Daniel started his dinner service with a green salad topped with pears, cranberries and walnuts and tossed with a spiced pear vinaigrette. This was followed by a creamy leek bisque before he served the main course of perfectly cooked maple-glazed steelhead accompanied by a butternut squash risotto flavored with white wine and Parmesan, roasted and caramelized Brussels sprouts, and sweet potato latkes topped with a dollop of sour cream.
They sat together in her formal dining room, the table spread with the bounty he had prepared for her, and talked and flirted and laughed over the exquisitely-prepared food and more of the delicious Pinot Grigio.
The anticipation between them was thick enough to slice and dice with one of his many knives, but at the same time, Margaret felt utterly comfortable in his presence. There was just something about him that made her feel like she'd known him for years. And I can't wait to get to know him even better.
Afterwards, Margaret helped clean up.
Daniel protested, but she was just as stubborn as he was, and eventually, he yielded enough to allow her to load the dishwasher and put away the spices and seasonings. But he insisted on doing the hand washing while she dried and put away the pots and pans in their proper places. Finally, he scrubbed away all the spills and splashes from her stovetop, and wiped down and disinfected all of the counters.
"You don't have to do all that," she protested, trying to wrestle the spray bottle of kitchen cleaner away from him.
He held her off easily with his uninjured arm, and distracted her by bending to nibble her ear, which sent interesting tingles shooting down her spine.
"First thing you learn in a restaurant kitchen," he said, his breath tickling her hair. "Is that the meal service isn't complete until the kitchen is spotless."
"That was some of the best food I've ever eaten," she told him with complete honesty. "I can see why all of those food critics gushed about your restaurant."
She was charmed to see a flush rising up from the rounded neck of his t-shirt. "You know that most of those restaurant reviews are just marketing bullshit, right? Free advertising."
"And probably right on the money, at least some of the time." Margaret shook her head. "I think you're probably being way too modest, Daniel. They don't give Michelin stars to just any chef."
"I don't know how that happened. I'm just some dude who enjoys cooking his mémère's recipes at his cousin's restaurant." He made an inarticulate sound of embarrassment, his flush darkening, then cleared his throat. "Anyhow, I wanted to let you know that we're not quite done...if you have room for dessert, that is."
"There's always room for dessert," Margaret stated definitively.
"Have I mentioned how much I like your attitude, Mrs. Swanson?" purred Daniel.
She hugged him from behind, careful of his bruises and cracked ribs. "Have I mentioned how sexy I find a man who can cook for me, Mr. Langlais?"
For the finale of his spectacular meal, Daniel prepared a sinfully rich dark chocolate fondue flavored with orange liqueur. He brought it to the table in her great-grandmother's soup tureen, along with two small glasses of sweet port and a large plate of sliced fruit, pound cake fingers, and shortbread cookies from the Cinnamon + Sugar box.
"Come here," he said, seating himself and opening his arms invitingly. "Indulge my fantasy of having your luscious ass planted on my lap while I feed you dessert."
Chapter Seventeen - Dessert
"You say the sweetest things." Margaret didn't have to be asked twice.
She settled herself on his hard thighs, a little gingerly at first, until he chuckled and pulled her close. "You're not going to break me, woman."
Then he reached for a ripe strawberry, dipped it in the smooth, rich-looking fondue, and lifted it to her lips.
Margaret closed her eyes in bliss at the contrast between the slight acidity of the strawberry and the thick, creamy-sweet chocolate.
Even better, Daniel drew her face down and kissed away the chocolate smears from her lips after each item he fed her.
Each bite was followed by a sip of the port, until she wanted to moan with the sheer sensual pleasure of it.
She knew he was enjoying this dessert as much as she was, if the rock-hard bulge pressing against the side of her thigh was any indication.
"My turn," she insisted, reached for one of the almond shortbread cookies.
Margaret dipped it in the thick, warm chocolate mixture, then began to tease him with it, brushing the cookie against his lips, then sensuously licking the chocolate from them. Their tongues met and caressed.
Daniel made her simmering arousal hit the boiling stage when he insisted on sucking the chocolate from her fingers, one by one, with his extremely talented mouth.
Her mind hazed with sheer desperate want, she forgot about the dessert entirely.
"Don't make me wait any longer," she begged, pressing herself against his hard body. "Please."
"I thought you'd never ask." He wrapped his arms around her and rose from the chair with effortless strength.
She clung to him as he carried her upstairs to her bedroom, kissing every part of his face and neck that she could reach.
They fell on her bed together, and spent the next few moments undressing each other with frantic urgency. He fumbled at the buttons on the front of her shirt, snarled, and simply ripped it open. Buttons flew by in blurred arcs as he pushed the shirt off her shoulders.
Her bra was the next victim, twisting through the air to land on her bedroom rug. He unzipped her jeans and yanked them down her legs before tossing them aside, along with her panties.
Then he paused, standing at the side of her bed, between her knees, and raked her with a glance so hot that Margaret was surprised that her skin didn't ignite.
"So beautiful," he said, his voice low and hoarse with desire. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about doing this with you."
"Me neither," she said, pushing herself up to a sitting position. "And you're still wearing too many clothes."
She reached for the button at the waist of his jeans as he pulled off his shirt, and pulled down the zipper. She stroked the large bulge in his tight underwear with her knuckles, and felt him shudder in response, his breath hitching.
"I want you," she said, and tugged down his briefs. That was an understatement. She was starving for Daniel's touch, for touch of his skin on hers...but she was nervous, too. It had been such a long time since the last time she'd been face to face with a naked and eager lover.
Daniel's erect cock sprang free, long and thick. Margaret cupped the stiff, flushed length between her palms and stroked upwards before bending her head and closing her lips around the hot tip. She swirled her tongue around the broad head, tasting salt and musk, and heard him groan.
"Stop," he ordered, and pushed her gently away. "I don't want to come too soon."
She smiled up at him. "We have all night. And you taste even better than chocolate."
"I had a plan." Daniel's hands clamped on her shoulders and pushed her back down on the bed. "It started with you naked, and me serving you a special appetizer."
"Better than the ones you already served me tonight?" she asked, breathlessly.
"If I do it right, then yeah." He gave her a wicked smile as he crouched over her.
What followed was a spicy tease with his lips and fingers, seasoned with his tongue, that began at her mouth and moved deliberately down her body, lingering at each place that left her gasping and panting with pleasure. He finished with his face between her thighs, his skillful tongue lapping at her like a sweet dessert as she arched and shook and rode a tidal wave of pleasure down to satisfied lassitude. The last wavelets of her climax were still pulsing through her when he slid up her body.
I want him as our mate, announced her bear as she felt the hot, blunt tip of his cock press against her most intimate flesh.
This announcement didn't come as much of a surprise, not after all of the signals that her bear had sent over the past twenty-four hou
rs.
Don't be ridiculous, she replied silently as she opened her legs and arched eagerly to welcome him inside her. We just met him.
But she couldn't deny that she felt as if she'd known Daniel Langlais for years. How else could she explain her willingness to invite him into her bed a day after meeting him?
We are not mating this man, she told her bear firmly. Dating, yes. Mating, no.
Not yet, replied her bear smugly, sending an undertow of unease to mingle with the fading ripples of pleasure.
* * *
Tasting Margaret was a hundred times better than the sweetest, richest dessert that Daniel had ever eaten. She was all creamy curves and sweet noises, and her responsiveness to his every touch and caress went straight to his head, as intoxicating as the finest French cognac.
As he moved over her, he couldn't believe his luck.
She made love in the same way that she'd eaten the meal he had prepared for her—with pure, uninhibited joy.
And even if she had wanted to, she couldn't have faked the changes to her pulse and breathing whenever he touched her, even if it was just a brush of his hand on her cheek. He discovered that he loved driving her crazy with desire, and then watching her come hard, her face flushed with pleasure and her eyes shining.
Unable to restrain himself any longer, he plunged into her, and felt her hot, wet flesh welcome him with a firm embrace as he moved against her. He growled against her throat as he went deep and hard, his skin prickling as his cat rose to the surface.
In response, she wrapped her arms and legs around him and made interesting moaning noises in-between kissing every part of him that she could reach.
Mate her, urged his cat.
Daniel's rhythm faltered as his release began to gather at the base of his spine, and every instinct screamed Yes! Do it! Do it now!
A mate of my own. That was something he'd given up hope of ever finding.
But they'd only just met, and mating was a permanent commitment.
What's wrong with that? Don't you want to spend every day and every night with Margaret? Doing this?
Yes. Yes, he did. The chemistry between them was amazing. She was amazing.
But...
You idiot, you can't just mate her without talking to her about it first. What if she doesn't want to mate you in return? Or move back to Albuquerque with you? What are you going to do then?
He groaned, his muscles shuddering. He was so close now, and it felt so fucking good to be deep inside her, her arms and legs wrapped around him and every luscious curve pressed against him, and the scent of her arousal driving his cat crazy.
Then she bit his ear, and his climax hit him like a freight train roaring down every nerve. He drove even deeper into her welcoming depths as he spent himself in white-hot pulses of mind-blowing pleasure.
He heard her gasp and cry out, and felt another climax move through her in a series of sweetly squeezing ripples.
They clung to each other, sweaty and gasping, until the last delicious pulse of pleasure faded away.
Daniel curled around her, cuddling her in his arms.
"Thank you," she said softly, surprising him. "That was...I haven't been with anyone since Ryan died. Until this afternoon, I wasn't sure if I could even still...do this." She kissed his jaw. "Was it okay for you?"
He stared down at her in shock.
"Okay?" he asked in disbelief. "It was a whole lot better than just okay. Darlin', you just about made the top of my head blow off just now."
She laughed, and the sound flowed over him like hot fudge sauce, warm and rich.
"I wasn't sure. I mean, you were perfect," she said, shyly.
"So were you," he assured her. "I want to do this with you again. A lot."
"Good," Margaret said, snuggling into his chest.
They rearranged themselves under her comforter, and Daniel luxuriated in the feeling of her soft, bare curves nestling against him.
He kissed her, stroking her rounded hip, and felt the stirrings of renewed desire. The night was young, and Chris was safely out of the house. He could take his time. Oh yeah.
If she was my mate, we could do this every night for the rest of our lives. That sounded pretty fucking awesome.
"So, tell me about Sunday dinner. Apparently, I'm supposed to attend," he murmured, letting his fingertips trail down to the small of her back and the generous curves of her sweet ass.
"You're more than welcome, of course," Margaret said, sounding faintly puzzled. "But how—?"
"I met Dane and Mark and Hannah at the bakery this afternoon. One of Hannah's customers collapsed with a medical emergency, and Dane and Mark were the EMTs who showed up when Hannah called 911."
"Well, that explains the text I received from Hannah a few hours ago." Margaret sounded amused now. "She mentioned CPR."
She turned in his arms, so that he was spooning her. He reached around to cup one of her large, soft breasts in his hand.
"We have a tradition here at the ranch, where the clan matriarch hosts a weekly family dinner. That's usually where we discuss any clan business, and where newcomers are introduced. My older sister Elle is clan matriarch, but since I'm subbing for her this week, everyone will be coming here."
"I'd be happy to help you prepare the dinner," Daniel said, immediately. "It's the least I can do, after everything you've done for me and Chris."
"That's a really generous offer, but you should know that there are going to be at least twenty people, including all of the kids," Margaret said, her tone serious. "Maybe more, considering that there's going to be a new face at the table—yours—and some of the cousins who usually skip may turn up to check you out."
"Only twenty?" Daniel chuckled and stroked his thumb across her soft nipple, enjoying how it hardened instantly under his caress. "Darlin', I don't want to boast, but that's small potatoes in the restaurant business. Especially if I can recruit you as my sous-chef."
"I'd be happy to work at your side."
He nuzzled the back of her neck, nosing aside the now-messy braid to kiss her soft nape. "So, it sounds like we're going shopping after breakfast. What's on your menu?"
Margaret shivered under his lips. "I haven't really thought about it yet. The ranch produces grass-fed beef from heirloom cattle, so maybe some kind of roast. Potatoes—everyone likes those and they're nice and filling. A vegetable of some kind. And Annabeth usually brings desserts from her bakery."
"I can work with that," Daniel said. "How would your family feel about a Creole-influenced menu? Nothing too spicy," he added, hastily.
"That would be wonderful," Margaret said, with what sounded like genuine enthusiasm. "The basement storage at Elle's house has beef, venison, elk, moose, and all kinds of fish and poultry, including ducks. We can take a look after breakfast, if you like."
"Sounds like a plan," Daniel said. "Let's get an early start, so that whatever we pick has a chance to defrost properly." He pressed another lingering kiss to her nape. "But first, I'd like to explore a second helping of dessert."
He adored the little hitch in her breath when she said, "Oh yes, please" and nestled her sweet ass firmly against his stiffening cock.
They didn't get to sleep until it was very late.
Chapter Eighteen – The Morning After
The next morning, Margaret emerged from her shower to find the twin fragrances of frying bacon and freshly-brewed coffee drifting up the stairs.
She paused, and inhaled deeply. Daniel, she thought.
Feeding her family and later, her guests, had always been her job, though Ryan had made it a point to bring her breakfast in bed whenever he was home from deployment.
Smiling, she looked at her naked body in the mirror. She felt good, relaxed and well-loved. Until Daniel had kissed her yesterday afternoon, she hadn't realized how starved she had been for romantic—no, let's be honest—sexual touch.
"I guess he didn't mind your stretch marks, after all," she murmured at her reflection. Her smil
e widened to a satisfied grin when she spotted the faint bruise of a love-bite on her left shoulder.
Daniel might be wearing a few of those marks, too, this morning. The thought made her want to purr with satisfaction.
She dressed quickly and came downstairs to find Daniel, freshly showered and dressed, standing in front of her stove, briskly whisking eggs in a large bowl as strips of bacon sizzled in her cast-iron skillet.
Shaved and wearing a long-sleeved button-down shirt with tight, comfortably-worn jeans under his chef's apron, he looked so sexy that he made her chest ache. Better than that, he looked utterly at home in her kitchen.
Ember Page 15