Chapter 23 #2
It’s hot and needy. Both of us grasp at each other’s bodies and I run my hands up his stomach and over his chest, my fingertips already remembering the subtle dips and ridges of his body.
He lifts his shirt over his head before grabbing my waist and pulling me to the edge of the counter, bringing the bulge in his jeans frustrating close to my wet thong.
His hands run up my side, over my dress, and he drops his mouth to my neck.
I melt into him and throw my head back, whimpering when he nips just under my ear.
It feels so good, but one nagging thing won’t disappear from the shadows of my thoughts. How many times could we have done this if things worked out differently? And how much of that is my fault for being so stubborn about something he didn’t even know about?
In my typical self-sabotaging way, I spew my thoughts between wanting pants and breaths. “I’m sorry, Sutton. I was wrong.”
He stills again and slowly pulls his lips from my neck until he’s looking right at me. The way his soft, blue eyes harden with an icy resolve sends chills down my spine.
“No.” His response is terse and his jaw tenses. I swallow, trying to avoid his intense gaze and let my eyes linger on the muscle ticking in his neck. “I told you that you don’t need to apologize.”
My hand traces the side of his broad ribcage. I notice a small tattoo there that I don’t remember, but I also don’t care about figuring out what it is right now either.
“I just… I—” He lets his hand drop from my waist and to my dismay, he grabs the spoon from the counter and gets another spoonful of the black raspberry ice cream. I quirk a brow at him. “I hardly think it’s the time for more—”
He doesn’t let me finish that sentence. Instead, he puts the spoon right into my shocked, waiting mouth.
“Can you be quiet while I tell you two things, Shadow?”
I hum my approval and nod while the delicious berries and chocolate coat the inside of my mouth.
“Good. First, there’s never a wrong time for dessert. Got it?”
I nod again.
“OK. More importantly, if you’re going to apologize, let me be the one to tell you what you should be sorry for. Understood?”
I nod again and this time my lips part. He grabs the spoon from my mouth and sticks it into the coffee ice cream.
He cups my cheeks in each of his hands and runs his worn palms down my neck, over my shoulders until his thumbs find the neckline of my dress.
The tips of his thumbs graze my skin so delicately and make my nipples tighten.
In one swift, calculated motion his hands pull apart. I hear threads tear and gasp. He stares right into my eyes while the buttons scatter across the floor and the back of the bar. It only takes seconds, but it feels like an eternity.
Slowly, his eyes roam down my body and I see the moment when he realizes I’m not wearing a bra. My dress is ripped wide open and I’m laid bare to him in nothing but my lacy black thong. His nostrils flare and his chest heaves.
“Fuck, Shadow.” His eyes smolder as they rake over my body leaving scorched skin in their path. That look of appreciation for my body through his eyes reminds me of the way he looked at me the night we first met. “You’ve been in my restaurant all night like this?”
“Technically, I was in Rich’s bar.” I smirk at him but his jaw tenses again.
“Now’s not the time to mention another man’s name.” He presses his lips to mine in a claiming kiss, his tongue finding the back of my throat and scraping over my teeth. Message received.
He traces a finger down my neck, between my breasts all the way to my panties.
“I want you to feel the torture I’ve felt watching you for the last two years. I told you that I love desserts, so let me have mine.”
He grins and slowly lowers his head. My hips swivel up on their own, desperate to feel his contact. Then he stops and I hear the freezer open.
He stands back up with one more pint in his other hand. Talk about torture. This is maddening.
“Again with the gelato?”
“What did I say about wanting my dessert, and that there’s never a wrong time?”
“Yes, Chef,” I squeak out before shutting my mouth.
He grabs the spoon stuck in the coffee gelato. After scooping out a spoonful, he licks it slowly. “I’ve spent the last two years obsessed with you—remembering your scent, remembering what you taste like. So now I’m going to savor every fucking second of it.”
He takes that spoonful and holds it just over the space above my right breast, and below my collarbone. Slowly, he turns his wrist and lets it fall onto my heated skin, just above my nipple.
My skin is so hot that it melts and I get goosebumps from the frozen dessert. My nipple gets harder, even when I didn’t think it could and all I want is for him to touch me.
“That’s your apology for never letting me hold the door for you when you’d make your deliveries.” He watches as it melts over the curve of my breast into the hollow of my sternum. The look in his eyes is so purely wanton and lustful that I squirm under his gaze.
He grabs one of the other open pints. Slowly, he spoons out a small ball of a light, golden ice cream with streaks of what look like honey or caramel in it. He repeats the motion, letting it fall over my left breast.
“This is your apology for all the times you wouldn’t let me carry a box of coffee for you.” His eyes trace the melting gelato again until it pools with the coffee one between my breasts.
This time, he drops his head to my breasts, kissing each one, flicking his tongue over my hardened buds before he licks at the melting ice cream.
I arch my back into him and he grabs my hips, holding me still against the counter.
The way his strong, calloused hands fit around my hips only builds my need for his touch, for friction.
“That’s so fucking good, but not perfect yet.”
He takes the spoon to the last pint he pulled out and starts again. When he has a spoonful, he licks it and shakes his head.
“Fucking cinnamon.”
I really don’t know what his deal is with cinnamon tonight and I still don’t care. He takes that spoonful and drops the ball of what I assume is cinnamon right under my collarbone. It slowly works it’s way down my exposed chest and melts into the others.
He kisses his way down my neck and over my breasts. I’m so ready for him and I just want all of him.
“Sutton. I need more. Please.” I breathe out, but he just keeps teasing me—licking, kissing, and nipping down my stomach.
Each tauntingly slow kiss makes me want more until his lips reach the combined pool of all three melting flavors that’s now halfway down my stomach.
He licks that melted dessert and I swear he moans.
“That’s perfection.” His eyes flit up to mine. “You want to know how your apology tastes?”
“If it means you’ll stop teasing me, yes. Please.”
He grins and licks at the melted gelato until there is none left on my stomach. Then he brings his lips to mine and I get all of the flavors.
Coffee. Cinnamon. Honey. Vanilla.
All of them working together and it’s delicious. It reminds me that he is a master at what he does.
I lick the last melted drop off my lips. “Were you planning on making me into your own personal ice cream sundae tonight?”
He lets out a low laugh. “Don’t tempt me.”
I give him a confused look, only half interested in this conversation because I want his attention solely on me. “Why do you have all of these flavors? Some of those aren’t even on the menu.”
He leans down and kisses my neck again. I feel his breath under my ear.
“Because they’re you. Honey, coffee, cinnamon.
That’s your scent, that’s what your lips tasted like.
It’s haunted me for years but I never figured out the damn cinnamon from your coffee.
I’ve tried to sort that out the only way I know how—by making food. ”
He places his hands on either side of me, propping himself up while he looms over me. I look up at him and I do not know what to do with the revelation that he’s been that fixated on me for so long.
He doesn’t say anything and instead drops his head back to my collarbone, kissing his way down my body. I reach out and grab the bulge in his jeans, so ready for him to give me what I want.
“Stop teasing me and do something already. You had your dessert.”
“No, I haven’t.” He grins and shakes his head. “And there’s no way I’m doing that. It’s been a while and if my cock even grazes your sweet pussy, I won’t last.”
His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties and he slowly slips them down my legs and over my boots. Instead of setting them aside, he sticks them in his back pocket. “Are you saving those for later?”
“Yeah. I’m saving them in case you ghost me again, but I think we know that’s not happening.” I’m so wet that I don’t care. They’re probably ruined anyways.
His eyes drop to the apex of my thighs and his tongue darts out. He hungrily licks his lips. “Fuck me,” he rasps.
He swipes a finger over my soaking wet pussy, just barely parting my lips. His eyes meet mine when he takes that finger and sucks it clean. With the dim red glow of the neon light behind him, he looks sinfully delicious.
“As good as my dessert was, nothing compares to this.” He licks his finger again and lets out a hungry groan. “This is the only flavor I haven’t been able to have for two years and it was the only one I wanted. This is the one I’ve obsessed over. I haven’t tasted anyone else because I needed this.”
“You mean you haven’t—”
“That’s why I can’t fuck you right now,” he cuts me off. “If I’m going to fuck you again, I want to make sure I’m going to last.”
That timeline sinks in and I feel my core get even wetter. “You haven’t been with anyone since…”
He shakes his head. “My cock hasn’t been inside a pussy in two years. So I think I can wait a little bit longer. Now please, let me fucking have my meal.”
He hasn’t been with anyone else for that long?
I know I’ve gone on dates, but I also haven’t been with anyone else since then.
Knowing that he hasn’t either feels like it means something—like it means more.
I don’t have to think about what it means though because he drops to his knees and wastes no time.
The sudden sensation of his mouth on me makes my head fly up just in time to watch him lap his tongue up my slit.
“Fuck, it’s better than I remember.”
He doesn’t say anything else as his tongue swirls over my opening before traveling north to my aching, swollen clit.
He said he wouldn’t last long, but I don’t think I’m going to either. His hands run up my thighs and he pulls my legs open more.
I loop my ankles over his shoulders and pull him into me further. He groans against my clit, opening his mouth wider. That talented tongue spears my entrance and I moan.
“Yes, please give me more.” I grab his hair with one hand, lacing my fingers through his dark locks.
His tongue flattens over my clit and swirls around it.
I’m sure if I could see his tongue, it would look like he’s lapping at that spoonful of gelato again.
The feeling of two of his strong fingers firmly plunging into my pussy brings me back solidly to the man feasting on me.
His tongue swirls and flicks at my clit while he rhythmically pumps and curls those fingers on my g-spot.
In seconds, years of tension builds up low in my stomach and threatens to ignite. No—not threatens, that knot of tension is going to ignite.
He’s going to set me on fire with pleasure. The only thing keeping me from coming right now is that lingering, nagging thought that I could have had this sooner. It doesn’t matter though because his tongue works faster over my clit and the only thing running through my mind right now is need.
My whole body is overwhelmed with sensation. Hot and cold. Soft and firm touches. My mind can’t decide what to enjoy, but it’s all so good.
He must know it because he looks up at me from between my legs. “You’re going to come for me, on my face, Shadow? I can feel your tight cunt gripping my fingers already.”
“Yes, Chef.” His eyes blaze when I say that and he increases the pressure with his tongue. “Oh, yes. Just like that.”
I guess I’m taking everything back tonight because fuck me, I’m never going to be able to eat ice cream or gelato again without moaning or getting turned on. His fingers curl into me and his tongue swipes at my clit one more time and I come undone.
Wave after wave of pleasure wracks my body.
He moans and his fingers dig into my hips.
My thighs squeeze his head between my legs and I feel his stubble scrape against my flushed skin.
His tongue keeps flicking over my clit, faster and more erratically squeezing out a second orgasm I wasn’t expecting.
He grunts and his tongue stops moving. “You taste so fucking amazing when you come.”
He stands up and looks down at me. I can see my own wetness glistening in his stubble and it makes him look even more enticing.
He runs the backs of his fingers over my heated thighs and his eyes soften.
“I want to take care of you.” I tighten my legs around his waist and pull him toward me.
He laughs, but shakes his head. That denial makes the self-conscious bitch in me rear her ugly head.
“Come on. Please?” I reach for the fly of his jeans and thank god he doesn’t stop me. “I want to make you feel good. You’ve waited so long.”
He gives me a sheepish, weak smile. “You already did, Shadow. That was more than enough for me.”
“Don’t tell me you need a little breather again.”
“Not exactly.” He laughs before his eyes drop and mine follow. I look at his pants and I run my hand over the bulge. That’s when I feel it. His cock has to be painfully hard, but his jeans are wet.
My eyes fly up to his. “You… came?”
He nods and that self-conscious bitch dies and I don’t think I’ll ever be hearing from her again.