Tasty

by Bella Cruise

  Cal’s breathing hard, but he gives a nod. “Not a bad idea,” he agrees. “Wouldn’t want to get sand everywhere.”

  He stands and offers me his hand. I take it, and together, we head for the boat.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cal’s been planning for tonight. When we get back to his bungalow, all the windows have been thrown open so that the warm, sensuous breeze mingles through the curtains. He’s set out candles and begins to light them as soon as we step inside. But honestly? I don’t really care. I’m ready to ravage him, tear off that expensive suit and bruise his skin with kisses. I want to taste him, to feel him inside me. I kick off my heels and wrap myself around him, but when I press my mouth to him, he pulls away.

  ”Is something wrong?” I ask. He laughs lightly.

  “You have sand in your mouth,” he says. “Yummy.” Then he shakes a hand through my hair. “And your hair.” He lifts his eyebrows.

  “Why don’t we hop in the shower?”

  Cal leans over and kisses my shoulder deeply. “I’d do anything to see you soaking wet.”

  The master bedroom suite is on the other end of the house. I pause only a moment to glimpse at his enormous four-post bed, deftly made with satin sheets, before we step into the bathroom on the far end.

  Peeling my clothes off feels like an exhalation. I lean over to turn on the tap, but Cal comes around behind me, cupping my breasts and kissing the base of my neck. “You’re beautiful,” he says. Warmth erupts from everywhere his skin touches me.

  “You’re overdressed,” I respond. I turn on the tap and spin to face him. Desperate as I am, I rip off his shirt in a second. Steam rises around us as he takes off his pants. I take in all of him: the sculpted arms, the broad shoulders and the sexy chest hair. He’s huge, bigger than any guy I’ve ever seen before. And he’s already hard as we step into the stream of water. It pours around us, making me slippery and warm. My eyes are fixed on his package, between his thighs. I can’t look away.

  “Oh, you’re—” I begin, and then find myself laughing nervously. “You’re beautiful.”

  Cal looks at me through the fog, green eyes wide with humor.

  Suddenly, I don’t feel self-conscious at all. I know him better than I’ve known anyone else. If there’s one thing that cupcakecasanova loves more than anything in the world—more than cooking, even—it’s oral. Giving and getting. I step forwards through the water, until I can feel the hard length of him against my soft thigh. Then, arching my back as I move, I bend low. The water streams down my tits. Cal reaches out to caress my nipples. It feels delectable, pleasure shooting through my body, but I hardly notice. I’m focused on other things, like licking a trail across his perfect abs, down and down. I wrap my hand gently around the shaft of his cock, then tighten. He throws his head back.

  “Ohhh, Juliette,” he pants. I caress his balls with my free hand, letting my tongue linger on his happy trail, letting my hand around his cock stroke, slowly, slowly, up and down. We’re both soaking wet, but it’s as much from our desire as it is from the shower water pounding against our backs. His balls tighten as his arousal grows. At long last, I let my tongue flit along the length of him. He tastes full and rich and strong. I open my mouth and suck him in, all of him. He moans. My own thighs tremble with desire. Slowly, carefully, I draw back. Pause. He grabs a rope of my wet hair. His eyes are closed, but he’s moving his hands, his hips. God, he’s gorgeous. I want him inside of me, but right now, I’m happy to give, too. I suck him down deep again. His balls tighten beneath my fingers.

  “I need to finish inside of you,” he growls. “Let’s go to bed.”

  We separate our bodies for a moment. It feels like nothing short of torture. But he can’t keep his hands off me. He grabs my ass, pulling me close. Then he begins to kiss a line down the side of my face and throat. Before I know it, he’s picking me up and carrying me to bed. I feel the weight of his body on top of me, and he kisses me deeply on the mouth. We are so wet from the shower and I love feeling his skin slide against mine. My skin is still warm from the shower, and Cal is even warmer against me. I almost forget I’m here, naked, vulnerable. We’re just two bodies, melting together. Like science. Like alchemy.

  He leans me back into the satin sheets. The room is lit only by candles and moonlight. I feel like I’m in a dream as his hands explore every inch of my skin, my breasts, my stomach, my ass, my lips, wet and gently parting. I’m slick with pleasure. It tingles through me and I buck my hips, biting my lips. As his fingers circle the mouth of my pussy slowly, Cal, sitting back, gives me a cocky grin.

  “I’m not half as beautiful as you are, Juliette.”

  I moan, my hips lifting off the bed to meet his hand. But he doesn’t plunge his fingers into me. If he makes me wait one more second, I’ll kill him. “I’m calling in that fucking rain check,” I say.

  Cal smirks with that infuriating, smug expression. I raise my hips higher, but he still doesn’t move.

  “Fuck you, Cal McKenzie,” I growl and he bends towards me, nipping at my neck. My body tightens in anticipation.

  “I think I will.”

  He pushes into me, huge and pulsing. I cry out, tightening my grip around his back. He’s so big that I feel almost like I’m being split in two. But as he moves, my pussy relaxes into him. He’s wet from my body. I’m wet from him,

  He starts to ride me, slowly at first. The friction between us sends heat coursing through me. I move my hips in time with him, driving to take him deeper.

  He begins to move harder and faster, pinching my nipples so that I gasp. “You’re so tight,” Cal says, his breath hot against my neck. He reaches between us and teases my clit.

  “Fuck,” I moan. The contact, the pressure, drives me closer to the edge. He’s rubbing circles as he thrusts into me, sending bolts of pleasure that arch through me. It’s too much, like my entire world is crashing in. The orgasm starts to build and I reach up, starving for his mouth, desperate for his taste. His lips crash into mine just as I come. I scream against him, my thighs rhythmically clenching. But he doesn’t stop. If anything, it makes him fuck me harder.

  Just as the orgasm relents, Cal pauses, pulling himself out of me. “Don’t think I’m finished with you yet,” he says, and already I’m ravenous for him again.

  Skillfully, he turns me over so that I’m face down in the sheets. His hand is firm and against the mound of my ass. I’m aching for him already, legs spread wide and ready. But instead of fucking me, he gives me a slap against my backside. It’s a sweet pain, a biting pain. I let out a yelp. He spanks me one more time.

  I clench in anticipation. This time, he sinks his cock into my waiting pussy instead. My grip tightens on the bed sheets as pleasure mounts from deep within me. From behind, I can really feel the full, delicious length of him as he rides me. I begin to shudder, my whole body tensing. He’s getting harder and harder, and my pussy is tight as a vise around his length. I’m growing close again. He feels so fucking good inside me.

  He’s moaning now. I begin to shiver, pleasure building. I feel his balls slap against me. My back arches into him and he grabs me closer to him. I’m coming again before I even realize it’s happening. As waves of pleasure move through me, I ride him harder and harder, until I’m sitting back against his cock, and he’s balls deep inside. He grabs my hips with one hand, my nipple with the other, and deliberately, smoothly, he slows me down. His strokes into me are hard and purposeful. I let out a small cry with each one.

  At last, he plows into me a final time, and I feel his body tense and twitch. As he comes, I begin to come a third time, until together we’re nothing more than a writhing mass of bodies, him deep and hard, and me bucking against him.

  When it’s over, we collapse together in a soggy heap in his bed. For a moment, he’s still inside me. Then he lets out a laugh. He doesn’t withdraw, not yet. Instead, he moves my still-wet hair aside so he can kiss the place where my neck meets my collarbones. He’s still hard and full insid
e me. I lean into his cock. He laughs, and kisses me again.

  “Damn,” he says, gravelly voiced. “Damn.”

  “Damn,” I agree, turning my head back to kiss him, too. I want to stay like this forever, Cal inside of me, both of us sweet and sexy and spent. But all good things must end, even sex.

  “I’m dying for a snack,” he says. “I’ve got some Biscoff in the cupboard.”

  I savor him inside of me for just a moment longer. If it has to end, it might as well end like this, with a heaping teaspoon of cookie butter.

  “A man after my own heart.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Monday morning, I wake slowly, stretching out my arms and legs between Cal’s luxurious satin sheets. The windows are all thrown open. The sounds of the ocean ease me to life again. There are seagulls calling on the warm sea breeze. The taste of Cal is still on my lips, and my body is sweetly sore after a night spent fucking him. I remember everything we did, his hands, his cock, the muscles of the small of his back curling beneath my hands, and a slow smile lights my face. But when I turn over in the massive bed, and reach out for the long body that’s been tucked beside mine all night, I come up empty.

  But there’s sound coming from the kitchen. I slide out of the bed and find one of Cal’s T-shirts from the night before. I put my hair up in a sloppy ponytail, and head off to find him.

  Cal’s standing at the stove, dressed in nothing but a pair of crisp cotton pajama pants that are rolled at the waistband to show his perfect, carved hips. A cast iron skillet is steaming, ready for pancakes.

  “Hungry, love?” he asks, as he lifts the bowl of batter and lets it slowly drizzle down onto the hot surface. I come to stand behind him, pressing my breasts against his back, wrapping my arms around him so that I can casually drape my palms over his abs.

  “You’re going to have to throw that first pancake out.”

  “Am I?” he asks, turning to me with an arched eyebrow.

  “The griddle’s not hot enough. That one can be a test pancake.”

  Cal doesn’t believe me. I can see how he tucks his tongue into his cheek, biting it. But sure enough, when he flips it, it looks goopy and undercooked. Anyone can make that mistake, but I imagine it’s embarrassing for Callum McKenzie, Scotland’s grumpiest chef.

  “You win this round of Cake Master, Juliette Rockwell. But the proof’s in the pancakes.”

  He pours out a second one. I have to admit, it looks delicious. There are nuts and bananas mixed right in, and the batter smells fragrant with cinnamon. Soon, Cal’s amassed quite a towering stack, fluffy and steaming and perfect.

  “They look pretty good . . .” I admit. Now Cal’s other eyebrow arches.

  “Why do I sense a but?”

  I’m grinning now. “But I make the best pancakes this side of the Florida border.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Sure, if I weren’t such a sucker for cupcakes, I totally would have gone divey breakfast joint after culinary school. Canadian bacon and my famous sourdough pancakes.”

  Cal leans back. I savor the warmth of his body against mine—especially the way his perfect ass presses into me.

  “I can imagine you in a retro waitress uniform,” he says.

  I give his ass a little pinch. He startles, splashing batter on the griddle. But he deserves it.

  “Don’t change the subject. I mean it. I think this calls for a bake-off. Your cakes against mine.”

  He turns around, his eyes glinting with lust. Christ, this man is competitive. No wonder he was so hot under the collar online, as I waged bakeshop war against him. Apparently our competition was a turn-on for him. It seems like it is now, too.

  “I thought we had a truce,” he says, his voice throaty. I dip my finger in what’s left of his batter, then give it a slow, luxurious lick.

  “The truce still stands. This’ll be a friendly competition.”

  He reaches up to take my hand, my finger still wet from my mouth, and moves it down until it’s gripping his cock.

  “Are we friends?” he asks. I give him a squeeze, just a little harder than I need to.

  “Well,” I say, “we’re definitely not enemies.”

  #

  The sourdough cakes were one of my grandmother’s recipes. I could throw it together in my sleep. Unfortunately, I don’t have my starter with me, so I have to improvise. I fumble through Cal’s pantry until I find what I’m looking for: an unopened jar of Nutella.

  “Taking out the big guns,” he says. He’s watching me, perched on the countertop, eating a short stack of his own pancakes. Well, I can’t blame him. They look pretty delicious, and he’s probably worked up an appetite spending all night screwing me.

  “I don’t mess around,” I agree. I rinse a packet of organic strawberries in the sink, then get cooking. Unlike Cal, I wait until the griddle’s at the perfect temperature, even drizzling a blob of test batter down to make sure. My gram always insisted that practice pancakes were for amateurs. I have the Rockwell family name to uphold. I’ll take nothing less than perfection, a stack of cakes that even Cal can’t resist.

  But it’s not long before Cal’s standing behind me at the stove, his cock pressed between my ass cheeks.

  “I love to watch a woman cook,” he says. I reach a finger into the jar of Nutella. Then I drizzle it over his forearm and lick it clean. His cock pulses with desire. I’m wet, too, wanting him. But I have pancakes to make, damn it! I pour the batter down for the first one. The griddle hisses.

  “Good thing you never went to culinary school,” I say lightly. In one easy motion, Cal takes my hair down. When he speaks, his voice is ragged in my ear. I’m turned on just by the heat of his breath.

  “I would have liked to see you back then. Juliette Rockwell, young and perky student chef.” He lifts up his hands, squeezing my tits through my T-shirt. His touch is just a little rough—just how I like it. Almost unconsciously, I begin to moan. But then I shake that thought away.

  “I’m still perky,” I remind him, pouring out the second pancake. He pinches my nipples. My body fills with warmth at the sweet, sensuous sting. His cock is rock hard now against my ass. He’s grinding into me, his steady rhythm as regular as the ocean. I move with him without even thinking.

  Crap, those pancakes are going to burn, I think, hearing the sizzle grow louder. But then I feel his hand travel lower, slipping beneath the hem of his T-shirt that I’m still wearing. I bite my lip, grinning. Let them.

  “You’re perfect, Juliette,” he moans, his stubbly face tucked against my neck. He peels my shirt off, then one of his hands moves down to let his cock free from his tight briefs. I put both hands on the stove, steadying myself as he moves his hard member against me. I’m not watching the stove at all anymore. I’m swollen with wanting him.

  But he doesn’t fuck me. Not yet. Instead, he reaches a hand into the batter and lets it drip down over the surface of my back. Without even thinking, I turn the burner off. With my eyes closed, I can feel Cal’s tongue, wet and hungry, lick up the batter. Delight warms my body. He plunges his hand into the bowl again, then trails a finger across my ass. My pussy aches with desire as Cal draws his tongue and teeth and lips over my cheeks.

  Funny, to hear his accent come out at a time like this. Because between savage, starving sounds, he says, “I love yer arse.” My asshole tightens in response. His mouth moves all along my crack and I tighten my grip on the counter, panting. Cal McKenzie has an expert tongue, and now he’s expertly tasting me. He darts his tongue inside me. I cast my head back, overcome with wave after wave of bliss. Just as I do, he moves his hand against my clit. I’m standing on my tiptoes in front of the stove, moaning with every single circle that Cal makes. It feels so god damned good. I’m about to come, and he’s not even inside me yet.

  “Fuck me,” I pant. “Goddamnit, please fuck me.”

  I don’t have to ask him twice. Before I know it, I feel his cock against my hole. I’m wet from his mouth, shivering, open and
dripping with desire for him. But still, he takes his time pushing it inside of me. Slowly, moaning with his own need, Cal fills me up. His cock pulses delectably inside of me. His fingers seem to be all over too: on my clit, in my pussy, pressing against my g-spot. He’s everywhere, and every cell feels alive with pleasure. He’s so big, and I’m so tight. He slowly withdraws, then fills me again. I’m close, shuddering with every motion of his hips. With a final stroke, he comes inside me, and my own body clenches and writhes. He lets out a strangled yell of pleasure. I cry out, too.

  “Oh god, Cal. Ohhhh my fucking god!”

  It’s not until my heart slows and I catch my breath that we slowly peel our bodies apart. He pinches my hip, laughing against the back of my neck.

  “I won,” he says. I glance down. The pancakes are a burnt, gloppy mess.

  Somehow, I don’t think my gram would hold it against me. She was a total sucker for a hot guy, too.

  #

  Two days later, I’m at brunch with the girls: Ginny and Evie, my friend who owns the best seafood restaurant in the Keys. She’s found love recently, too, with a hot marine biologist from Gainesville who hides a killer body in a smart, studious package. For months now, I’ve sat through mimosas while she and Gin go on and on about their perfect men. It’s thrilling to be able to join in for once, too.

  “So he’s famous,” Ginny says, “and successful.”

  “And he loves oral and giving it to you from behind,” Evie adds, lifting her glass. “Shit, sign me up.”

  “You guys forgot that he’s Scottish,” I add, the corner of my mouth lifting. Evie glances at Ginny.

  “Shit, Jules. You’ve hit the mother lode. There’s gotta be a catch.”

  “Well,” I say, putting down my glass. I’ve avoided thinking about this part, really. The reason why it might not pan out for me and Cal, no matter how much he says he loves my “sweet little arse” and no matter how much I love the feeling of his cock in my mouth. “His shop is only a pop-up. Not a permanent installation.”