Chapter Thirteen
He grinned as he grabbed her, upending her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, her ass in the air, her face in the small of his back, her loose hair dragging down the backs of his thighs.
“Kyle,” she half squeaked, half laughed as she held on tight. “What are you doing?”
He took five strides and lowered her into a sitting position on the edge of the dining table. “Lay back.”
Val’s belly clenched at the sexual promise in those two deceptively simple words. Heat flared at the juncture of her thighs. She flicked her glance sideways to the piping bag in his hand. “Why?”
He grinned again and applied gentle pressure on her shoulder until the cool glass met the bony prominence of her shoulder blades and the back of her head. The metal of the nozzle clinked on the table as Kyle set the bag down to push her legs apart and step between them. The table was just the right height to make the position very interesting.
His hands smoothed up her thighs, taking the fabric of his shirt with them until the pale blue lace of her underwear was exposed to his gaze. Val’s breath hitched as he stared at the lace like he wanted to rip it off with his teeth.
“We should be getting ready to go,” she said, trying to be the responsible adult. But her voice was hoarse, and the muscles in her ass and belly melted like marshmallow beneath the fiery heat of his gaze.
He ripped then, pulling the tails of the shirt apart in one quick movement. She gasped as the buttons flew in every direction, pinging off walls and furniture and clattering onto the wooden floorboards. “That’s better,” he muttered, his gaze zeroing in on her bared breasts.
She moaned at that look, she couldn’t help it. In fact, she barely suppressed a very primal urge to arch her back. But Kyle wasn’t done with her yet. Her underwear was next, also suffering the same fate. He tore first one side, then the other, and yanked the offending scrap of lace away, tossing it over his shoulder.
“Oh yessss.” His hiss of satisfaction as his gaze took in her full nudity fanned the flames between her legs. “Much better.” He picked up the piping bag, brandishing it as he stared at her, the message in his eyes loud and clear.
She was about to get sticky.
“Now…” He leaned forward slightly, the nozzle hovering over her nipple. “You were saying?”
Val squirmed as the nozzle came closer, resigning herself to the fate of being a human cupcake. She was pretty sure it was a position that was going to work out well for her.
“Steady hands, squeeze the bag with one, direct the nozzle with the other. Rotate your wrist.”
The icing was warm as it oozed onto her nipple, but it might as well have been an ice cube for the way the pale pink flesh scrunched into a taut, tight peak. Her back arched involuntarily, and a hiss of air escaped her lungs as a haze of lust clouded her vision. She was so freaking turned on.
He pulled back to admire his handiwork and cocked an eyebrow. “Like that?”
Val glanced down her body at the rainbow swirl of icing covering her right nipple. Her left nipple was puckered to a point in anticipation. “Not bad for a beginner.”
“You’re right.” He grinned. “I need more practise.”
He shifted to her left nipple and repeated the process. She moaned this time. She couldn’t help it. “Kyle.”
“Look at that…” His tone was light, teasing. “I’m already better.”
Val was too far gone for any kind of critique. “You’ll be an expert before you know it,” she confirmed as the icing, warm and gooey against her, soothed the two aching points of her nipples.
“You know…” His brow crinkled in faux concentration. “I haven’t even tasted it yet.”
Val curled her fists by her sides. “You should probably do that.” Her voice shook, betraying her eagerness to have his mouth on her.
“Right? I mean… It looks really pretty, but that can be deceptive.”
Val’s mouth watered in anticipation as she suddenly wondered what his cock would taste like covered in rosettes of sweet rainbow icing. Placing the piping bag down, he planted a hand on either side of her shoulders and slowly lowered his mouth to a nipple.
“Mmmm.” He didn’t lift his lips, the noise coming from the back of his throat somewhere, buzzing against her skin as his tongue flicked lazily back and forth. “So good,” he muttered before sucking hard.
Val cried out and arched her back, her hands coming up to his head. Involuntarily, her fingers tangled in his hair. His tongue trekked across to the other nipple, and he sucked it harder, groaning in appreciation.
He was exceedingly thorough in his removal of every trace. By the time he was done, she was moaning and arching, a string of insensible syllables falling from her lips.
“Okay…” He eased up, her hands falling to her sides as he gazed at her. She lifted her head and looked, too. Her nipples were pink and wet, shiny from the icing and the work of his tongue. “It tastes really good. But I think”—he picked up the piping bag again—“you need some here.”
He moved the nozzle directly above her belly button and squeezed out a rosette. “Damn! I am getting better.” Then he dropped his head and sucked the icing off, his tongue swirling around and around and dipping in to her navel, taking his time to savour every last trace. Val’s abs tightened at the stroke of his tongue, but they were soon melting, oozing into submission the longer he licked.
He pulled away again, and Val was gratified to see lust glittering in his tawny eyes. “Now…” He cocked an eyebrow. “Where next?”
The ache between her legs became a roar as her imagination went haywire, and she had to grind her hips into the table to stop from shamelessly lifting them in offering.
His gaze drifted from her navel to the trimmed red curls between her legs, then back to her face. “There?”
Val tired to suppress the whimper that pressed at the back of her throat. She failed. He smiled a thoroughly dirty, knowing smile.
“You sure are pretty enough there already, but I’m starting to think there can never be enough rosettes in the world.”
Val couldn’t agree more. Hell, she was going to get that tattooed on her ass. She panted as anticipation tightened her buttocks against the table top. “That’s what I always say.”
He shot her a wicked smile that weakened her knees—it was just as well she was horizontal.
He slid one hand under the back of her right thigh. “Bend your knees up, baby. Put your heels on the edge. Let me lay some sugar on you.”
Val’s breathing was thick as soup in her lungs, her legs and loins heavy with desire as she did his bidding, splaying herself wide for him. It was utterly debauched. It was broad daylight and they were about to go to a two-year-old’s birthday party, but Val didn’t care.
She felt sexy and wanton and thoroughly desired.
“Oh yes, baby.” His breath was half hiss, half sigh as he feasted his eyes. “Just like that.”
And then he went to work, his shoulders pushing her knees wider as he bent to the task, the aromas of sugar and vanilla drowning out the smell of her arousal. She shivered, and goose bumps fanned over her belly and down her thighs as his brow furrowed in concentration, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips as he applied himself to the job like Leonardo Da freaking Vinci.
Val clenched and unclenched her hands as sensations of warmth and stickiness kissed the sensitive flesh between her legs. Her breath caught in her chest, and she could feel the slickness of her need building. It was only a minute, but by the time he straightened her body was throbbing with desire.
“There now…” He gazed at his handiwork like he was some celebrated chef who’d just created a masterpiece. She lifted her head and looked, too. The rainbow swirls totally obliterated her mons and the fine red hair between her legs.
If the man didn’t end up in a diabetic coma after this she’d be amazed, but the way he was looking at her and the dull flush of his cheeks told her he’d die happy.
“Man, that’s way too beautiful to eat.”
Val’s gaze flew to his face, her pulse spiking in alarm. Was he freaking serious? If he didn’t get his face down there pronto, she was going yank on his ears and drag him there herself. She was damned if she was going to go all coy and pretend she didn’t want his mouth on her—licking her, tasting her, making her come—after he’d turned her on like a light bulb.
He chuckled, and she realised she’d let out some kind of feral, outraged whimper. “Don’t worry, baby.” He stroked her thigh in a comforting gesture. “I’m going to lick off every last rosette. I’ll be very thorough. I promise.”
Then he slid his hands onto the table, one on each side of her bent thighs, and lowered his head.
The first swipe of his tongue was like an electric cattle prod, and she cried out at the intensity of it, her head thunking back hard against the glass as her neck lost the ability to hold it upright. The second almost rolled her eyes back in her head. The third had her twisting her fingers so hard in his hair she’d be surprised if he had any left by the time he was through.
Because he was taking his time.
Kyle had said he was going to be thorough, and he hadn’t lied, as Val moaned and writhed and panted through the most comprehensive oral she’d ever had. Kyle was already a master at giving head, but this was some freaky-porn-wizard tongue action, repeatedly taking her to the edge and backing off until all she was capable of was dragging air into her lungs and drooling.
But suddenly, as he built her up again, the muscles in her ass tightening as little daggers of pleasure pricked at the base of her spine, it wasn’t enough. She didn’t want to be hovering somewhere outside her body in some lady party for one. She wanted him with her. To be connected to him in the most intimate, elemental way possible.
To have him looming over her, face-to-face, his biceps moving beneath her palms, his cock deep and hard inside her. She wanted to watch him fall apart, to clock the second his orgasm hit and ecstasy contorted his features. And she wanted him to see that same moment in her.
Every tug on her heartstrings, every wispy dream, every waking thought had been consumed by this man since that first night, and she’d made cupcakes and was going to meet his family, and she wanted him to be in this moment with her.
No just creating it. Participating in it.
She wanted him inside her in the worst way.
Val gasped as his tongue eased its intensity off her clit, sliding lower to tease and stoke some more. “Kyle.” It came out on a low pant, which he didn’t appear to hear, and she tried again. “Kyle.”
He lifted his head. A smear of icing on his nose was the only trace left of his handiwork. He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m a little busy, down here.” Then he turned his head to nuzzle her inner thigh.
“I want you inside me.”
He grinned. “Like this?” His right shoulder moved and suddenly there was the prod and the slide of something hard. A finger. Then another. Val moaned, her head falling back against the table again. The plunge of his fingers was good—really good—but still not enough.
“Fuck.” His breath was hot on her inner thigh as he kissed her there and murmured. “You’re so wet.” His words vibrated against her skin and buzzed all the way to her clit.
She moaned, her head rolling from side to side on the table. “No. Your cock. I need it.”
It was true. She did need it. More than air, more than water, more than living one more minute.
“Later, baby.” He grinned at her despite the way she’d twisted her hands in his hair. “Can’t you see I’m eating?”
He lowered his head again. But Val was desperate. Blindly, unreasonably, insatiably desperate. For the feel of his cock parting her, rocking her, driving her into oblivion. Something reckless had her under its control, her heart beating to the drum of something almost feral.
It was more wildling than voodoo at the moment.
She yanked on his head and glared at his amused face framed by her thighs. “Now.”
He shook his head. “Condoms are in the bedroom, and I’m not moving from between these thighs until the neighbours know I’m a legend in the bedroom as well as the rugby field.”
Val was pretty sure they knew that already, but that was neither here nor there. “You can pull out.” Having sex without a condom was not something she’d ever done before, but why not? She’d been intimate with him long enough to know he didn’t have any diseases, and if he withdrew, then pregnancy wasn’t an issue.
Or at least she was prepared to risk it for the sake of her cravings.
He blinked. “What?” He was obviously startled by the request, but there was a glitter in his eyes that told her he wanted it as much as she did.
“Fuck me.”
His fingers dug into the flesh at the tops of her thighs as the hard ridge of his dick pressed into her. “Bare? You want me bare? Are you sure?”
She wanted this man now. Any way she could get him. “Yes. I’m sure. I want your big, beautiful, bare cock inside me.”
He stared at her like she might have lost her mind for a moment. Like he wanted to, but was worried she might suffer a bad case of remorse once their ardour had cooled.
Val lay waiting, her breathing heavy, her body screaming for his. “Do you need me to draw a picture?”
He grinned at her then, his mind obviously made up. “Hell fucking no.”
He’d yanked the front of his shorts and his underwear down in the blink of an eye, and Val just caught a flash of his taut girth before she felt it thick and real and oh-so-good sliding through all her slickness and notching at her entrance. She moaned at the feel of it and gasped as he thrust inside her, her back almost arching right off the table from the thick stab of his possession.
Yes. God, yes.
“Fuuuuck.” His hands bit into the flesh of her thighs, and his head rolled back a little, his eyes closing briefly on a low groan. “You feel incredible. So hot. So tight.”
“Kyle.” She reached for him, and he leaned into her a little, her hands sliding up his arms, her palms wrapped around the meat of his biceps. “Hard. Fuck me hard.”
And he did, her head rocking, her breasts shifting with each snap of his hips, his pubic bone grinding so damn good against the tight knot of her clit.
“Harder?”
“Yes.” She gasped as he slammed into her. “Give me everything.” She wanted it all.
He was magnificent, looming over her fully clothed, while she lay in nothing but the ruins of his shirt. His jaw clenched tight, his biceps bunching hard beneath her hands, his gaze fixed on hers. He was all raw, male power, his fingers biting into her hips, the veins at the sides of his neck pulsing and prominent, and it was enough to push her over the edge.
Val lost her breath as muscles deep and low started to quiver. Her arms and thighs began to tremble. Her nipples peaked. “Oh god,” she whispered, gripping his arms hard, her heart fibrillating against her rib cage, her lungs grabbing for air.
“Christ, yesss.” Kyle’s hiss was triumphant. “I can feel you.”
She could feel herself, too, the sudden clamp of her internal muscles as everything went impossibly tight for one second, two, then went loose in an eruption of pleasure that stole her breath. Val shook her head from side to side, her eyes widening as it ripped through her body like a shock wave, forking up her spine like lightning and bowing her back.
Kyle didn’t miss a beat, though, fucking her through the contortions of her orgasm, her body his to control as he hammered inside her. “Jesus. You’re so…damn…tight.”
And he was so damn big. Every thrust the most delicious invasion, stretching her, filling her, completing her. Prolonging the pleasure until she thought she might just die from it before it started to twist and ebb and loose her from its grip.
Until he groaned, deep and low, his fingers biting harder.
“Jeeeesus.” His voice was rough as sandpaper, stiffening her nipples to diamond points. “You’re making me come.”
Val moaned, dizzy with the pleasure that still echoed through tissues and sizzled in cells and the kind of feminine power only affirmed when a man is hard and helpless between a woman’s legs.
He thrust twice more, then pulled out on a strangled groan, one hand still gripping her hip, the other fisted around the slick, hard length of his cock, pumping up and down the length of it, his hips rocking forward with each tug.
Val lifted her head off the table to watch, mesmerised by it. Mesmerised by the way he touched himself, by the firmness of his grip, the whiteness of his knuckles, the deep purple blush of his domed cock head and the slackness of his mouth as he watched himself.
He came on a shout, thrusting into his hand one last time, his hips jerking to a halt as the first jet of ejaculate shot from him. His hand moved again, stroking over and over, splattering her breasts and ribs and belly in his warm, musky seed, until there was nothing more to give and his hand slowed to a stop.
Val had never seen anything more male in her entire life.
His gaze wandered up her body, and she was gratified to see his eyes were still a little glazed over when they met hers. “I wonder if you know just how sexy you look right now.”
Val gave a half laugh. Sexy? Her head thunked back against the table at the thought. “I must look a bloody wreck, in a torn shirt covered in cupcake icing and come.”
He shook his head as he eased his hand off his dick and tucked it back in his shorts. His tawny eyes never left hers, glittering with what looked very much like possession.
“My shirt. My icing. My come. Is it wrong to admit how hot it is knowing I’m the one who wrecked you?”
Val’s heart turned over in her chest. Now that was pretty damn hot. “No.” If any man was going to wreck her, she’d choose him.
Always.
His hand slid from her hip and sought hers, intertwining their fingers and bringing their joined hands to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles before running his gaze over her again. “You’re going to need a shower. You’re kinda…sticky.”
Val looked down at herself. “You think?”
“Or I could just tie you to this table and keep you like this forever.”
His nostrils flared as he spoke, and there was a part of Val that practically sat up and begged at that prospect. “I think they might miss me at the bakery.”
He sighed. “No more Chelsea buns would be a tragedy.” Then he tugged on her arm and pulled her up into a sitting position, claiming her mouth in a deep, lingering kiss as he drew the edges of his shirt together across her chest. “Go.”
He stepped back, out of the bracket of her thighs, and Val’s heart did a funny little giddy-up at how reluctantly he did so.
She knew exactly how he felt.