Chapter 5 #3
“Right.” She leans against the counter, distracting me with the sight of those rounded breasts in profile. “They’re like Martha Stewart on crack.”
“So why don’t you ask them?”
Cassie blinks. “Call my sisters to ask which kitchen gadget you should use to spank me?”
“I wouldn’t phrase it quite like that, but yes.”
She sets down the flipper and gives me a curious look. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
Before I can say anything else, she’s grabbed her iPhone off the table and is hitting a speed-dial number. She’s four feet away, but I can hear a woman’s voice answer on the other end of the line.
“Hey, Missy, it’s me. Listen, I have a question about cooking.”
There’s some chatter on the other end of the line, and Cassie seems to hesitate before responding. “Uh—brownies.”
I can’t make out the sister’s reply, but I hear a muffled squeal of joy or surprise. Cassie glances at me and rolls her eyes. She mouths the words, “I told you,” but all I can think about is how amazing those lips would feel wrapped around my—
“I’m licking them right now,” Cassie says. I almost drop my wineglass. I’m glad Cassie just turned her back so she can’t see me gaping at her like an idiot. “And yes, I turned off the beaters before sticking my tongue in them. That’s not what I wanted to know, though.”
She turns back to me, and I pick up the rubber scraper and the spatula and pantomime a two-handed spanking using both tools in rapid succession. It looked a lot cooler in my mind, but in reality, I probably look like a dork playing air drums. Cassie giggles.
“I just need to know which tool is the right one,” she says. “The brownie batter keeps getting stuck to the side of the bowl. What should I use to get it off?”
Her sister prattles on for a helluva lot longer than it should take to answer that question. I catch snippets of the lecture, words like “silicone head” and “spreader,” which sound a whole lot dirtier than Missy probably means them to.
“Oh,” Cassie says. “So, that’s not a flipper or a turner or whatever?”
More words from Missy. Cassie seems like she’s only half listening now.
Her gaze has dropped to the tool gripped in my right hand, and I can tell she’s imagining what it might feel like smacking hard against her soft flesh.
I set down the flipper and draw back the rubber scraper.
That seems to be the gadget that piques her interest the most. The one she mentioned first. Regardless of what it’s called, I suspect it’s what I’ll use to fulfill her fantasy.
I hold my left hand out flat and open my fingers.
Cassie watches, mesmerized, while her sister drones on.
I draw back the rubber scraper in my right hand, winding up like a batter.
She licks her lips, gaze fixed on my open palm.
I bring the scraper down hard, whacking the rubber head against the center of my palm.
Smack!
“Oh!” Cassie gasps. Her cheeks flush pink, and I hear her sister asking what just happened. “Nothing,” Cassie says. “I—uh—I’ve gotta go. Uh-huh. Love you, too.” She hangs up the phone before her sister can ask more questions.
Her eyes are still fixed on the tool in my hand, and I watch as she licks her lips again. “We can call it a spatula. Um, I could tell you all the etymology Missy just explained, and how—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
She nods once. “Good.”
“This is the tool you wanted?” I ask. “What you imagined when you told them the story?”
She nods and watches me set it down on the counter. I swear she looks disappointed, but there’s something I need to get out of the way before I lay a hand on her. “Do you want to have a safe word?”
“A safe word?”
“Yeah. It’s a word we agree on beforehand that—”
“I know what a safe word is. I’ve read Fifty Shades, remember?”
I don’t know why I’m happy to hear she’s not working from personal experience, but I am. “I think it would be a smart idea to have one. For both of us.”
“Okay.” She frowns. “How about Jory?”
“Jury? As in trial by?”
“No, Jory. As in Oregon’s state soil.”
“Oregon has a state soil?”
She sighs and picks up her wineglass, then takes a small sip before she sets it back down on the counter. “Fine. You come up with something.”
“Okay.” I think about it for a few beats. “How about a computer term? Something like gigabyte?”
“Gigabyte?” She rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to remember to yell gigabyte if you smack my ass too hard.”
“All right.” I step a little closer, brushing against her on purpose as I grab a second spatula from the container.
This one is bright orange with a bigger head than the first one she’d grabbed.
She watches me turn it over in my hand, and I tap it softly against my palm.
“Maybe we should choose a sexy safe word,” I suggest.
“Sexy. Yes, that’s good.”
“Lube?”
She shakes her head. “What if I’m actually asking for it?”
“You are kinda asking for it.” I grin, and Cassie rolls her eyes again.
I love that she can be simultaneously turned on and playful.
I set the spatula down and reach for her.
I take my time sliding a hand down her side, memorizing the curve of her hip.
She shivers under my palm, then shifts her weight to lean into my touch.
“How about salacious?” I suggest. “Arouse? Stimulate?”
I’ve never used vocabulary words as a seduction technique before, but it seems to be working. With Cassie, anyway. I caress her hip again, then continue up. My palm dips into the curve of her waist and keeps going, barely grazing the side of her breast. Cassie gives a soft groan.
“Don’t you think there’s a chance words like those might come up in conversation?
” Her voice is high and strained as I cup her left breast in my hand.
The fabric of her shirt is cool and slippery, but underneath I can feel how warm she is.
I stroke my thumb over her nipple, rewarded by another soft gasp.
“Perhaps.” I run my hand down her body, taking my time stroking her waist, her hip, her ass. I find the hem of her skirt and slide up until my fingers make contact with the edge of her panties. Cassie gasps and grips the counter.
“How about undulate?” I suggest. “Rhythmic? Lubricious?”
She moans aloud as I ease a finger under the elastic of her panties.
I’m surprised to find her already wet, and I wonder if she was touching herself before I got here or if this happened in the last couple minutes.
Either way, she feels fucking amazing. I dip a finger into her, and she moans again.
My cock strains at the front of my pants.
“Oh, God,” she groans when I slide my finger inside her, all the way to the second knuckle. Her hips seem to move without her consent, tilting toward me to offer just the right angle.
With the hand that’s not touching her, I lift my wineglass to my lips and chug the last of it. Then I set the glass aside and turn my full attention on her.
“Surely, we can find a good safe word,” I say. “How about plunge? Or maybe erotic.”
Cassie gives a low little moan in the back of her throat. I don’t even know if she’s hearing my words. Her eyes are closed, and she’s rocking against my finger like she’s fucking my hand. The rhythm is slow and sweet, and I’m not certain she realizes she’s doing it.
“Susurrus,” I whisper, leaning close so she can feel my breath on her throat.
She laughs, though it comes out more like a moan. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“Susurrus,” I repeat. “Whispering, murmuring.” I lean closer, letting my lips brush her earlobe as I draw out each syllable.
“Simon—”
“I don’t think Simon is a good safe word,” I whisper. “I plan to make you scream it by the time we’re through.”
She whimpers and grinds herself against my finger. “Please.”
“Definitely not a good safe word.”
She turns and grabs me by the front of the shirt. Her eyes are a little wild, and she’s tight around my finger, her pussy slick and hot. She slides her fingers up my arms, and her eyes are pleading.
“Please,” she whispers again. “I want you. Now. Please.”
Then she presses her lips to mine.