by Knox, Abby
“You tell me, young lady. Do you think you can follow orders?”
“Yes, chef.”
“Good girl. Now, take it. But go easy.”
I try, I really do. I get an A for effort. But I just can’t get the correct angle. Tears well up in my eyes.
“Hey. It’s okay. We can stop, Diana.”
I shake my head and smile. “I think I need you to show me how to slide it just right in the oven the first time, chef.”
He chuckles and kisses me softly. “I love you,” he blurts.
I gasp. “What?” Did he really just say that?
“It’s official. Your boss is a human resources nightmare. I hope you won’t file a complaint,” he says.
Oh. So, we’re still playing the game. Phew. I think. “Depends on how fast he can flip me over and shut me up with that big red pepperoni sausage.”
Both of us laugh while Leo’s also half-snarling, and I’m flat on my back on the patio sofa. Leo’s strong hands spread me wide, kneading my sore thighs. I’m not expecting his head to dip down for a taste, and my body jerks once again at the unexpected touch. So attentive Leo is, getting me accustomed to this with sweet, gentle kisses and licks, though there’s nothing delicate about my body’s reaction. One tender kiss against my clit, and my second orgasm slams into me. I cry out, though I don’t hear any sounds. Everything around me feels like it’s buzzing with joy. My body is on fire with newfound energy.
And then I’m free. I just came, twice, outside, on my boss’s veranda. As wrong as the world says it is to boink my boss, it’s more than right for me. Not just the sex, but the way he makes me feel is all kinds of right and proper. The way he sees me and accepts me for me. I only hope I can make him feel half as good.
Soon, I relax into this moment and enjoy Leo’s mouth on my pussy, his tongue diving into my cunt, his whole face ravishing every inch of me.
I happen to look down. I shouldn’t have done that. His heated, slicked face, the wild look in his eyes. He’s watching me. Still. As always. It’s too much, too intense, and I come again. How? How is he doing this to me?
With one wicked kiss, he towers above me. “One thing you always do in the kitchen. Taste as you go.” When he kisses my mouth and shares my sticky sweetness with me, I know what he means by that. Oh. My. God. I don’t know if he should be congratulated or arrested for that comment.
I don’t get the chance to punch him for that; he’s got one of my legs thrown over one of his big shoulders, and the tip of his cock teases my entrance. Once again, he lubes his length with my juice and begins to ease in.
Inch by inch, he tortures me. Going deeper, then pulling out, pausing to watch my reaction, kissing me, then sinking in a little bit more.
“Relax your muscles. You’ve been a good girl. Working very hard.”
Just the word “relax” from him opens me up, and he pushes past my barrier. It doesn’t even hurt as much as I expect it to.
Gently he begins a slow rhythm, gliding in and out of me, his gaze locked on my face, studying every flinch, every expression.
“What does my good employee think? Is she a team player? Gonna stick around for the long haul?”
I smile wickedly and grind into him, demanding a faster pace. “On one condition. I want overtime without prior approval.”
He gives me one deliciously rough thrust. “Done.”
“And I want all the sausage. I’m the only one who’s allowed to touch it.”
Another, harder thrust, with one rough hand gripping my soft hip so tight, and the other holding us steady on the rickety patio sofa. The cushions start to give way; soon he’ll be fucking me on bare metal, and I do not care. “As if that were ever a question,” he says. “You’re the only sausage handler I want.”
I dig my nails into his back as my legs squeeze. I want him deeper, rougher. My Leo knows. He pulls out and drives back in, sending cushions flying and the sofa legs scraping against the tile.
“I’m gonna come, baby.”
“Not yet. First, you have to tell me if I can come in late tomorrow. You worked me to the bone tonight, chef.”
Leo’s wild and red-faced now, his eyes watery. Another pump and his warm release floods me, just as he’s released a flood of love into my life.
“My good girl gets everything she asks for,” he says, voice barely a rattle against my chest. I curl around him, keeping him inside, not ready to let him go.
I’ll never be ready to let him go.
“I wasn’t messing around before, Diana. I love you.”
Looking into his eyes, I see now we’re done with our little game.
“Leo, I’m going to love you forever.”
Another kiss, this time sweet and soul-affirming. “Thank you.”
I can hardly believe this man is thanking me, after everything he’s done.
“Thank you for letting me take care of you.”
A lump erupts in my throat. “Oh. That. You’re welcome?” I can’t help it; I have to laugh. It feels absurd to thank someone for making space to help. But I get it, in a way. I get it because I get Leo, and he gets me.
Curled up in his lap moments later, Leo has us wrapped in a blanket and the cushions back where they belong. “A crisscross imprint on my balls didn’t seem fun,” he jokes.
I snort. “Well, you didn’t have to scare the cushions away.”
“I’m a scary dude.”
“You’re a teddy bear. Your brother, on the other hand….”
“Oh, by the way. You’re coming with me to the family reunion.”
“You say that like I don’t have a choice,” I tease.
He shrugs. “Frank already met you, which means my other two brothers and sister, my parents, and my grandparents are probably blowing my phone up by now.”
“I haven’t heard any calls.”
He smooths my hair out of my face. “My phone gets turned off when I’m fucking my wife.”
“What?!”
He blanches. “I mean my girlfriend.”
I look into his eyes, and I know that’s not what he meant.
For the first time, I’m not scared.
“You can call me whatever you like. I’m down for anything, Leo. As long as anything is with you. Just don’t ever torture me again like you did today at work.”
Leo stands and lifts me, blanket and all, into his arms. Moments later, he’s kicking open his bedroom door and tossing my stretched, exhausted body onto a bed covered in soft pillows and blankets. Like I said, solid arms and legs.
“So, tell me, Diana. Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“Somewhere about here,” I reply, tugging on his chest hair.
“Achievable goal,” he says with a wince and a laugh. “I fully support it.”
Epilogue
Leo
Five years later
I didn’t bother to tell Diana five years ago when we got together that my family reunion is in Sicily, on my family’s ancestral vineyard.
She didn’t seem bothered when the revelation came while we waited in international departures a few weeks later.
When our two oldest girls are four and three years old, old enough to start making memories, Diana and I host the family Christmas at the vineyard. The Williamses, all their spouses and kids, have their own small villa on the property. My side of the family has decided to join us, and they’re all bunking in the main inn on the grounds.
There’s no snow, but I’m hoping the free-flowing wine, unlimited homemade local cuisine, and acres of land for the kids to explore will make up for it.
As the two families gather around the enormous table in the courtyard on a mercifully balmy December night, Diana’s dad gives a toast.
As always, I keep an eye on my wife, who’s feeding our infant son at her breast. I adjust the blanket around her to keep them warm and refill her water glass.
“It’s not a traditional Christmas for the Williamses, but I think I speak for all the Williamses when
I say we’re honored to be a part of a family to introduce us to new traditions.”
After a boisterous “Saluti,” we dig into the traditional four-course meal. Later, my mom and grandmother deliver the desserts to the table. My grandmother, never one to mince words, looks skeptically at what Chloe’s husband, Phillip, has added to the celebration. “I’ve never had a suet brick for Christmas,” Grandma says with a shrug.
“Diana, who’s never quite lost her snark, says, “Oh wow, Phillip. Is that the same cake you brought to Christmas last year?”
“Not the actual same one. I make a new one every year,” Phillip insists.
Cecily’s husband stifles a laugh, and Cecily shushes him.
Chloe pats Phillip on the shoulder. “Poor dear. He keeps trying every year, and every year no one eats the Christmas cake.”
Cherise mutters, “Why would we when we’re already drunk on good wine, and that thing will give us all alcohol poisoning.”
Every year, poor Phillip tries, and every year, not even his own wife will touch the stuff.
I feel bad for the guy. “All right. I’ll try it.”
About ten people shout “No!” at me as I take a bite.
“I don’t know what everyone’s problem is. It’s not that bad.”
The truth is, it’s also not great. Spicy, pungent, damp, nutty, fruity? Yes. Tasty? Meh.
“Thank you, Leo,” says Phillip, raising his wine glass.
“It’s a tough crowd,” I say, returning the gesture.
Chloe shrugs. “Oh no, Leo took a bite. You’ll have to make a whole new one next year, honey.”
Phillip sets his glass down on the table with a firm clink and turns to his wife. “I told you, it’s not the same exact one.”
“Potato, potahto.”
I watch, curious, as Phillip leans in and whispers something in Chloe’s ear. She blushes deep red, then pushes back her chair. “Excuse me, everyone.”
The four sisters groan; everyone else looks confused but carries on with dessert.
I turn to Diana. “What’s going on?” I mutter. She laughs and beckons me to come closer.
“It’s a game. Chloe refuses Christmas cake, and he takes her away for a spanking.”
Shocked, I blurt. “Wow. Wow. Huh. You don’t say. That’s very interesting.”
“Husband, why are you babbling? Are you drunk?”
I answer, “Enough to give me an idea.”
A smile creeps across my wife’s face. “What idea?”
I lean in and murmur for her ears only. “I think we’re overdue for an employee of the month ceremony.”
Diana’s eyes widen with a familiar flash. Quickly, she unlatches the milk-drunk little Leo Jr. from her breast, covers up, and wordlessly hands our sleeping babe over to my mother.
She grabs my hand and marches me to our suite.
Five minutes later, I’m eight inches deep into my best employee, who’s requesting more overtime.
“Please, chef? I still have art school debt to pay.”
“I’m too thirsty to decide. Be a good girl and get me something to drink.”
My wife’s muscles tighten around me when we do that special secret thing we like. The thing she got shamed for when she brought it up in a mommy group discussion about post-pregnancy sex. We decided shortly thereafter that mommy group was too uptight for Diana.
My suckling at each of her heavy breasts draws a moan from her lips, while my thumb reaches between us and strums her to completion.
“Leo!”
My wife bucks against me and digs her nails in my back, and I still love the exquisite pain of it. She lets me have my fill of her, while I fill her up with my seed.
I joyfully clean her up with my tongue while my eyes stay locked on hers.
“Employee of the month? Employee of the fucking century.”
I toss my girl on her back with one swift move, ready to give her a second reward.
“Pizza man better be careful tossing me around. Another ten years? I might break a hip.”
I pause, resting my head against the pillowy curve of her breasts, breathing in her scent, wondering what that skull tattoo will look like in another ten, twenty, or thirty years. I can’t wait to find out.
“You know I’ll always be here to catch you, Diana.”
THE END
Thank you for reading Hand Tossed. If you enjoyed this short story, please visit my website for links to my Amazon page where you can find lots more titles to read. Follow me there to keep up with my latest releases. Or, just say hello! Turn the page and find out where to track me down on social media and email, or sign up for my mailing list to be the first to know about upcoming projects.
About the Author
Abby Knox lives a dual life. Fantasy Abby would love to live on a farm with goats, bees, chickens, donkeys and alpaca, making her own soap, yarn, honey and cheese. Reality Abby has no desire to do actual farm work. So, the ever-pragmatic Reality Abby keeps Fantasy Abby happy by putting her into adorable little works of romantic fiction with her pretend hobbies. Both Abbies hope you enjoy her sweet, sexy — sometimes a little over the top and weird — storytelling.
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More by Abby Knox
Don’t forget to check out the stories of Diana’s two older sisters, Chloe and Cara! Judge Me and Cake Walk are available now on Amazon!
Need more stand-alone short reads and novellas?
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Fighting For Dylan (book four in a six-author MMA series!)
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The Christmas Pickup
Like something a bit longer? Abby’s bouncer series, Crow Bar Brute Squad, is available now on Amazon. Each title is a stand alone story about a separate couple. No cliffhangers!