by Virna DePaul
What? That was the whole reason I was here. Well, the reason I should be here. I put my briefcase on the bar between us as he steps closer. “Can we turn on some lights? I have a few documents I prepared.”
“I don't want to see your documents.”
I leaf through papers and try to ignore his fingers running down my arm. “If we act quickly we should be able to mitigate the consequences.”
“I don't want to mitigate anything.” He presses against me so I can clearly feel the hard outline of his erection. I swallow and try to read the proposal I wrote up.
“An aggregated analysis of monthly sales will show that the blog –”
“Jenna, what time did you go to work this morning?”
He squeezes my neck, and I hadn't realized how tense I was. He reaches up and swiftly removes my hair tie, letting my hair fall down to my shoulders.
“Um, six this morning.”
“And what time did you leave work?” he asks softly, unzipping my dress.
I shiver. “Ah, seven.”
He pulls the top of my strapless dress even lower. His fingers knead my back.
“So, why are you still working?”
The paper falls from my grasp as my hands fall to my sides, my knees weak. Lee turns me around so I'm facing him while gratefully leaning against the bar for support. He holds my face in his hands.
“Jenna, you need to stop and enjoy life more.” He leans in so his lips just barely graze mine. His breath is cool from the whiskey and sweet from the berries. “Let go,” he whispers huskily. “Let me do the work.”
I move my head forward, but Lee pulls back the same amount, so we're still close, but still apart. Barely apart.
“Will you let go, Jenna? Just for one night?”
I try to remember how I got here. I try to remember why I am here. What was it I was going to do? I feel like I should remember. But I don't want to. I see Lee's eyes. I feel his lips linger near mine. I sense his body yearning to press against mine.
His fingers move deftly behind me and my dress pools at my feet. Lee’s breath hitches when he steps back to see me in my bra and thong and heels. And nothing more. I feel exposed, vulnerable, but it sends a thrill down my spine and I find myself liking the way Lee licks his lips greedily.
“Will you let me take you apart?” he asks as he circles around me like one circles around a fine sculpture in a museum.
Is he looking at my ass? Does he like what he sees? I feel the air move as his fingers slide just above the line of my lace thong. He walks around to the front of me.
“Will you let me take control?”
I gasp as he grips my bra in each hand and rips it straight down the center, revealing my tits and my hard nipples. He cups one breast as my legs threaten to give out. His thumb runs over my nipple and I whimper.
“Well, Jenna?” Lee lowers his mouth to my nipple and swirls his tongue around the peaked bud. “Will you let me devour you?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Take me. Please take me now.”
He crushes his lips against mine, and now I feel the heat of the whiskey. His hands skim my sides and squeeze into my waist, strong and firm. Suddenly, he lifts me up onto the bar and I lean over to avoid breaking the kiss. His teeth bite at my lower lip before kissing the side of my mouth, my cheek, down my neck.
His lips find the tender skin behind my ear and he nibbles as I wrap my legs around him. My head falls back with a moan. He drops down, dragging his nails across my whole body. I expect him to start reaching for my thong, but he doesn't. He grabs my ankles and lifts them. I let out a yelp as he twists me, so I’m on my back, laying flat out on top of the bar.
The wood is cold against my naked shoulders, but his hands are hot on my skin as he slides them down my chest and between my breasts. He walks to the end of the bar, his hands never leaving me even for a second. He puts one hand on each hip and scoots me forward, then gently lifts each of my legs and puts them on his shoulders.
His face is between my legs, and I feel his breath on my thighs. I prop myself up on my elbows to stare at him as he kisses the tender skin. He bites gently, making me gasp. He bites each hip bone before kissing right above the lacy line of my thong. My breathing quickens and my legs quiver as he uses his mouth and teeth to pull my thong down and off my legs.
I’m shaking from head to toe. I know it’s not going to take much to make me come. I could have come from Lee just circling around me, tracing his fingers over my body. At the thought of it, I reach my hand down to rub my clit, but Lee immediately catches my wrist.
“Put them above your head,” he orders.
I whimper and stretch my arms over my head. My back arches and Lee groans at the sight of my breasts pressed up into the air. I gasp when I feel something wet poured over my stomach and I lift my head to see Lee holding a bottle of whiskey. Expensive whiskey. His hot tongue laps at my stomach and I smack my head against the bar, desiring nothing more than to drag my fingers through his hair. But I grip the sides of the bar to keep my hands still as he tips the bottle over on my breasts.
I scream when he sucks at my nipples. I again lift my head to see him and he grins at me with his mouth still around my tit. He smiles devilishly before nipping at my sticky, glistening skin. I pound my heels against the side of the bar.
“So impatient,” he coos. “All your squirming is making me so hard, you have no idea.”
He palms at his very obvious erection.
“But tonight is all about you, lover,” he says. “I suppose I’ll just have to suffer through.”
Lee kisses each nipple and then moves back down the bar so that he’s positioned between my legs. I groan in anticipation as he grabs the bottle of whiskey. It’s warm against my pussy and my hips buck as he rubs it along my clit, my folds, my inner thighs.
“Goddamn,” he whispers, nothing more than an exhale of awe.
It turns me on more than he probably knows. Part of my mind thinks he uses that move on every girl he’s with. But I push that pesky thought to the side when I see him lowering his head.
His eyes raise to meet mine. He watches my reaction as he flicks his tongue against my folds. He smirks dangerously when I bite my lip.
Then he buries his face in me and I fall back against the bar.
I reach for something to grab, knocking glasses over. They shatter, but Lee does not relent. His tongue darts in and out, teasing me and driving me closer and closer to the edge. A chair falls as my arms grab out for support.
I feel out of control. I feel completely and utterly out of control. I can’t find anything to hold onto and my back, wet with sweat, slides against the smooth bar and every time I squirm Lee only holds my thighs tighter. I can’t do anything but ride the wave of pleasure that come from his tongue against my pussy and it feels wild and dangerous and oh, so fucking good. I don’t know where I am anymore, who I am anymore. It’s all just heat, blissful heat. And it just keeps coming.
“Lee … Oh God, Lee … Stop or I'm going to come.”
I gasp as he plunges his tongue inside me.
“No, Lee, I'm going to come.”
I haven’t even touched him yet. He doesn't stop, his tongue darting and flicking, but his hand moves up to the bar searching for mine. I moan and whimper as I wrap my hand in his.
“Lee, I'm— I'm—”
His thumb rubs against my hand as I grip him tightly. He’s telling me it’s okay. He’s telling me to let go.
I squeeze his hand and scream as I do just that.
Chapter 12
Lee
* * *
I'm sure the health administration appreciates me wearing my chef's hat in the kitchen. However, I'm not sure the health administration will appreciate me wearing only my chef's hat in the kitchen.
I don't care.
I look over at Jenna, humming to herself while chopping an onion on the other side of the stove. If I'm going down, she's going with me, since she wears nothing but a white apron tied around
her waist. Her round ass bounces as she sways her hips back and forth, completely unaware that I've stopped searing the steak and instead turned around to lean against the counter and watch.
Her hair cascades down her bare back. I tugged it loose from that bun of hers within minutes of seeing her. The two dimples right above her ass drive me crazy. I want to press my thumbs into them, hold onto her hips, full and soft, and grab a fistful of that wild hair of hers. I want to pull it back, bury my nose in its scent. I’ll suck on the vein pulsing in her neck, biting her ear lobe.
“I can smell the steak burning, Lee.” She peeks her chin over shoulder and smiles. “Enjoying the show?”
“You knew I was looking?”
She shakes her ass and says in a sweet, innocent voice, “I had no idea whatsoever.”
I throw a piece of lettuce at her and she grabs a celery stalk. I stride toward her and she holds it out like a sword. The closer I get, the more she starts poking it at me. I snatch it from her grasp and toss it over my shoulder. She lets out a loud yelp as I hoist her up from the waist and set her on the industrial kitchen island.
“Celery should never be used as a weapon, Jenna Harrison.”
Grinning, she squirms, but I hold her thighs in place. She then leans forward and gently bites the tip of my nose.
“What should it be used for?”
I lift a hand off her thigh as I reach for another celery stalk. Jenna takes the moment to wrap her leg around my waist, drawing me in closer.
“I thought you liked learning.” I tap the stalk against her forehead.
“What are you going to teach me?”
I trace the stalk down to her lips. She smirks and snaps a quick bite. I laugh as she chews, then toss the rest of the celery in the trash.
“For one thing, no teeth.”
Jenna nods and repeats, “No teeth.”
I lean in and kiss her. I can still taste whiskey. Jenna smiles at me as she picks up the spoon, leans over towards the stove, and stirs the pot of pasta.
“Jenna?”
“Yeah?”
I swear she even stirs seductively.
“The guy you were with on your birthday? William?”
She sets the spoon down. “Yeah?”
I shift and twist behind me to push the peppers around in the sauté pan while figuring out how to ask what I want to ask. She’s still got me wedged between her legs.
“We're not dating.”
I glance at Jenna. She’s crossed her arms under her breasts and is studying me.
“And we weren't fucking,” she adds.
I try to shrug it off like I'm not really that interested. I try to act casual instead of thoroughly relieved at the news. She drums her finger on the counter.
“Are you, um, seeing anyone?” she asks.
“Seeing anyone? No. I broke thing off with Sonya that night. It just seemed like William was –”
“Are you interested in anyone? Romantically, I mean,” Jenna interrupts.
Her voice is casual, but her shoulders are tense. And she won’t quite look me in the eye.
Well, shit. How do I answer this? She knows I’m interested in the blogger since I was flirting with her online. But if I say yes, she’s going to have to act like the blogger isn’t her. Unless she’s going to admit her tightly held secret, she’s got no choice but to act offended or hurt. But if I say no, she’ll think I’m a liar, because she knows I’m talking/flirting with the blogger online. Or, she’ll think I’m not really interested in the blogger, and how will she react to that given the blogger is Jenna’s real self behind her mask?
“Lee?”
“I’m interested in you,” I finally say. Before she can speak, I add, “Sorry it didn't work out between you and William. He seemed like a good guy for you.”
“A good guy for me?”
Her tone makes me feel like I said something wrong, but at least she’s no longer asking if I’m interested in someone else.
“Well, he's a lawyer and he's successful and he's a respectable guy.”
Jenna stares at me.
I add a splash of olive oil to the peppers. “He wears a suit to work. Works on important stuff that matters. He's mature and driven and –”
Jenna grabs my hand. “And boring and uninspired and unimaginative.”
“And smart.”
“Lee.”
“Jenna, I couldn't read those bricks you guys call books even if I wanted to.”
She spreads my fingers and draws over my palm. “What these hands do is amazing.”
I push them up against her breasts.
“I didn't mean like that,” she says.
“No?” I rub my thumb over her nipple, which perks up at my touch.
Jenna sags into me. “Okay, well like that, too.”
She forces my hands away, then hops off the counter. She spins me around to face the plates we’ve prepared together for dinner.
“Lee, what you do can’t be taught in any textbook.” She points to the sauté pan and leans in closer. “Look at the colors. You’re an artist. The world is so full of gray and brown and your dishes are brilliant and bright and full of color.”
I try to protest, but she stops me.
“Smell that. Just smell it.”
I hear her breathe in. I feel her eyelashes dust against my cheek as she closes her eyes. I close my eyes and inhale, too.
“I’m in Thailand. I’m in Turkey. I’m in Brazil and Argentina,” she says, breathing in again. “You did that, Lee. You take me places. I’m there because of you.”
She stops and is quiet for a moment. I don’t doubt that she is wandering a rainforest or standing in some wide, vast desert or staring up at the Patagonia mountains peaked in white.
“But that would all be nothing without the taste,” she says. “Open.”
With my eyes still closed, I open my mouth and taste the sautéed pepper, with just a hint of her salty finger. The flavors burst in my mouth, reminding me of what I loved about cooking in the first place. It’s not the fame or the money or the girls. It’s the intimacy. It’s the closeness food can bring between two people. It’s the shared experiences, the memories, the moment.
I open my eyes and look at Jenna, who licks the sauce from her fingers as she smiles right at me.
“Lee, you’re brilliant,” she says with such earnestness it makes me believe her.
I kiss her cheek and dish the peppers onto the plate with the pasta and the rest of the food.
“Yeah, well, my potential investors no longer think so. And neither does the blogger.”
There’s an immediate difference in Jenna’s demeanor. She grabs my chef jacket and slips it on over the apron and her nakedness. She’s mostly covered up now, though her legs are still bare.
“Well, those are things we’re supposed to talk about, remember? It’s why I came here in the first place.” She pushes around her food without making eye contact.
“Was it?”
She shakes off her sudden seriousness and laughs. “Of course. Why else am I here?”
Before I can say, “Maybe you came for me. Maybe you came because you feel something for me. Something you may be afraid of.” Before I can say any of that, Jenna jumps in.
“I mean, we have to tackle this head on. Your restaurants are the most important thing to you, and we need to keep those intact.”
She grabs her briefcase again and pulls out some papers, spreading them across the island. “Maybe we hit back with a social media campaign.”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, well, we can spin it positively. Name a dish after the blog. Embrace it, you know?”
“Eh.”
“No problem. I have a lot more –”
“Maybe I could invite the blogger to dinner and show her I can do better.”
She looks up from her papers. “No. No, I don’t think that would work at all.”
“Jenna.”
“I'm going to figure this out for you
. That's not a good plan, but I'll come up with a good plan and we'll get this all settled with the investors and –”
“Jenna, would you want to be my girlfriend?”
“I can fix this for you, Lee and it'll all be – Wait. What did you just say?”
She looks shocked. As shocked as I feel. I can’t believe I said it. Just like that. But seeing her evading me, keeping up the pretense with all the blogger bullshit, I just snapped.
And I’m glad.
We’ve wasted enough time.
I step closer to her and rest my hands on her hips. I rub my thumbs against the dip above her hip bone. She looks up at me with those eyes, wide and searching, and suddenly I'm unsure of myself. I can't remember the last time I was unsure of myself around a girl that wasn’t her. That's not me. I'm the confident, carefree, fun-loving guy. And yet here I am, hoping Jenna doesn't notice my fingers quivering through the thick material of my chef's jacket.
“Lee?” she says again. “What did you say?”
I smile at her and raise a hand to caress her cheek. “I think what we have between us is more than physical.” I place my other palm against her chest and feel her heart pounding underneath it. “Jenna, I think there's always been a connection between us.”
She bites her lip, and in her eyes, I see a hesitation. I know she's thinking. That's Jenna. Always weighing the options. Rationally assessing the pros and cons. Research and analysis and Excel spreadsheets and more research. I'm a jumper, and Jenna is a sit-on-the-edge-of-the-pool-dipping-her-toe kind of girl.
But I want her to leap. I want her to leap and know I'll be waiting there to catch her.
She opens her mouth and then closes it. Then she does something I did not see coming at all. She punches me in the shoulder and steps away, laughing as she reaches for her fork again.
“Very funny, Lee.” She sits at the island, facing away from me as I stand there, reeling. “Very, very funny.”
“I'm serious.”
She nods and shoves a mouthful of peppers in quickly. “Right, right.”
“Jenna.”
“Let's get on a plane to Vegas and elope right now.”