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It’s soft and smells like him, and I won’t deny loving the woodsy scent surrounding as I stand here.
“I’m hungry, Solimar.” Alejandro places the knife down, pushing the cutting board with chopped tomatoes and a whole onion aside, and turns to face me. The grin on his face should be illegal, and I lean my hip on the counter for support. “Are you?”
“Famished.” I take in a deep breath and his heated stare follows the rise and fall of my chest. Christ, if he touches me now, I’ll beg. “What are you making? Do you need any help?”
“Something you’ll like, and no.” Alejandro takes a step closer and we’re chest to chest, his hands finding purchase on my hips. Grip firm, his fingers hold me in place while his face lowers to mine. Mouth hovering. “All I want is for you to take a seat and watch. Nothing more.”
Without conscious thought, I lick my lips and he groans. “Where do you want me?”
“Innocently coquettish.” A peck is all I get before I’m being lifted and placed to sit atop the countertop. A cold countertop that makes me hiss on contact and for his brow to raise. “Is there something you want to show me?” At his question, I blush. The heat sweeps across my skin, and I shake my head. “Don’t be shy, Preciosa. Are you wearing anything beneath?”
“No,” I whisper, and his salacious grin tells me he heard. His hands leave my hips and travel lower to the top of my thighs where he steps between them and squeezes—higher and higher, pushing the soft cotton up until the top of my bare mound is exposed. “Alejandro—”
“Fuck, beautiful.” Those large hands clench, and I shiver. I’m near panting as I silently beg him to touch me. To take what I so willingly give. “What you do to me.” His fingers skim a little higher and pause right over the top of my clit. So close. “You’re a temptation I crave. My destruction and salvation.”
“Please.”
“Please what?” A featherlight touch over the hood and then lower to my entrance. Not entering, but caressing. “Tell me.”
“Touch me,” I whimper and then blush for a completely different reason as my stomach suddenly growls from hunger. It’s loud, and I’m embarrassed; the fevered spell we’ve been under is broken.
Alejandro pulls back, chuckling as his eyes come up to meet mine after my plea. “So, I guess it’ll be food first.”
“No.” It’s a whine, and my lips pout when my hunger makes its presence known again.
“Behave.” The rebuttal sits on my tongue. I don’t want to stop, but he shakes his head before I can. Instead, I’m given a pointed look and a soft caress across my thighs as he fixes my shirt and covers my neediness. “Let me feed you, and I promise to eat that pretty little pussy afterward.”
My core clenches at his words. “I’m not that hungry.”
“Is that the truth or a lie?”
“Maybe.”
His shoulders shake with silent laughter. “You’re adorable.” He’s not laughing at me, nor does he seem upset that I killed the mood, so to speak, by needing sustenance. If anything, the boyish amusement on his face shows he’s okay and his hardness now pressed against my thigh tells me I’ll be enjoying him later. “All right, Miss Quintero. I cook, and you watch.”
“Can I help with anything? Speed things along.”
“You can sit and look pretty…” at my mock glare, he leans forward and gives my bottom lip a quick bite “…or pick something to listen to.”
“Where’s your radio?”
“One sec.” Alejandro turns from me and walks over to the counter on the opposite end of his kitchen. There’s a large portable device there that I recognize from our kitchen at the presidential home; a portal that controls most smart functions, and his cell phone. Picking up the latter, he brings it over and places it beside my right hip. “Here you go. Play whatever you want.”
“You sure?” That’s a dangerous offer for two reasons: his phone could contain things he doesn’t want me to see, and two, I know just the song to pay him back for leaving me hanging.
“Go for it.” No hesitation or concern. He pecks my lips a final time and steps back into cooking mode. Still hard and throbbing, his cock flexes beneath the confines of his pants, and I have to look away or I’ll pounce.
A truth that smacks me in the face once again.
With him, I lose all control. My inhibitions are without regret.
“Get it together,” I mutter low, but he hears something and clears his throat.
“You said something, Sol?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
