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Chapter five
Cornucopia of Cock
Georgie
I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to look at a wine bottle the same. Or a cucumber. Or Pringles, for that matter.
Honestly, I was so flabbergasted by the prospect of fitting his dick in me that I didn’t care or even realize that I basically admitted I was planning to—or hoping to, at least—have sex with him.
So, while I normally would never begin a date with such a blatant declaration, I find that now, as we cook together in my kitchen, I feel a sense of relief. The metaphorical ice has already been broken.
Potentially along with his nose. He insists it’s not, but two black circles rim his eyes from when I kneed him in the face yesterday.
“Are you sure I can’t offer you an ice pack or something? I feel terrible.” He looks up from the cutting board he’s using to chop basil when I ask.
“If you insist on doing something . . .” He walks around the counter to where I’m standing by the stove turning off the burner. Putting his hands on my hips, he suggests with a playful smirk, “You can kiss it better.”
“You’re awfully cheeky,” I tease and lift on my toes to kiss his nose. But he raises up as well and my lips land on his.
He hums at the contact, and I feel myself unconsciously leaning into him, my body drawn to his. I love the way his hands slither from my hips to cup my full arse to tug me closer, and my soft, plush body melts into his tall, lean frame.
Our lips meld, and I moan into his when he grinds his pelvis against me. He murmurs in response, “Yeah, you like that? You like feelin’ what you do to me?”
“I do,” I admit. “But—”
“It’ll fit, baby. Trust me, we just gotta work you up to it, stretch that little twat until you’re ready for my meat stick.”
I am shocked speechless. Twat? Meat stick?? If he’s trying to defuse the tension with bonkers euphemisms . . . it might be working.
I’m instantly less intimidated and laugh. “Meat stick? More like anaconda.”
He grins. “You trying to charm this snake, baby?” I bury my face in his chest with a mix of embarrassment and laughter.
He runs his hands down my arms and says, “Now, pop on up here and let me show you the wonders of a woman’s body.” He steps back and pats the counter, pushing the cutting board away.
“You’re going to show me?”
“Yeah, baby, I’ll get you so wet, it will be a Slip ‘N Slide.” He cocks his head, nodding to the counter again.
He gives me a wide berth as I hop onto the counter. After nearly knocking him out last time, I don’t blame him. Once I’m settled, he steps between my legs. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as he runs his hands up my thighs.
His fingers tease the hem of my skirt. “Will you invite me into your secret garden of wonders, m’lady—”
“Alfie.” I slap his chest.
“Is that a yes?” He gives me a crooked smile, and I can’t help but swoon. Everything he does, no matter how silly, makes me feel like a schoolgirl doodling hearts around our names.
“Yes, it is a yes.” I laugh.
The mood immediately shifts to something hot and brooding when his searing palms glide up my thighs to the seam of my underwear. His green eyes meet mine with a spark. His desire is so palpable, it makes me confident in a way I’ve never felt before.
“Take them off, Alfie.”
His gaze sinks to a new level of hunger at my order. It's a heady rush.
He pulls down my panties at the same time he lowers to his knees. “Now, I’m going to eat this pussy until you’re dripping down my chin. I want to look like I just got off Splash Mountain, you hear me?”
I giggle slightly and nod. He spreads my knees farther and his head dips between my thighs. It’s hard to feel self-conscious when he’s so utterly ridiculous and so utterly into me. Who knew the trick to becoming more confident in the bedroom—er, uh, the kitchen—was to laugh more.
