by J. B. McGee
In an instant, he turns around and walks me backward. “Yeah, you could keep taking your clothes off, only wear this, then help me in the kitchen. Nothing like a sexy sous-chef.”
I grab the apron, fluffing the layers of black and white zebra print and hot pink damask ruffles. “You do know I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy, right?” Our eyes meet. His blue orbs sparkle as he nods, raising his eyebrows, as if challenging me. “I do love the colors and the frills. It doesn’t look like an apron, more like a dress.” I turn it around and untie the fabric. My pulse starts to race. My entire body sizzles like the food on the stove. “Except it’s missing the back.” My body shudders as I continue to think about this game he wants to play with me in our kitchen. It’s naughty and sweet all at the same time.
“I think that was the idea. I got it from this place that specializes in flirty aprons. When I saw it, all I could think of was you in it naked.” He picks up the wooden spoon and gives the chunky marinara sauce a stir before turning the knob on the stove, reducing the temperature to low. One look and I can tell it’s the recipe we got while on our honeymoon. The jarred stuff I grew up eating has nothing on this sauce. It’s not hard to prepare, either—more patience than skills. My mouth waters thinking of the sweet, less acidic taste of the San Marzano tomatoes. Nostalgia settles in as I have a flashback of a naked Bradley feeding me leftover pasta with this exact sauce in our villa. It was the middle of the night when we’d made up for every day we’d been together without having made love in only a matter of hours. Being in Italy for those two weeks taught me so much. Everyone here is on the go, in such a hurry, and trying to eat food as quickly as they can. If we can even call it food. It’s junk. This…this is food. “Did you see what it says on the front?”
See what on the front of what?
“The apron.” He’s always understood me, but the more we’re together, the better we fit, the more we’re able to read each other’s minds. Or maybe the more he’s able to read mine.
“Right. The apron.” I straighten the top so I can see the glittery text. “Candy Cane Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses. Aw. You’re just all in the Christmas spirit tonight, huh?”
In an instant, Bradley empties his hands and wraps his arms around my waist, dips me back, and then claims my lips. It reminds me of that first kiss. I’d been wound up so tight I couldn’t fully enjoy it, but not this time. I inhale his scent, a combination of woodsy citrus as our tongues dance and twirl like ballerinas dancing The Waltz of the Snowflakes in The Nutcracker. Chills go from the top of my head all the way to my toes, causing them to curl before the heat envelops me all over again.
Bradley pulls back and points to the green leaves hanging from the doorframe. Straightening me, he tugs the hem of my top over my head and tosses it to the floor. “Damn. I’ve missed you these last couple of weeks while you’ve been studying.” He brushes that stray piece of hair behind my ear as his lips curve into a smile. “I can’t wait to start and continue Christmas traditions with you. For instance, that stuff on the stove needs to simmer for a minute…or ten. So, there’s this one memory I’d like to make with you while we wait.”
“Is that right? And what did you have in mind, exactly?”
The light bounces from his eyes, making them glimmer. “Well, I thought I’d surprise you.”
“Mmm hmm. What about this cute little thing, though?” I hold the apron up with my pinky.
Taking it from my hands, he tosses it to the same place he dropped my sweater. “Later. You can wear that after. Or nothing, if you prefer.”
I giggle. “Okay.”
“Okay, you’ll wear nothing, or okay, you’ll wear it after?”
“I’ll do whatever you want me to do…whatever you tell me to do, Mr. Banks. And I mean that in more ways than one. Now, kiss me.”
He caresses my cheek with one hand while he places the other behind my neck, threading his fingers in my hair. “You’re beautiful, Gabby Girl.” He pulls me closer, starting to dance, but there’s no music.
My cheeks redden. After all this time, I should be used to compliments, especially from him. He is always sweet-talking me. I love it, but they still make me blush every single time. I know I’m the luckiest girl in the world to be the object of his affection. “Time’s ticking.” I lean into his touch.
He smirks, letting his hand slip down and taking mine into his before twirling me. “Anxious, eh?”
I nod. When I slam against his hard body, I grip the waistband of his already loose sweats hanging perfectly on his hips—just below the V I love so much—and begin to slide them down his legs, causing him to still completely. I never let my eyes leave his as I begin to plant kisses on his chest. “You’re always so generous. You’re always planning…” When I get to his pelvis, I free him and kiss the tip of his length, then smile. “Don’t you think it’s my turn to be the one with the surprises for a change?”
He swallows hard before placing his hands on the back of my head, gently pushing me down his shaft and filling my mouth. Even though we’ve been together for almost two years, I’ve never done this. I’ve always wanted to, but I was too shy. Tonight, I’m feeling confident and bold. Having his most intimate part, hard as steel yet delicate and tender, in my mouth is empowering. This is love and trust. His fingers swirl in my hair as he guides me up and down. I’m doing everything in my power to not gag even though I like this. My mouth isn’t big enough for him. I swirl my tongue around as my head bobs up and down, and his breathing becomes more hoarse and ragged. My eyes bulge. Is he actually going to come in my mouth? Clearly, I haven’t thought this out well enough. I pull back, licking around the tip, and quickly replace my mouth with my hand. He tries to push my mouth back down, but I’m not ready for that yet, so I vigorously shake my head from side to side, which is not good timing. Not at all. My wide eyes meet his as he lets go all over my face. He sucks in a deep breath. “Fuck, Gabby.”
Giggles start pouring out of me at the same pace the sticky, salty stuff is being slung all over me. “Sorry.” When he’s done, he positions his chin between his thumb and pointer finger while nibbling his lower lip. “What? Are you mad?”
“Am I mad? You’re kidding, right? I’ll never be able to get this picture out of my mind. I’m trying to decide whether to cut the food off, put you on the counter, and devour you.”
“Oh.”
“Or whether to send you to the shower while I finish dinner.”
Reaching for a paper towel, I wipe my face. My stomach rumbles. “I think my body just spoke for itself. Maybe we could have fun on the counter for dessert?”
I peek down as his yogurt slinger twitches and springs back to life. Yogurt slinger? I begin to laugh so hard tears seep from the sides of my eyes, and I wrap my arms around my stomach to ease the cramping. Not sure where that came from, but sometimes I do crack myself up.
“What’s so funny?”
“I just named your penis.”
“Excuse me?” He raises an eyebrow and grins that panty melting smirk of his.
“Yeah. Chaos.”
He chuckles while pulling his pants back to his hips. “I’m not following.”
“Well, your penis is a yogurt slinger. Like a Greek yogurt slinger. That’s some potent stuff. A little goes a long way. Nothing sweet about it, either. That was like eating sour salt.” Which is why I must pour myself a glass of wine stat. Because while I love to please him, and that was like something out of a porno, I can’t get that taste out of my mouth fast enough. Do women really like that stuff?
“What made you come up with Chaos?”
“I was obsessed with Greek gods when I was little.” I hold the bottle of red wine over his glass. “More?” He nods. “You know, I love to read. All the other kids would be outside playing, and I was inside with my nose stuck in a book.”
“Yep, my little bookworm. We should have married in a library.”
I smile. That wouldn’t have been a bad idea. “Anyway, Chaos in Greek mythol
ogy is the origin of everything and the first thing to exist. Eros was one of the gods that was born from Chaos, and Eros is love. Your little yogurt slinger made me think of Greek yogurt, which made me think of Chaos, which brought me back to love. Kinda like that children’s book, If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. It all came full circle for me.” I take a sip of my wine, then put the glass down and unclasp my bra, shimmy my jeans and underwear to the floor, and use my toes to remove my socks.
Bradley inhales deeply. “Dammit. We’re never going to eat.”
Reaching down, I pick up my new apron and put it on. “No. We’re going to eat soon because I can’t wait for dessert.” The ties are so long they have to be wrapped around my waist twice, then they tie in the front. I twirl. The name suits this thing. This makes the biggest tomboy feel flirty. “So...”
He closes the distance between us, wraps his arms around my waist, and brushes his lips against mine. “I love you, Gabby. How did I ever get so lucky?”
“I ask myself that same thing every single day.”
He kisses my forehead. “So my penis is now named Chaos?”
“Ha. Yes!”
“I think it’s perfect.” He rubs his nose against mine. “Like you.”
“Gabby Girl. Wake up. We can’t sleep the day away today.” Bradley’s front is against my back, his leg wrapped between mine, and his arm draped over me. He takes my breast into his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “As tempting as that may be.”
Now I’m awake, ready, and my full attention belongs to him. Except, I think the kind of attention I want to give him is different from what he wants at this particular moment. “Why can’t we stay in bed all day?”
“Because we’ve got sexy memories to make.” He moves my hair to the side and nuzzles my neck.
“Uh huh. You’re off to a great start. Keep going.”
“If I keep going, I’m never gonna want to get out of bed, but your skin in the morning is so touchable…so kissable.”
I roll over. “You’re the guy. You never turn down sex.”
“True.”
“I’ve never once had to ask for it. You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?” I pull his lips into mine. “That’s my idea of making sexy memories.”
“Are you pouting?”
I bat my lashes. “Sam’s always saying I’m spoiled and will pout until I get my way.”
His finger pulls my bottom lip out from under my teeth. I haven’t even realized I was biting it. “You’re adorable when you pout. You know that?”
“Uh huh.”
His hand drifts down between my legs. I open them as he slides his finger over and around. It’s so sensitive in the morning. I try to tell him, but my breathing hitches. Nothing comes out of my mouth when my lips part.
“I loved what you did last night in the kitchen.” He trails kisses from my neck to my breasts, then to my stomach, and finally to my core, but instead of stopping, he keeps going, licking his way down my inner thighs. “And I can’t get it out of my head.”
“I know. I will never be able to look at our kitchen the same ever again.” Bradley’s pasta was homemade perfection right down to the al dente of the fettuccine. That was barely a blip on the radar in comparison to the appetizer and dessert. Dessert, which was my warm body against the cool granite countertops while Bradley dressed me up as his own personal ice cream sundae. After we were sticking together like superglue, he ran us a relaxing, warm bath before we came to bed. I hope there’s more dessert in the future. Near future. “You’re going to make me beg and you’re teasing me?”
“You’ve been oh so naughty.”
My insides twist. “I think you liked me being naughty.”
“No, I loved it.”
His head is in the perfect spot for me to thread my fingers through his soft black hair. I massage his head as he makes his way back up my body, stopping to kiss me at my most intimate part—like I did for him last night. I gasp as his tongue flicks from side to side before entering me. His hands are gripping my hips. My limbs go lax, and my eyes roll backward.
He stops. Dang it. He’s killing me. “Watch me, Gabby.” My eyes flash open, locking with his. “Watch me like I did you last night.”
With each movement he pushes me closer to the edge. He doesn’t speak another word because that would require stopping, I’m sure, but he doesn’t have to say a word. Every second that passes tells me everything I need to know. The way he looks at me makes me feel like the most cherished girl in the world. He’s making love to me with his eyes just as much as he is with his mouth. And actions speak so much louder than any word I’ve yet to hear.
My fingers grasp his short, messy locks tighter as a moan escapes and my breathing gets heavier. “Bradley, I’m about to. Do you want me to?”
He grunts increasing his pace, squeezing me tighter, and I know that’s the permission I need. Waves of sensation pulse through my body, and even though I want to close my eyes, I’m trying to stay focused on him as I come down from the gift he just gave me. “I love you.”
He kisses my thighs and then my stomach. “I love you so much.” He inserts Chaos. I can’t contain my laughter. Will I ever be able to think about his penis without laughing like a giddy school girl?
“What’s so funny?”
“Chaos. Maybe one day I’ll be able to think about it…him…without laughing, but I’m not there yet.”
He smirks, shaking his head as he pushes into me. He squeezes his eyes closed. “Chaos loves his home. You feel so damn good.”
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I take him in deeper as he pulls my breast in his mouth. With every thrust we are in perfect harmony. I kiss his shoulders, his neck, his ear, wanting to be with him in every way possible. Electricity surges through my body as the friction of our connection intensifies. Our pants and groans both increase, and our ragged breaths are synchronized. He pushes into me one last time as I toss my head back and let the pleasure consume my quaking body. His forehead rests on mine, and he stills in me, but I feel the pulsation of his own orgasm. Bradley’s lips brush mine, then he kisses my forehead. “I’m glad you talked me into this, but can we get ready so we can make my sexy memories? Shower?”
“Uh huh. Please.”
The steam billows as the warm water bounces off our bodies. Gabby and I love to shower together. She shaves my face from time to time when the stubble starts to annoy the hell out of me, I wash her hair, and we take turns lathering up each other’s bodies.
She always likes to stay in a few minutes alone to shave her legs. Never mind the fact the shower has two heads on each side with a huge bench against the wall that’s long enough for both of us to lie on—wide enough for both of us too. In other words, it’s not like she doesn’t have space.
Gabby says something about it being the place where she does her best thinking. I get needing time alone to think. My place is the gym, and she’s never there with me, especially not there naked, so it’s not as torturous.
I put my hands on her hips, turn her to face me, and kiss her forehead. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”
She smiles and closes her eyes. “Kay. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
I push the glass door open just enough for me to get out so the floor doesn’t get wet. As I close it, I can’t help but find myself staring. Never would I have thought I’d marry someone or be this happy. Never had I thought I’d actually find a woman as beautiful and breathtaking as her. Never did I think my heart was capable of so much love. She glances at me, smiling. “What?” When we met and started dating, she was so self-conscious, but she doesn’t even attempt to cover her perfectly curvy body anymore.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Have I mentioned how much I love you this morning?” I ask, taking the towel from the rod.
“I don’t know. Seems we’ve had this conversation a time or two. Is it possible to say it too many times?”
“I sure as hell hope not.”
She smiles. “I hope not to
o. I love you.”
I’ll never tire of the way those three words roll off her tongue, and I hope she never gets sick of hearing me say it. She is making it hard as hell to leave her, especially while she leans over and starts at the base of her shin, with her plump ass sticking out. My blood starts to rush south. She has that effect on me every. Damn. Time. It doesn’t matter if we’ve made love all night, all day, or both. I run the towel through my hair, then rub it against my body, and wrap it around my waist before heading to the closet, which is an extension of the bathroom.
Last night literally blew away my expectations. I thought Gabby would come home, put the little sexy apron on, and we’d make love after dinner. After all this time, there are sides of her that are predictable, yet she still continues to surprise me.
On our first meet in the middle date, in the elevator of that cheap hotel, I promised her we’d take the sexual part of the relationship at her pace. My plan had always been to allow her to do stuff as she felt comfortable and never a minute sooner. It wasn’t about me and my needs. For years women had fallen at my feet to take care of my every desire and fantasy. Veronica had definitely held nothing back. I shake my head. I cringe. In hindsight, I guess she thought the more she did, the higher the chance I’d commit to her. I was a dick for not seeing that. Or maybe I did, but just didn’t care.
“So what are we doing today that’s so special?” Gabby asks.
I’m grateful for the interruption because Veronica is the last person I want to be thinking about. I drop the towel and pull a pair of boxer briefs from one of the drawers, slide them up, and start to browse through my shirts. “Going to get a Christmas tree, decorating the house, and then later, I have a special surprise.”
“What is it?”
I cock my head to the side, scrunching my brows. Pulling the purple gingham button-up she likes from the hanger, I wonder aloud, “Help me out with what part of the definition of surprise I need to explain to you?”