Sweet Cravings (5 page)

I slammed the door and hightailed to the bathroom to freshen up. Inside, I checked myself out in the mirror. No push-up bra on.
Check
. No makeup on.
Check
. Hair a disaster.
Check
. I rolled my eyes at my reflection and picked up the mascara. Had to start somewhere.

His voice echoed down the hall, but I couldn’t make out what he was hollering. He sounded pained. He’d have to wait. I had my own troubles to contend with at the moment.

I cracked the door and yelled in a most unladylike manner. “Help yourself to a beer in the fridge. I’ll be right out.”

More grumbling.

Hell
. I grabbed the hair brush and gave my mop a quick once-over. In seconds it was swept up in a ponytail, and I was mostly done. Just had to rifle through the bedroom to find the appropriate bra…. I stuck my head out the door and almost collided with his chest and shoulders that pretty much took up the whole doorframe. Blinking, I focused on his face. His lips were moving, and he was shuffling from foot to foot, wearing a pained expression.

“Can I please use the bathroom now?”

Oh
! My cheeks heated as I exited, and he rushed inside and slammed the door behind him. In seconds I heard the sound of his relief. My brain immediately went there—picturing his hand on that wicked, long, curved shaft. A few seconds passed before I realized he’d soon be flushing and I’d still be standing in the hallway drooling like an idiot. I ran for the bedroom and hit the underwear drawer.

When I later emerged wearing an entirely new outfit, I found Max leaning against the kitchen counter with beer in hand looking sorta thoughtful. I almost hung back, wanting to study him, find out who this man really was when nobody was looking. Maybe figure out if he really saw anything worthwhile in…me.

But he must have heard me come down the hall because he glanced up and our gazes met. A shiver ran down my spine. Even fully dressed, and sans the sugar coating, he inspired desire in me. Not many men did that—and certainly not this consistently. I checked his hands to be sure. No, they held no cream puffs. The attraction was all about him. My stomach did a flip-flop and my brain told it to suck it up.

I took a step closer, and he took two. We met in the center of my lime-green-and-navy kitchen throw rug. I sucked in a breath and nodded toward the bags. “Why aren’t you at the hotel?”

His gaze roamed down my shirt, parked itself on my breasts temporarily, skidded over my thighs, and finally came up to meet mine. “I promised you dinner.” He licked his lips in a most inviting way.

Language took a back seat. I squinched up my lips and tried to think of something intelligent to say, but the scent of his sweat and the warmth coming off him had me wanting warm manflesh in my hands and no smart words would come. I froze, unable, though not unwilling to reach out and fulfill my desire in case he really was only offering food. I couldn’t fathom being lucky enough to find a man who wanted a third helping of me. My empty hands closed as he vanquished the distance between us and set his beer on the counter.

“You hungry, sweetheart?” His hot gaze left a trail on my skin and heated through more than one layer of fabric. The innuendo in his voice was unmistakable. He tucked a stray hair behind my ear with a super-warm finger whose touch promised tingling satisfaction. I held my breath and nodded. “For what?” he whispered.

I wanted to whimper. Wanted to melt right there on my kitchen floor. I’m good at bravado—up to a certain point—but being interrogated, even by a hottie, or especially by a hottie, turns me shy real quick. And Max’s stare-right-through-me intensity made me very shy, very quick. Made it hard to say that one little word…the one I so badly wanted to say:
You
. I opened my mouth but he’d started talking again.

“You see, I know all about hungers. About appetites.” He circled me slowly. Like a tiger using its steamy breath to tenderize its next meal. “And how to satisfy them.”

Maybe so. But surely I must come off as a rather odd case? I mean, I practically raped a pastry chef at a chamber of commerce event! Was there even help for people like me? Concern and embarrassment had me chewing my lower lip. I wanted badly to look away from his gaze—look anywhere but into his chocolate-drizzled eyes. But as if he could read my thoughts, he placed a finger under my chin and held me captive with that simple touch.

“All people have appetites,” he stated. “Your appetites, I know how to feed.” He smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I will enjoy feeding them. If you will let me.”

I tried to hide a gulp. He sounded sincere. But how could it be? No man had ever made me such an outrageous offer. I had half a mind to put up a hand and stop him right there. But wasn’t this what I truly wanted? Or would I rather stay within the safe bounds of the pastry goal lines forever and watch my waistband expand? Alone? God. I could hear my mother’s voice….
You’ll never get married with those eating habits, Violet. No man will ever want you. Besides, bigger women can’t get pregnant very easily
.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he said, “Even if you think some of your hungers are bad…or wrong.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of my nose. “I assure you they are not. They are perfectly normal.” His arm slid around my back and pulled me close, hip to hip. My sex clenched in anticipation. “All of them.”

I gasped as his erection pressed against my rapidly heating mound. Being this close to him drove spikes of excitement up and down my core, from my pussy to my brain, making me too stupid to talk. I was glad he kept going.

“It would give me great pleasure to satisfy your every craving.” He sent me a serious, no-nonsense look that could have made him a damn fine lawyer. “
All of them
.”

All of them? What was he asking me? To let go and…show him all my dirty little secrets? All my kinky and desperate needs? Food and otherwise? The ones no man had ever bothered to satisfy before? I shot him a glance, sucked in a breath, and bit my lip.

He nodded, as if saying yes.
Yes. Yes, yes
, and
yes
.

A sense of relief flooded me at his words and my muscles untightened as the truth sank in. He wanted to fulfill all of them. Every last need. Every which way my fiendish little mind could imagine to connect, to explore, with another. He’d be there. He’d take it all. Or would he? The shadow of a doubt crossed my mind, and I checked out his eyes searching for the answer.

He smiled as he touched his lips to mine, and I knew. Yes, he had a healthy appetite, too, and it wasn’t just food he craved. His tongue swept into my mouth and my body electrified. I kissed him back with as much urgency as I knew how to put into a kiss, grasped handfuls of his arms and shoulders, and moaned.

He pressed me backward until my ass hit the counter as he took the kiss deeper, devouring my mouth. I slipped my hands under his shirt, greedy for skin-to-skin contact, and roamed every bit of flesh I could reach. Our lips glided against each other’s at a pace matching our raspy breaths. Down below, I ached to draw him inside me. “Too many clothes,” I panted out.

I pushed against his chest until he backed far enough away so my fingers could work the buttons on the chef’s jacket. Once the fabric was out of the way, I ran my hands underneath his tank top and shoved it up and over his head until he stood exposed before me. My eyes feasted on his brawny chest with the dusky pink nipples begging to be sucked, then lower as my hands stroked down his stocky frame and delved beneath his waistband to clutch the smooth globes of his ass. My appetite aroused, I felt brazen. I wanted more. “Back,” I said, guiding his hips so he backed flush against the wall.

He smiled as he watched my face. I knew my eyes must look hungry and crazed, but if he wanted to see every one of my appetites in their full glory, he’d better get used to it, I decided. It wasn’t as though he was stopping me either.

At the wall, he pulled me to him with his strong arms and kissed me, then softened his grip and let me take control again. I loved how he handed it back to me without hesitation—this impossibly big man wasn’t afraid to let me have it at all. My eyes closed remembering the cream-filling flavor as I kissed down his chest, licked over a nipple, and then pinched and sucked it until he moaned, and his hand pressed my mouth closer.

Though I loved I could turn him on this way, I moved lower, licking down the trail of dark hair descending from his chest as I kneeled, unbuttoning his pants so I could shove them down. Silk boxers, not briefs, I noted with interest, and immediately pushed them out of the way in my quest for his glory. When the full length of him sprang free, my mouth sang hallelujah. I wrapped my lips around the swollen head and sucked.

Down below, his cell phone rang in his pocket. Nobody made a move to grab it.

One of his big paws landed on the side of my head, guiding me to take more of him, while his other hand closed around the base of his cock and held it steady, offering a better angle toward my mouth. I appreciated his thoughtfulness and dug my fingers into his ass to press his hips forward as a thank-you. His cock advanced until it hit the back of my throat. I laid my cheek against his right thigh, enjoying the slight scratchiness of leg hair and the warmth of his skin against mine.

His sharp intake of air had me smiling so wide in satisfaction I had to focus to keep suction. I used my hands to rock his hips toward me, forward and back, letting him relax and enjoy while I kept the pace. His fingers grasped my hair as my lips caressed his firm, wet cock. As if in a dream, I could hear him talking, warning me, saying he was going to come, but I didn’t stop. I wanted this to happen. Wanted, needed to know I could make him lose control as easily as he could make me. Greedy for his moans of rapture, I snuggled my face into his thigh, urged his hips closer, and swallowed the moment his cock bumped the back of my throat

His legs spread apart, muscles squeezing as his hips jutted out, plunging his swollen penis down my throat. I could feel the tension shoot from his thighs to tighten his balls seconds before his rapid pants gave way to a carnal cry. He doubled over, body clenching, one hand clawing at the wall and the other at the back of his head. I continued to suck and lick and lavish while his shouts settled to raw, moaning pants and his body shook through the last of his spasms because I was just having too much fun to stop. But eventually he eased me away and down onto the lime-green-and-navy rug in the middle of my kitchen floor.

“Now it’s my turn.”

I smiled and surrendered as his weight pressed down on me, giving him total control over my body. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time, and I didn’t really mind the fact I was giving my trust to a man I hardly knew. Somehow, I doubted the man with hands that could whip eggs into ambrosia was a stark-raving killer. Call me crazy, but as his fingers pushed my shirt over my head and then my pants and undies down, I laid there and simply wanted. Wanted him. Trusted him.

He picked up my calorie-laden hips as though they weighed nothing and raised both my feet to his shoulders. Oh this was too good to be true. When his mouth met my clit, I curled my fingers into the rug and screamed. A few licks and he had my legs shaking. A few more and I wantonly pressed my sex against his tongue and moaned his name. God, I needed this. A no-holds-barred complete earth-shattering orgasm hit me a moment later. The world blurred into nothingness for long, long seconds afterward. I was pretty sure I’d never need cream puffs again.

In a daze, I felt him lower my hips, but keep my legs around his waist. I glanced up at this arrangement and heartily approved. The angle of penetration was good, but even better, we both got to engage in mutual nipple fondling until we were breathless and panting. Under my touch his cock grew firmer and lengthened, his thrusts became firmer and faster. Finally, he gripped my hip with one hand so he could barrel in deeper and gripped my breast harder with the other.

The increased pressure elicited a moan of both pain and pleasure from me, and I pinched his juicy nipples harder in retribution. His nostrils flared and he arched his back, his total surrender to pleasure obvious. The sight pulsed adrenaline and heat through my core, and my limbs went heavy as lead.

On his next drive, I thought he’d fill me to overflowing and I cried out, my inner walls clenching. I floated in those delicious seconds before an imminent, mind-blowing orgasm. He thrust again, and the head of his cock bumped the entrance to my womb. The pressure unwound the tight coil of tension inside me. We both gazed hungrily into each other’s eyes like there could be no greater thrill—except maybe doing this slathered in whipped cream and chocolate sauce—and screamed each other’s names. We exploded in unison, right there on my kitchen floor.

When he collapsed on top of me, a sweaty mess of hunky man, I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled him tight. Yes, he weighed a ton. Yes, crumbs were digging into my butt and spiders were probably tiptoeing through my hair, but I was happy. Happier than I’d been in a long time. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been missing.
Farscape
definitely did not come close.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Starving!”

He laughed and helped me up, and even brushed off my sticky buns. We ate dinner naked, standing in the kitchen, beers in hand, until he unwrapped the chocolate torte, and then we just
had
to make our way to the bedroom. Where, after another three hours of chocolate-enhanced lovemaking, we drifted off into sleep, satisfied and exhausted.

***

When I woke up in the morning, he was gone. Vanished like a cloud of powdered sugar after a cupcake-baking contest. The note on the kitchen counter stated, “Had to go, Max.” Not
see you later, Max
. Not,
I’ll call you this evening, Max
. Not…. Never mind. I got the picture.

I stood there staring at the empty kitchen wondering what I’d done wrong as my heart sank in my chest. He could have said something to let me know he’d changed his mind about spending time with me. Saturday mornings were always my sleep-late, stay-in-pj’s, and eat-breakfast-in-bed times. I had hoped to share my laziness with him. But, I considered sadly, as a lump the size of a hard-boiled egg slid down my throat, maybe he hadn’t wanted to share it with me.
Maybe it was just the sex he wanted. Was he just exchanging pastries for sex
? To top off my misery, the phone rang, and I answered without checking the caller ID.