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“Evan …” August’s voice is a warning, but the jut of her hips back into me is a green light.
“Do you want me to touch you again? You want me inside you again?” The fantasy of taking her in my kitchen is too heady; I’m nearly dizzy with the need to do it.
“Yes.” Her breathy confirmation is all I need.
There is no thought in our next actions. August turns to face me, and I pick her up. Spinning, I plant her ass on the counter as my hands dive into her hair, and then we’re kissing. Our mouths fuse, the craving not nearly extinguished. My tongue seeks hers, lapping at it furiously as if it were between her thighs instead. She gyrates her hips, pleasure sending shivers through both of us as we struggle for the upper hand.
She wants this to be her idea, her outlet for relief once more. But I want to be the one to take care of her, and we’re warring over who is going to win this battle.
“Fuck me. Now,” August commands, biting at my bottom lip.
Jesus Christ, if that isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
We’re not taking our time, and we’re not exploring. This is pure, raw fucking, a need for an escape that must be hard and fast. She wants to forget for a while, and I want to give her whatever she wants. No one else knows exactly what is happening in her life, no one except for me, and I relish the fact that I can be the only one to give her what she desires right now.
Without another second to make sure that she’s sure, I pull both of her shoes off. Unbutton her pants. Pull them and her underwear over her hips and down her legs as she pushes up on the palms of her hands to help wriggle them off her. I grab the condom out of my wallet as she pulls her shirt over her head, those perky breasts filling a turquoise lace bra like it was made just for them. Just for me.
The second I push my pants down, and my cock springs free, I sheath myself and line up at her entrance. I can smell how wet with arousal she is, and my balls ache with the knowledge.
Our eyes collide for a split-second, and then I push in to the hilt.
“Yes!” she cries out, throwing all that beautiful hair back.
I grip it in one fist, keeping her neck exposed so I can suck on it as I pump in and out of her. My cock hits every groove inside her pussy, the tight heat of her nearly unbearable as pleasure funnels down my spine at a rapid rate.
“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” I whisper as my teeth sink into the lobe of her ear.
“Ah!” she moans loudly, bucking her hips at every thrust.
She’s meeting my pelvis as I bottom out inside her, our rhythm completely in sync and perfect.
A lot of people might be surprised at this, but I’ve never had sex in one of my kitchens. You’d think as a chef, and with the whole work fantasy, that at some point, I’d taken a girl back there or had a fling with one of my coworkers. But no. Sure, I’ve heard about plenty of chefs who have done it, but it never felt right to me.
This? Being here with August, waiting for it to be her in my kitchen, the one that will solely be mine for so many years to come, is what feels right. This is the only time, with the only person, I ever want to do this. Sure, it’s a hot, fast fuck, but it means more to me, even if it doesn’t to her right now.
Every day I walk in here, from this moment on, I’ll see August spread out on this counter for me, the most beautiful sight I’ve ever beheld. A five-course delicacy prepared just for me.
“I’m so close.” She whimpers, sweat trickling down my clothed back from how hard I’m snapping my hips inside her.
My fingers splay over one hip, her nails digging into my ass, as I bring the other hand to her cheek. Leveling her eyes to mine, I watch as lust fills them over and over.
“Come for me. Come on my cock,” I tell her, knowing she needs the words.
“Oh, God!” Her wail is a battle cry, the orgasm rattling her bones as her pussy grips me so hard I see stars.
Her climax triggers mine, the pulse of electricity to my tip making me roar as I shoot into the condom. We ride it out together, nonsensical words and moans filling the air.
By the time I can finally breathe again, it’s labored and shallow. I’m wrapped in August, the back of her neck damp with sweat while my balls grow sticky with her release.
Best sex of my entire life.
“You want that ice cream, now?” I joke, my voice throaty and hoarse.
August chuckles a bit. “Honestly, I think that did the trick.”
I pull out of her, hating the loss of contact, and grab us some napkins to clean up. I’ll have to scrub that counter again, but damn, it’s well worth it.
She might not hold my hand as we close up or let me open her car door, but at least she doesn’t run out on me this time when I take her home. And she doesn’t object when I pull her in the direction of my bedroom for round two. My plan to fuck her to sleep works, as August passes out in my arms after our second round.
