth, open up that tight little throat and let me slide into it.” The charged silence that follows is so long that I start to panic that I’ve misread her completely and made the unforgivable mistake of forcing myself on her. But just as I start to pull away and apologize for being an arrogant cunt, I feel her tongue slide along the underside of my shaft as she opens herself up for me.

“Such a good fucking girl,” I sigh before I pull back my hips and thrust deep into her mouth. She whimpers around me, the vibrations driving me mad as I push further into her throat. I feel her gag, but I don’t let up, keeping a rhythm of pulling almost out of her mouth before slamming back in. She lets me use her as hard as I want, her fingers clutching the edges of the table so that she isn’t tempted to tap out.

Since this is the first time I haven’t been focused on her pleasure when we’ve been together, I reach my climax in record time. “Do not swallow,” I growl as I come into the shallow part of her mouth. “Keep my cum in your mouth. If you swallow a single drop, I’ll spank your ass with the flat of my knife before filling your mouth back up again.” When I’ve stuffed her full, I pull away and tuck my still hard cock into my pants.

“Open up. Let me see that filthy fucking mouth.” Carefully, she opens her lips and lets me see the white cum swirling around in her pink mouth. “Keep it open and don’t spill.” I walk to the fridge and grab the pint of vanilla ice cream from the freezer. I hold it by her chin and fist her hair to turn her head to the side. “Spit,” I order. She does, sloppily pouring my cum and her spit into the ice cream. Vanilla has never looked so delectable.

I go to peel my spiced chocolate from the wax paper and place the rectangular strip on Aurélie’s stomach. She’ll be helping serve dessert tonight. I use a wet spoon to scrape a cylindrical scoop of cum ice cream from the container and gently place it on the sheet of chocolate. Aurélie starts to writhe as the ice cream quickly melts and trickles down her hips. I smack her thigh with the cold, metal spoon, leaving a circular bloom of red and a smear of sticky cream on her skin.

“Stop squirming,” I command in a tone that would rival Chef Matis’ sternness. “You’ll ruin the plating.”

“I’m not a fucking plate,” she bites back, moving her hand to rub the sting from her thigh. I bring the spoon down even harder on her other thigh, loving her small shriek of pain when the metal makes contact with her skin.

“You are whatever I want you to be,” I growl while digging my fingers into the soft flesh of her upper thigh. “Now, stop wrecking my dessert, or I’ll use this spoon on your pussy.”

I drizzle the warm cherry syrup over the ice cream, loving the contrast of the red against the white. I want to see her whole body painted in red. I add a few dollops of whipped cream to the chocolate, appreciating the height and texture they add to the dish. The apartment is so warm that the ice cream has dripped all the way down to Aurélie’s cunt. I’m mesmerized as a single drop of white drips between her pink folds, sliding over her clit. The moment the melted ice cream slips over her sensitive skin, she shifts, lifting her hips into the air. It’s clearly an instinctive action, but I’ll punish her for it just the same.

“I told you not to move,” I scold.

“I d?—”

I cut off whatever excuse she was going to make when I slap the back of the spoon against her pussy hard enough to sting. She gasps when the metal makes contact with her sensitive skin. She tries to stop me by pulling her legs closed, but I slap her thigh again and pry her open.

“Stop.” I spank her right on top of her wet entrance. “Fucking.” I slide the spoon up to her clit and smack her again. “Moving.” I rub the icy metal over her clit until she starts to moan, slapping her pussy every time she moves out of position. And I don’t let up until she’s learned to take the spanking without disturbing the ice cream plated on her stomach.

“Good girl,” I praise when she finally manages to lie still in spite of her punishment. I run the edge of the spoon through her folds gently, slipping down to circle her entrance. I press in slightly, tempting her with the threat of being penetrated with the metal. She doesn’t pull away from me. In fact, her hips rise slightly to beg for more. My brows arch in surprise, and I press a little further, sliding the smooth tip of the spoon into her dripping hole. Aurélie keens, the sound desperate and needy.

I laugh at her wanton eagerness, fairly certain I’ve been lucky enough to find a girl as twisted as I am. “Is my sweet little slut so desperate to be filled that she’d fuck herself on my spoon?” I ask, my voice thick with lust.

“Yes, please, chef,” she pleads, spreading her legs wider.

She has ice cream dripping down her pussy, and her own sweet cream is spilling onto the table. She’s a fucking feast meant to be devoured. And I’m so goddamn tempted to do just that. But this is a challenge, and I want victory just a little bit more.

“It’s a shame my ice cream is starting to melt all over your pretty warm skin, or I just might do you the favor, ” I tease, pulling the spoon away from her while she whimpers in disappointment. “As it is, you’ll have to settle for taking my cock in your sweet cunt after you’ve tasted my dessert.”

The spoon in my hand is drenched in her pussy juices. Unable to resist, I bring the warm metal to my lips. There’s still a hint of cherry from the sauce mixing with her arousal, and she tastes intoxicating and sweet. I lick my lips clean while moving on to the final components of my dessert.

I dip the spoon into the bowl of salted caramel and pour smooth, silky ribbons of gold on top of the ice cream. Then I grab a stemmed maraschino cherry from my cocktail cabinet and pop the cherry on top of the mound of ice cream like an artist putting their finishing touch on a masterpiece. It’s the first ice cream sundae I’ve ever made, and it looks fucking delicious melting all over my golden girl’s perfect skin.

Using the back of the spoon, I give a hard tap against the chocolate on Aurélie’s stomach. She flinches as the chocolate breaks into pieces with a satisfying crack and leaves shards of darkness on her skin. I scoop up a piece of chocolate and dip into the cum-soaked ice cream before running through the cherry sauce, caramel, and soft piles of cream. With every element wrapped into one bite, I put the same spoon that’s been rubbed all over Aurélie’s pussy to her lips. “Time to eat, beautiful.”

She parts her lips and opens for me. Just to be a dick, I make sure I’m as messy as possible as I slide it into her mouth, painting her red lips with chocolate and cream. She moans as the flavors burst on her tongue, and I can’t help a small grumble of approval as I bring my fingers to my mouth and lick the last of the sweetness from them.

I feed her another large bite before dipping down and running my tongue over the skin of her stomach, lapping at the deconstructed sundae as it quickly melts and streaks down her stomach and over her hips. The chocolate is bitter enough to balance out the sweetness, the spiciness of the pepper plays well with the cream, and the boozy cherry syrup adds enough acid to cut through the fattiness of the dessert. I’m not a chef patissier, but this fucking works.

“What do you think?” I ask when I’ve finished feeding her everything while licking and nibbling on her skin. All that’s left is sticky trails of sugar running over her stomach and down her pussy and thighs.

“It’s good,” she answers as she licks remnants of cherries and cream off her lips. “It might even be the best glace I’ve ever had. But is it the best dessert I’ve ever had?” A smug smile stretches across her swollen lips. “Probably not.”

Fucking brat. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I already fucked that tart cherry mouth,” I retort, dipping down to claim her stained and sticky lips with my own. “Or you’d have to hand over another of your whore holes as a prize if I won.” I kiss her until she’s panting and gasping for breath. I bite down hard on her lip, groaning when I taste her blood on my tongue. “Fuck, chérie, you taste like fucking heaven.”

My eyes roam over the chocolate streaks painting her tits, the ice cream that’s dripped down her chin, the sticky mess of cream and cherries on her stomach, and the glistening ribbons of caramel on her pussy. In addition to the mess of being used as a serving dish, Aurélie’s skin is painted in the red marks from my hands and my teeth and my knife. I’ve taken the pristine princess and thoroughly ruined her. And I have to admit, she looks divine when she’s filthy.

“But you look like you went to Hell and back,” I tease as I pull her off the table and into my arms, not minding that she’s making a mess of my white shirt as she squirms frantically against me.

“What are you doing?” she shrieks, her hands flying up to the blindfold still covering her eyes. I trap her arms beneath her body and hold her steady in my arms as I walk the short distance to the bathroom.

I can’t help but laugh at the contradiction of her lying trusting and blind on the table while I dragged a knife over her skin and shoved my cock down her throat, but she’s panicking while I do nothing more than hold her gently in my arms. Her sense of preservation poofs into existence at the strangest times.

“Relax,” I command, my tone soothing rather than sharp. “I’m just going to clean you up, dirty girl.”