Chapter 8 #2
Stefan exhaled loudly. “I'm having no part in this.” And he left, heading back to his spot on the island.
I took another healthy sip and set my drink down. Then I spotted a bowl beside the stove. My stomach growled. I needed more soup. A few buns sat there, too, on a baking sheet.
I used the discarded ladle and filled the bowl nearly full. Then I buttered a bun and dipped it in.
“Take it outside and sit down,” Stefan said as he chopped up fruit.
I shook my head. “No time.” I blew on the dripping bun and managed to bite it before it fell to its doom. I ate like that for a few minutes before the urgency left me and I realized what I must look like.
I grabbed a dishcloth and wiped my hands, and face before I turned to Stefan. “Sorry,” I said, picking up the bowl of soup and carrying it over to him. “I don't normally eat like I'm in a barn.” My cheeks warmed as his eyes took me in.
“You haven't eaten in days, Francesca. I understand.” He went back to his chopping. “I was considering tossing the plates away and buying a trough, though.”
That caught me off-guard, and I had to put the bowl on the counter because I was at risk of dropping it from laughing so hard. I leaned against Stefan and ran my hand over his back. “As long as you hose me down after, I'm okay with it.”
Now he was laughing. He dropped the knife on the wooden cutting board and snatched me up instead.
I shrieked as he set me on the island. “I'm going to do a lot more than hose you down, Chesca.” His lips touched mine, and again he tasted like coffee. But also cantaloupe. And Stefan.
“You like cantaloupe,” I muttered into his hungry mouth.
He smiled. “I love cantaloupe. And I love you.” He stepped between my legs, pulling me closer to his body.
Stefan picked up a small piece of cantaloupe and rubbed it over my lips—and then he kissed me.
He did it again, but this time he slid the cantaloupe into my mouth.
I chewed and swallowed it appreciatively.
Stefan watched in what looked like fascination as I chewed and swallowed appreciatively.
He kissed me again, rougher this time. And I loved it. I felt his hands on the zipper at the back of my dress. It didn’t take him long to unzip it and pull the straps over my arms.
The dress had an insert—so there was no need to wear a bra. Stefan’s eyes looked down at my breasts, and he shook his head. “How do you keep getting more beautiful?” His gaze snapped to mine.
He pulled the straps of my sundress further down my arms. Then he did something so unexpected—I swear I nearly orgasmed right here on the island.
Stefan picked up another piece of cantaloupe—and he rubbed it on my nipple. I gasped at the cold, slippery feel of it. And then—Stefan's warm mouth was there, licking and sucking the juice off. “Stefan,” I moaned while he did the same thing to my other breast.
And it felt equally as incredible. He trailed the fruit up my neck—and slowly dragged his tongue up to that one spot that always drove me crazy. We made out like that—me, Stefan—and the cantaloupe—for a long while. And I enjoyed every second of it.
Finally, he popped the cantaloupe into his mouth and said, “Lay back, Chesca. I need to taste you.” The hunger in his eyes caused me to clench deep, deep, deep down inside. The marble countertop was cool on my now overheated back as I lay down. But I didn't mind. Not one bit.
Nope.
Stefan's hands lifted my dress up, up—and up. Until he encountered my panties. His fingers pulled them to the side, and then—
He rubbed the cantaloupe over my exposed flesh. “Stefan,” I groaned, my eyelids fluttering closed until—“Oh, my gosh.” His warm mouth was—on me.
Right there.
On me.
Licking.
And sucking.
And moaning. “Fuck, you taste so good. So fuckin' good, Chesca.”
I opened my eyes to see Stefan—eating me. Very, very, very enthusiastically. My hands dove into his hair, holding him to me, ensuring he wouldn't stop.
No.
I needed him to keep going.
I needed—him.
Stefan.
“Oh, yes,” I cried as his tongue circled that bundle of nerves only he knew what to do with.
I was close.
So, so, so close.
That was when I felt Stefan's finger tease at my opening. And miraculously—it didn't hurt. Not at all.
Nope.
Instead, it felt freaking—great.
Heavenly.
Divine.
“Yes, Stefan. Please. Don't stop,” I begged him. I needed more.
So—
He gave it to me.
The second his finger slid inside me—and curved up—
I came.
Hard.
I held onto his head tighter now, pulling him closer. Making sure he didn't stop.
Because I knew if he stopped—I would die. Right here on this counter.
But he didn't stop. He didn't even try. In fact, he did the exact opposite. His tongue circled faster.
His mouth sucked harder.
And his finger—oh, my gosh.
His finger.
My legs shook as he drew every last perfect spasm from my body.
Until each muscle gave up, and my hands slipped from his head.
Exhausted.
Stefan slowly—lazily—kissed my thighs. It felt so good.
When I could finally speak again, I said, “You really like cantaloupe.”
Stefan chuckled and pulled me up to sitting. My bare chest felt good against his shirt. But I knew it would feel better against his bare chest. So, I kissed him and began unbuttoning his shirt.
“I do. And now I think you've unlocked a new kink, Francesca.” His lips grinned against mine.
“A new kink?” I asked and continued unbuttoning his shirt. “How many do you have?”
A low, smexy laugh followed. “You'll find out.”
And something inside me couldn't wait for that. When the last button was undone, I let my hands rub his bare skin. Then—my hands slipped down to his belt buckle.
“Francesca.” He kissed me as his hands found my breasts. “What are you doing?” His fingers squeezed me.
“I don't know.” I shrugged and smiled. Oddly, that was the truth. I really didn't know what I was doing. Or how far I wanted to take this.
All I knew at that moment was I needed to feel him.
I needed my hands on Stefan.
Now.
His thumbs swiped over my nipples, sending wonderful shocks through the rest of my body. I unzipped him—and shoved his pants down.
His cock bounced out and I slid my hand around it. “You're so hard.” I stroked him. “And so soft.” And he was. His velvety skin felt so nice in my palm.
The more I stroked him, the more he panted as we kissed. I took my cues from his reaction and moved my hand faster.
And faster.
Weirdly, the more worked up Stefan got—the more worked up I also became.
The ache between my legs got worse. But not in a bad way.
In a very, very good way.
So—I moved him toward that ache.
“Fuck,” he said as I rubbed the head of his throbbing cock in my wetness. I hadn't even realized how wet I'd become until now.
“Francesca. You're driving me crazy. I'm going to come if you keep doing that,” he said it like a warning. But I liked it. A lot.
I wanted to push him. I wanted him to come.
I moved him lower.
And then lower. Until he was right at my entrance.
And it didn't hurt.
A little more—
And I was still okay.
“Francesca. I don't want to hurt you,” he said in such a sincere tone it made my heart burst.
A little more—and still—no pain.
“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his breathing fast. “We don't have to if you don't want to.”
And that was when I knew—I wanted to.
“Yes. Give it to me.”
He took my lips and kissed me.
Hard.
Then—instead of giving me his cock inch by inch like he'd done on our wedding night—he thrust himself right in. All at once.
“Ah!” I shouted when he was fully seated inside me. I felt so—full.
Yes, there was some discomfort. But not any real pain. Certainly not like before.
“You okay?” He exhaled sharply.
My hands slid to his back, and I held on. “Yeah,” I said. And surprisingly—I meant it.
“Good. Tell me if it hurts. And I'll stop.” He kissed me briefly before he started moving.
And it felt—good.
Really good.
But he was moving far too slowly.
I wasn't sure why I did it, but I lay back on the counter again.
“Fuck me,” Stefan said, his hands landing on my hips, and he pulled me roughly to him.
And then he—fucked me.
That was the only way to describe what he was doing. The animalistic look in his gaze told me how different this time was. One hand wandered up and cupped my breast. His other hand landed between my legs. And that wonderful thumb started rubbing in tantalizing circles.
It took about ten seconds before I was ready to explode.
I felt my walls squeezing around him tighter and tighter.
And I knew he felt it too because he said, “So fuckin' tight. You are so,” he thrust into me, “fuckin'” another thrust, “tight.” A few drops of sweat trickled down his forehead, but he didn't stop what he was doing to wipe them away.
No.
He kept up his fantastic pace, bringing me higher and higher. His fingers pinched my nipple, and I clenched—intensifying what he was doing to my clit.
I gave in. I couldn't take it anymore. “Yes, Stefan. Just like that.” My head rolled from one side to the other as I cried out.
Stefan thrust into me a few more times before he stopped and wheezed. “Christ.” His hand squeezed my breast as he emptied himself inside me. He leaned over and took my lips with his. “I'm definitely developing new kinks because of you.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I wrapped my arms around his torso and kissed him. “Does that mean you have a new appreciation for cantaloupe? Or does it mean something else?”
He gave me a smirk and said, “Yes.” Which wasn't an answer at all. I still laughed and loved how he was letting me kiss him as deeply as I wanted.
It wasn't long before I started grinding against him—asking.
Making a silent request.
“Are you sure?” he asked between kisses.
I nodded. “I'm sure.” I lifted my hips, seeking more pressure against his body.
He grabbed my legs and said, “You're not too sore?”
Again, I shook my head. “Not sore at all. Can you do it again? Or do we have to wait for a while?” I asked, hoping like heck he wouldn't have to wait too long.
He laughed and kissed my neck in that special spot. “I'm not that old, Francesca.”
And then he set about showing me exactly how old he wasn't.