The kitchen is heating up and once he leaves for the morning I peel off my chef jacket. I am down to just a cotton tank top with my best bra underneath, just in case he comes home hungry.
“Its smells amazing in here!” I don’t hear him come in at first.
Bent over the sink washing dishes, my hair frizzes around my face with the damp humidity.
“You’re early!” I rise with a start.
“I couldn’t wait…really. I have to tell you something.”
I smile and turning around, I wipe my bangs off my forehead with the back of my wet hand. He looks down to notice what I am wearing and a grin of recognition lights his face.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t get any work done.”
“You too?” I hardly get the words out.
He presses my back against the countertop. He’s so fast. Yanking up my tank top he squeezes my lace-covered breasts with both hands kissing them madly. In an instant his fingers find the clasp to release my bra and the straps slide down my shoulders.
Mouth clamped over mine, his throat emits a low grown as he moves his hands urgently inside the waistband of my chef pants. He wants to take me straight away, but I push him back.
I pull his polo shirt over his head.
Undoing his khakis, I slip my warm hand inside. His rigid sex is overheated and I register the immediacy of his need.
“You don’t have to…”
He tries to stop me, but I slide down to the kitchen floor on my knees and take him in my mouth right there, dishes be damned.
He sighs and grasps my head in his hands, falling back against the countertop for support.
I taste the sweet, young fruit of his flesh and it’s better than I imagined. I want to finish him now, but he pulls me back up and kisses me again…pushing down my pants and underwear in one swift movement. Trailing hungry kisses down my belly, he lowers his mouth finally between my parted thighs. His movements are suddenly tender–graceful under the urgency of our desire.
The kitchen seems to vibrate with our energy. With the mechanical whir of the refrigerator fan as our background music, we are intent now, only on satisfying our hunger. But not for food.
He rises again and we stumble, attached at the lips, across the kitchen to a nearby chair. Sweeping me up by my hips, he guides me down, pressing his heat against mine. He slides in easily—and the sensation is so delicious, that for an instant, I don’t want to move. I want to stay right here, savoring the feeling of complete and utter pleasure from the flush contact of our bodies.
I raise my hips gently and bring them down again, at the precise angle of my pleasure. He groans his approval through clenched teeth—in a futile attempt to calm his building release.
His mouth searches for my breast and his lips clamp hard, against first one then the other–washing my excitement with an ardent tongue.
He guides me, with strong hands, fingers embedded in my flesh as we rock together, entranced with pleasure.
He pulls back –abruptly. I am flushed and stunned by his sudden act—but crazed with desire and up for anything.
“To the guest room,” he pants, under his breath.
To be continued…