Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
No reservations. “Yes.”
In one blink, one ragged breath, I was whirled around. My hands found the stainless steel before Kane’s palms were on my hips, pulling them back, lifting my ass upward. He kicked at my ankles to spread my legs then hurriedly dragged down my pants. I stepped out of them automatically, feeling euphoric at being naked. In my kitchen.
Kane had one hand on my hip, holding me in place as I heard the telltale crinkle of foil.
His palm found my pussy, circling my clit so my knees buckled.
Then his finger was gone. His cock was there. Filling me. To the brim.
I opened my mouth to cry out, despite knowing people were within yelling distance.
Kane’s palm covered my mouth, muffling my scream.
Clean enough so I could see Kane’s distorted reflection in the surface, I stared at the stainless steel as he pounded into me.
“You’re the boss in here, Chef,” he grunted in my ear as he fucked me. “Got me so fucking hard, seeing you command this kitchen.”
My body coiled, ready to come in seconds as him bending to whisper in my ear changed the angle, getting him deeper.
“I like to know that you’re the boss here, and that you’ll think of me taking you.” He reached around to find my clit. “Want you to plate every dish and remember this.” He found the perfect spot, and I exploded.
My teeth bit into his palm on reflex as I hurtled into the abyss.
He continued pumping, grunting in pain or a release of his own—I didn’t know, I was too far gone.
By the time he stopped, I was ready to collapse against the counter.
Covered in sweat, I was gasping so heavily, my breath was fogging up the surface.
Kane’s lips latched on to my neck, kissing me there, licking at the perspiration.
I shivered in delight.
Carefully, with the utmost gentleness, he pulled out of me. Still, I whimpered.
He held on to me, bracing me as he, presumably, took care of the condom then buttoned his jeans.
“Step in, Chef,” he said quietly.
I looked back to where he was crouched, at my ankles, holding my pants and panties, ready to put them on for me.
“I can do it,” I protested, even though my limbs were lead.
“You can,” he agreed. “But let me.”
I relented without a fight, stepping into my pants and panties before letting him pull them up. After pulling my body upright, he put on my shirt again, buttoning with steady, tattooed fingers.
I watched, still trying to catch my breath.
One of those fingers went under my chin, tilting it upward.
His ice-blue gaze smoldered with intensity.
“Chef, that was indescribable,” he murmured before he gently laid his lips on mine. “I’ll wipe down the counters, ensure you don’t get a health violation. Then you’re gonna come home with me.”
Even though this was my kitchen and I called the shots, all I did was say, “’Kay.”
Five
We were back at Kane’s borrowed brownstone. After having sex in my kitchen. Something wild and irresponsible … two words no one would use to describe me. I didn’t feel guilt or shame over the act, even though I thought I would. I took my work seriously, my kitchen seriously. It was like my church in some ways. Yet it wasn’t sacrilege to do what I did with Kane
Especially when he worshipped me.
Once he was done cleaning up our ‘mess’—not that there was any visible evidence of what had taken place beyond some palm marks—he walked me to his bike, which he’d somehow found a parking spot for in the alley that adjoined our kitchen, where the dumpsters were.
I didn’t ask him how he parked it there. Didn’t ask any questions, actually. I just got on the back of his bike.
This time, we didn’t have sex in the entryway, though I stared at the rug, ornate and very expensive looking. Again, no evidence of what had taken place on it last night, but my cheeks warmed at the memory.
“You eat?” Kane asked, smirking as his eyes followed mine.
I contemplated the question, unable to orientate myself between his sexual innuendos, unyielding carnal desires and then questions about my basic needs.
He toyed with strands of my hair that had escaped my tight bun after riding on the back of his bike. “You spent your entire night cooking for other people, cooking for me. After seeing you move in that kitchen, I’m going to assume you didn’t feed yourself.”
Kane was perceptive. And it did something to me to know he’d given this some thought. Been thinking about me beyond just being someone he was having sex with. This was a nurturing energy that I didn’t expect from the daredevil who emanated sex and danger.
“I ate earlier,” I told him. Not a lie. I ate like I normally did—a snack, usually, depending on how busy it was. Maybe some protein.