AT LONG LAST, Chef Bryant backed off, lifting his head. I was still trembling under his hands, aftershocks hitting me every few seconds. My god, that’d felt good. He straightened up and let go of my legs, placing his hand on my stomach as if enjoying feeling my body vibrate underneath him.

After a long moment, he picked up the discarded tea towel and wiped his mouth. “You taste as good as your cooking,” he said, making me blush.

It felt like every muscle in my body was relaxed, and loose, and completely out of my control—but I somehow managed to twist over and prop myself up on my elbow. I reached out and trailed a finger down his hard, smooth abs. With a shy smile, I slipped my index finger under the waistband of his jeans, my thumb brushing lightly over the bulge in his jeans. “Can I see how you taste now?”

He smiled and closed his hand over mine. “That sounds wonderful, love, especially after watching you suck off that asparagus spear before. But after four hours of foreplay, I’m ready for the main course.”

He squeezed my hand and let go. Turning, he grabbed his leather jacket off a nearby stool and rummaged in the pocket. A moment later, he returned to my side, holding a condom. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I nodded at his implied question. He was definitely right about all the hours of foreplay making me want to feel him inside me. For me, it had been more like years of foreplay since I’d wanted him long before I’d even met him. “The main course sounds delicious.”

“That’s my girl,” he said as he unbuttoned his jeans. Finally!

He kicked off his shoes and stripped. I watched eagerly, shamelessly. And when at last he pushed his black boxer-briefs down, his hard cock sprang free and I gasped both at his substantial size and because he was shaved down there. Now I really wished I could take him into my mouth.

With an athletic spring, he hopped up onto the counter, arranging himself over me in a push-up position over me. I instantly wrapped my arms and legs around him, pulling him close.

His mouth met mine—his warm body hard on top of me, his lips smashing against mine. This was the most heat I’d ever felt in a kitchen and I loved it.

His lips curved into a grin against mine. “What?” I murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth.

He chuckled. “Just thinking of the headlines if we fall off and knock ourselves out.”

I laughed, too, and held him tighter. He was such a big guy—I loved feeling his weight on top of me.

After another long kiss, he shifted to his side, lying close against me. I took that opportunity to snake my hand between our bodies and grasp his hot, hard cock. It was the biggest one I’d ever seen, and the lack of hair made it seem even larger.

Stroking my hand up and down his shaft, I looked into his hazel eyes. Close up, they were even more mesmerizing. I could see flecks of gold as well as brown in them from this close distance.

He opened the condom deftly, and I let go of him, watching in fascination as he smoothed it on with one hand. Hard to believe that such a small piece of rubber could encircle such a huge cock.

“Are you ready for this, Shy Little Cheyenne?”

“Yes, Chef Bryant,” I whispered, spreading my legs, eager to feel him fill me.

But he teased me first, pushing the tip of his cock against my folds. It slid around easily—I was quite wet, plus there’d been the ice before.

I squirmed underneath him, trying to position my opening over the head of his cock. But he just grinned down at me, still making featherlight strokes up and down my slit. “My kitchen, my way, love.”

He pressed my knee up against my chest, opening me further, but he still didn’t push in. Instead, he attacked my neck with his mouth, kissing, licking, teasing.

“Please,” I moaned, needing so badly to feel him inside me.

He continued his assault on my neck, his warm lips caressing every inch. “Please what?” he murmured. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please fill me,” I moaned, my eyes closed, my fingers running through his hair.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” he said, and he took my breast in his hand, kneading it, squeezing the nipple. It felt so damn good.

“Please, I need you to fuck me,” I said, with a groan.

That seemed to get his attention. He turned his face up toward me, his eyebrow raised. “Better,” he said, rolling my nipple back and forth with the pad of his thumb. He pushed himself higher, pressing his tip against my clit. Jolts of electricity flashed through my body.

“Please,” I moaned, breathlessly. “Please fuck me.”

And he did. In one sudden movement, he plunged his hard cock into me, filling me completely as I had never been filled before. I screamed out. The feeling was incredible. I’d never felt that full in my entire life. My former boyfriends had been boys. Chef Bryant was all man.

He held himself inside me, enjoying the expression on my face. “That what you wanted?”

“Oh god yes,” I moaned.

“Good,” he said. “There’s a lot more where that came from.” He pulled back, slipping out of me, then thrust all the way in again. I cried out again—it felt every bit as good as the first time.

He began thrusting in earnest, each stroke making my body shake, my breasts bounce, my eyes roll back in my head. Within seconds, I was panting, trying to keep up, trying to survive the onslaught of delicious sensations.

It felt so damn good. I supposed that it would have felt good with any man as well-endowed and as obviously skillful as he was. But a big part of the reason it felt so amazing was because of who he was—a man I’d admired for years, a man I’d wanted for years. And now he was here, inside me, filling me, wanting me too.

He changed his rhythm every time I got used to it, sometimes making slow, long strokes, other times thrusting hard and fast. Now, he bent his head and bit my neck, making me cry out with pleasure again. “Grab onto me, love,” he whispered.

I did as ordered, and he shifted, pulling me off the counter. For a scary moment, I felt like I was going to fall, but he held me tight and twisted underneath me. Seconds later, I was on top of him staring down at his ripped arms and chest. He really was strong. Seems like most men would have accidentally dumped us over the side trying that move.

His cock was still inside me, but it had slipped out a few inches as I’d ended up further up on his chest. Now he pushed at my shoulders, clearly wanting me to sit up and set the pace. But I hesitated, still hugging his chest.

“Come on, love. Ride my cock.”

I hesitated. “I’ve—I’ve never …”

“Shy Little Cheyenne’s never been on top?” he said, with a chuckle. “Just follow your instincts. I trust you with any piece of meat in this kitchen.” He punctuated this thought with a thrust of his hips that made me moan. But I was still apprehensive.

Cautiously, I pushed myself upright, his cock feeling even bigger in this position. I carefully shifted my legs, trying to get my knees in a comfortable position around his hips. I gave an experimental wiggle and felt him twitch deep inside me.

“That’s it, love. You’re not nearly as shy as you think you are.”

I looked at him in surprise, and he winked. “Look around you,” he said, and I did, my eyes scanning the stove, the gleaming countertops, the spices, the ingredients. “This room, the kitchen … you’re in your element. This is where you can make magic. You’ve got the talent, the skill, and the creativity. All you lack is the confidence to trust your instincts.”

I stared down at him, hanging on every word he said.

“But I trust your instincts. I’ve seen them in action, tonight and before. I trust them, and you should too.” He grasped my waist, squeezing me, his fingers digging into my ass. He lifted me up a few inches and set me down again. “So get going. You know what you need to do, so do it.”

I started to move. I was cautious at first, trying to get a feel for the angle, for my range of motion. The last thing I wanted to do was twist the wrong way and hurt him. His hands stayed on my hips, but they were only there for the ride. I was the one in control.

By the time I got into a rhythm that felt comfortable, I’d relaxed enough to enjoy the sensation of how completely he filled me this way. I moaned and closed my eyes, letting my head fall back.

“No,” he said, accenting the word with a sharp pinch of my nipple. “Keep your eyes open. Look around you. This is where you belong. This is where you are most alive. This is where you can be all that you were meant to be.”

I nodded. As I lifted myself up and down, reveling in how good it felt, I knew he was right. This was my world. This was where I belonged. And when this amazing night was over, I was going to find a way to get my own kitchen. To be the one in control. To be able to say my kitchen, my way.

“That’s it, love. Just like that,” he said. His hands landed on my hips again, steadying me, but not guiding me. The time for that had passed. I was in charge, and it felt powerful. Amazingly powerful.

His hazel eyes were open wide, staring intently at me, so I brought my hands to my breasts, cupping them, lifting them, squeezing them. He groaned and his cock swelled inside of me, stretching me even further. Emboldened, I rode him harder, pinching my nipples, pretending my hands were his.

“Faster, love,” he panted, and he pushed a finger between us, finding my clit. He managed to maintain contact as I bounced up and down, riding him harder, pushing us both toward the brink.

Faster, harder. I leaned forward a few inches, and his cock hit a new spot inside me. Up, down. I tugged at my nipples, feeling proud when his round eyes got even wider, watching me hungrily. Deeper, harder. We moved together, racing toward a shared climax.

His finger dug into my clit, pressing, rubbing, flicking, and a wave crested over me. I arched my back, screaming out. A second later, his hips bucked under me, his hands clamping down on me. Holding me there, he spasmed inside me as I clenched around him. The sensation was too much yet just right at the same time. It felt like it went on forever, us locked together, me screaming, him growling with pleasure.

At last, he released my hips and I collapsed on his chest, both of us panting too hard to speak. I felt his softening cock slip out of me, but his arms wrapped around me before I could mourn the loss.

I rested my face against the smooth, hard chest that was rising and falling underneath me. He stroked my hair and my back gently.

In his arms, it was easy to relax and relish the moment. To feel his ripped body under mine. To feel his strong arms around me. It felt damn near perfect.

I hoped I’d never forget the way it felt to be in his arms.