42. I want to taste you before anything else.
42 /
i want to taste you before anything else.
rafael
I walk into my house full of excited jitters. It smells amazing in here. “Hello,” I call out.
“In here.” Charlie’s voice comes from the living room. She’s sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the ottoman, and when I walk around the corner, I see Pumpkin is asleep on her lap.
“Holyyyyyyyy shit. How did you… When did she—” I’ve lost the ability to speak. The sight of Charlie on my couch with my cat has killed any brain cells I had left.
And then she goes and giggles. I’m a goner.
Standing behind her, I place my hands on her shoulders, and she rolls her head back to look at me, red hair fanning around her like a fiery halo. “Hey, firecracker.” I lean down to kiss her and feel her lips smiling against mine.
“Another nickname? Really?” She rolls her eyes, and I have to work overtime on not throwing her over my shoulder and taking her to my bed.
Instead, I lower my mouth to her neck and my hands to sit over hers where Pumpkin is still contently sleeping. “Admit it, you’ve grown to love my nicknames.” I nip at the spot below her earlobe, and her breath hitches. “You probably even have a favorite.” I leave a trail of kisses all along her neck.
Her giggle is music to my ears. A song I’ll never tire of. “Even if I did.” She turns so we’re nose-to-nose. “I’d never tell.”
“Brat.” I kiss her nose, and she laughs, startling Pumpkin from her nap. “Well, the snuggle was good while it lasted, I’m sure. But now it’s my turn.” I flip myself over the couch, my head landing on her lap as she squeals.
“You are insane!” She’s still laughing, hands lowering as the shock of my lunging onto her lap wears off.
“Nah. I just really, really like you.” I nuzzle into her, wrapping my arms around her waist. Her left hand lands on my hair, fingers combing it gently back and off my forehead. Her stomach chooses that moment to growl at me, and I shake with laughter. “Hungry, shortcake?”
“Well, I was so preoccupied with dinner that I forgot to eat lunch.”
“Hmm. Yep. Been there.” I lift my head, very reluctantly might I add, and kiss her stomach. “Let’s get you fed, then.” I jump off the couch and extend my hand to her. I don’t let her go until we get to the kitchen, and she beelines for the large pot on the stove, opening it up to stir it. It smells incredible.
“I just need to boil the pasta, so we can start with the salad while we wait if you’d like?” She twists to open the fridge door, but I take her by the waist and haul her to me.
“I think I’d like to eat something else while we wait, if that’s okay,” I say into her neck.
“Oh. W-what did you have in mind? What about the pasta?” She melts into my body, her head rolling back to rest on my shoulder.
“You’re gonna play coy?” I chuckle and watch as the goosebumps rise on her skin. She’s wearing a long skirt, and her T-shirt is knotted loosely at her waist. I slip my hand easily under the hem, and she gasps. “You, gata. I want to taste you before anything else. And I promise I’ll cook that pasta as soon as I’m done making you come.” I move my fingers under the waistband of her skirt, and she squirms against me.
Not willing to waste any more time, I flip her around, pick her up, and place her on the counter. I’ll take all my meals at the kitchen counter if they include Charlie.
Fifteen minutes later, Charlie’s had two orgasms, and my dick is doing its damnedest to break out of my pants. While she gets cleaned up, I get the pasta going, but I can’t resist having a taste of the sauce. All right, so I have more than just a taste; I have several. Whatever vegetables she put in this severely improved the flavor.
I’ve just finished sneaking another spoonful of sauce when I hear a tsk-tsk coming from behind me. “Patience, Machado.” Her tone is soft, that gorgeous afterglow making her skin look flushed. I love that I did that. She smiles widely at me as she walks closer and takes the spoon out of my hand, setting it down. “Based on the sounds you were making, the sauce is good?” Running her fingers from my chest to my abs and back again, she waits for an answer.
“It’s delicious, honey bun.” I clear my throat, which suddenly feels a little tight. “I think it’s better than mine.” Her nose scrunches, pure joy etched on her beautiful face, and I can’t help but run the pad of my thumb over those pink lips. I suck in a sharp breath that doesn’t seem to pull in enough air and clear my throat again, feeling a twinge of anxious energy making its way through my chest. “What, uh, what did you put in the sauce?” I can feel the sweat starting to build on my forehead, a familiar dread now climbing its way up my throat.
Charlie’s excitement is obvious as she starts going on about how she would normally never eat this thing because she hates the texture, and alarm bells start firing in my brain. I barely register any of the words, but one stands out among the others. Mushrooms . She’s still talking when I step aside and rush to the front closet, flipping a bin upside down to find what I need. I think she’s calling out to me from the kitchen, maybe closer, but I can’t hear anything over the roaring in my ears.
When I turn, she’s there, confusion written all over her features. I show her the contraption in my hand, but she doesn’t take it. Too fatigued to stand, I slide my back down the wall and sit on the floor. When I open my mouth to speak, nothing comes out. I push my hand as close to Charlie as I can get it, and when she takes the EpiPen in my hand, understanding kicks in.
She’s still talking, but it’s all jumbled, and I’m going to pass out soon from lack of oxygen. I place my index finger on my thigh, near the spot where she should insert it, silently begging her to understand.
Finally, I feel the pressure followed by the sharp sting of the EpiPen connecting with my leg. I wait. And I wait. I know it’s only seconds, but they feel like minutes. Then, I pull in a deep breath of air, relief washing over me like a bucket of ice water.
“Thank you,” I whisper. The usual side effects start to take over as my heart rate shoots up and my energy comes back.
By the time I stand, Charlie is handing me my shoes. “Put these on. Do you have your wallet?”
“Yes. What?”
“I’m taking you to the hospital. Is the one a few minutes away from here okay? Or should I go to another one?” She’s moving so fast, getting her shoes on, taking her purse from one of the hooks on the wall.
“What’s happening?” My body might feel energized, but my brain is still working at a snail’s pace.
“I’m driving you to the hospital. You could go into anaphylactic shock again.” She looks at my shoes, still in my hands. “Do you need help with those?” I shake my head and slide the white sneakers on my feet. They don’t go with this outfit, but I’m not about to tell her that.
Charlie ushers me out, locking the front door on her way, and gets into the driver’s seat of my car. As her hand comes down with the seatbelt, I stop her. “Charlie. I can drive myself. It’s okay. You’re not comfortable driving in this kind of traffic.”
Shimmying away from me, she turns the car on. “Yes, I am. Not here, but I drive in London all the time. And you’re not driving yourself to the hospital.” She pulls onto the road as I’m about to argue with her, but I see the set of her jaw, and I know I won’t win this argument. She’s switched into crisis management mode, so I can tell nothing will deter her, and it’s probably safer if I don’t drive anyway.
We arrive at the hospital in less than ten minutes, and Charlie pulls into the first parking spot, practically getting out of the car before she’s even turned it off. She’s next to me as we walk through the doors and beelining for the nurse behind a desk.
“He’s just had an allergic reaction to mushrooms. EpiPen was administered less than twenty minutes ago. His throat swelled up, and he wasn’t able to speak. He was struggling to pull in air, and I don’t think he went without oxygen, but it would be worth testing his brain function as well.” I’ve never seen her like this before, so completely hyper-focused on a single task. The fact that taking care of me is that task feels pretty fucking awesome.
The nurse starts asking me a bunch of questions as Charlie steps aside, silently watching and listening. I’m taken into a room, and Charlie stays back. Where is she? I’m so jittery, but my head is starting to pound, the hammering pain quickly becoming unbearable. I want to ask for her, but instead, I run to the washroom and empty the contents of my stomach.
Great. Here we go again.