She nods and points to the canister of white powder near the stove. "Yeah, a heap. The recipe said to use a whole cup. Too sweet?"
"Not at all." The canister she'd pointed to was salt. It was labeled, but obviously not well enough, and now, my tongue has shriveled to the size of a raisin.
I move on to the custard. Yep. Salty as hell. Also, the milk must have been too hot when she combined the ingredients, and the result is lumpy scrambled eggs with random crunchy bits.
I'm aware she's watching for my reaction. I ignore the taste and texture of what's in my mouth and conjure up how it feels to be inside her. She must buy the resulting moan of pleasure, because without warning, she drops to her knees and rips open my jeans.
"Uh, Cassie?" I say, my mouth full.
She doesn't answer. I've barely had time to swallow the melanoma strudel with congealed egg before she's licking me in a way that makes it almost impossible to stand.
Oh, dear God.
As grateful as I am for oral attention at any time, Cassie's timing couldn't be better. If she's concentrating on me, she's given up forcing me to eat any more of her food.
Saved!
I throw the bowl in the sink and lean against the bench as she goes to work. I don't even care that I break the bowl. Pretty sure all of the dishes will be ruined anyway. Sauce pans, too. I hear plutonium has a half-life of fifty years. Cassie's food will still be toxic way after that.
Warm lips close around me, and I hiss out a breath as I watch her.
Okay, idiot, stop thinking about her food and look at what the hell she's doing to you.
Fuuuck, she drives me insane. Seeing her put her mouth on me is one of the greatest joys of my life. The sensation alone is knee-buckling, but witnessing the woman I love taking such care to please me? It blows my mind. No matter how often she does it, I'll never see it as anything but miraculous.
I pull her hair back from her face, so I can see better. Then I tug all the strands back into a ponytail at the base of her head, and wrap it around my hand. I know she enjoys some light hair pulling, but I mainly do it so I can concentrate on something other than how she's dragging me to orgasm way too fast. When she closes her fingers around me and adds firm, slow strokes to what she's doing with her lips and tongue, I look at the ceiling and clench my jaw.
No, not yet, Holt. You're not a teenager. Calm the fuck down.
I take long, measured breaths, in and out.
Damn her and her magical mouth.
For the three years we were apart, I thought I'd developed impotence. Turns out I just wasn't attracted to women who weren't her. On the few occasions I tried to be with someone else, my dick refused to cooperate. He knew what we wanted.
I glance down at her, cheeks hollowing and then filling, eyes closed, moans of satisfaction vibrating on her tongue.
That is what we wanted. What we still want. Just her. Forever and always.
I'm seized by the urgent need to please her, so I pull her to her feet, pick her up, and carry her out to the dining room. She'd set the table with a wreath thing that had tinsel and candles. It looks great, and I appreciated the effort, but right now it's just in the way. It crashes into the wall as I sweep it with my arm.
"That wasn't expensive, was it?" I ask, and perch her ass on the edge of the table.
She winds her fingers in my hair. "Yes, but who cares? Kiss me."
She wraps her legs around my waist as I kiss her deeply, and when I lower her back onto the table and lay my weight against her, she moans.
I pull her arms away from me and press them against the sides of the table. "Grab the edge." She does as she's told then stares at me with hooded eyes while I slide off her underwear and spread her knees. "Don't move. Time for the main course."
I sit on a chair in front of her and wrap my hands around her thighs. Then I lean in to taste her.
Jesus. This is what I should have had on my tongue since I arrived home. Always delicious. Always perfect. Very little preparation time necessary. She arches and moans as I lick and kiss, and when I close my mouth over her and suck in earnest, I hear the distinct sound of her nails scraping the underside of the table.
"Ohhhh, God ... Ethaaaan."
When she moans my name like that, I feel like a god.
I increase my pace while adding the extra stimulation of my fingers. That takes her to the edge so many times, she eventually lets go of the table and grips my hair, so I can't move away any more.
"Ethan, please ..."
I love it when she begs. Not sure what that says about me, but I can't help it. There's no denying my body's reaction. My dick is rock hard and aching, and I'm so turned on I almost trip over my own feet as I yank off my jeans.
Cassie watches me and tugs on the ties of her apron to remove it. I pull her up and unclasp her bra before pulling it off and throwing it across the room.
"Ethan –"
"I know."