The Matchup

by Alice Ward

  “You have a secret family recipe, then?” the chef asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Well, Mom usually only made dishes Dad wanted to eat, so dinner was often some kind of meat and potatoes.” I smiled at the chef’s upturned lip. “As I grew older, I stayed away from the heavy meaty foods and opted to make things I remembered my grandmother making.”

  My grandmother had been portly and robust, but a little gun shy when it came to standing up for her daughter who was being abused by her dashing husband. She’d done everything she could for us girls. My grandmother was a delightful person, and I truly enjoyed being with her.

  “Can I order anything? Even ethnic stuff?” I hoped he’d say yes. I really wanted to make Shahi Paneer, my grandma’s specialty. It was a warm, spicy, comforting dish that had a dash of the exotic — perfect for the chilly landscape. And which hopefully would arouse Lucas in a sensual way, so our sexual play might be fewer whips and chains and more love and laughter.

  “That’s an Indian dish. Was your grandmother from India?” Lucas looked like he was sincerely interested in finding out more about my background.

  “No, but Grandma was raised in Northern India. Her parents were English language teachers, and she adopted a lot of the culture. When she returned home to marry and have children of her own, she continued some of the traditions, especially making foods she loved as a child.”

  Lucas smiled. It felt good to share what made me me with him.

  “Yes, we can get anything you need as long as it isn’t too exotic. Anything we can find in Vail, so nothing that has to be ordered online.”

  “If there’s an Indian food grocery nearby, it’ll have everything I need.” I quickly wrote out a list of things.

  I watched Lucas as his eyes widened. Surely, with all of this money and lavish lifestyle, he’d had Northern Indian food before.

  “We’ll have your items to your penthouse at six o’clock,” the chef said with staunch professionalism.

  Back in our penthouse, with two hours to kill until our Wine and Dine task began, I wasn’t sure what we’d do.

  I immediately thought of the rack of clothes I hadn’t had time to properly pilfer.

  “A fashion show!” If Lucas thought he could just tie me up with some straps and have his way, he had another think coming. There was more than one way to tie a lover up. “You stay here.”

  I left him on the living room couch and went to the closet, where I squealed at the sight of my very own designs come to life.

  There was a handwritten note I hadn’t seen before pinned on one of the bags. It was from Mr. Huffman. The note read:

  Ava, I have to say, I was very impressed with your designs. I hope you don’t mind that I copied a few of the prototypes. I have plans for them, but I’ll get your permission before moving forward.

  Barely able to contain myself, I dressed in a slinky number I’d whipped up just last night. It was hard to believe that it was possible to have custom-made garments this fast, even with all the money in the world to work with.

  “This is so exciting.” I twirled for Lucas, my smile feeling like it was going to crack my face.

  “Very.” He made himself more comfortable on the couch. “Shall I play some music?” He seemed almost as excited as I was.

  “Yes, let’s do this right. You find the music while I change.”

  I loved everything. It had all turned out so beautifully. It was the first time my designs had been assembled by someone other than myself. I was moving up in the world.

  As I paraded around in my outfits, Lucas was growing more and more interested. I made sure I’d created things that loved my body, and as he reacted to the clothes, I could tell he loved my body as well. I’d never felt particularly desired by a man before. It was uplifting. I felt sexy.

  Without intentionally planning it, I’d already started to seduce him. I decided that if he was planning on torturing me tonight, I was totally justified in doing a bit of torturing of my own. His interest spurred me to sway my hips, and at one point I even ran my finger down the side of my breast. I worked my makeshift runway, which was the length of the picture window that showed the incredible landscape in the background.

  “I’m so impressed, Ava. You’re really talented. Why aren’t you showing at fashion week? Why aren’t your designs someplace?” He was so naive about this business, I had to laugh.

  “The design business is as hard as this competition. No offense to your uncle, but it’s pretty brutal.”

  “Well, your designs are magnificent. I’m sure you’ll be able to tackle the business and my uncle successfully.”

  I hoped, from the way he’d alternately melted into the couch and sat on the edge of his seat, that maybe he wasn’t going to be hard to tame.

  By the time there was a knock at the door, I was ready for the touching rule to be lifted.

  “Is everything to your satisfaction?” Our guide from the night before inquired, taking in the outfit I’d just slinked past Lucas in.

  “Yes. I love it, everything is perfect.” I blushed with pride.

  Lucas chimed in from the couch. “You’ve made it really hard for me to stay away from her. Bravo.”

  “I’ll leave you two to do your thing, just remember no touching until the timer goes off. And you can start making dinner now.” She nodded and backed out the door, leaving us alone.

  When I turned back to Lucas, my fingers tingled with the desire to touch him. They itched to rake through his hair, feel the texture, the softness. Oh my god, was I sweating? I’d never felt this way about a man before. I’d been mildly attracted to other men, in an “if I pretend I really like him maybe I’ll really like him” kind of way. But what I was feeling for Lucas bordered on liking him enough to have thoughts of dating after the contest.

  He got up and approached me, looking as if he was about to pounce. I suddenly wanted to prolong the anticipation, maybe even make him suffer a little.

  “Not till the buzzer, remember?” I shot him a coy smile but held my ground, picking up the red and white box and shaking the timer inside as a reminder.

  “Oh, I know.” His response was all growly, making goosebumps skitter across my skin. “It’s emblazoned on my brain.” He came so close, I could smell the minty freshness of his breath.

  He grabbed the box out of my hands, removing the timer from it.

  “She just gave us permission to start this.” He took the timer and dialed it to the two-hour setting. “Don’t you think?” He angled so close, his lips hovered almost over mine.

  Wetness bloomed between my legs, and my knees developed a buckling sensation I’d heard about but never experienced. I felt myself flush and wondered how he’d turned the tables so neatly.

  Luckily, there was another knock at the door, this time the chef with two bags of groceries.

  “Hi, Ava and Lucas. I have your groceries, and I’m happy to report, we were able to find everything you needed.”

  “Wonderful! Let’s get started.” With a cheery smile, I grabbed the bags and ducked under Lucas, effectively putting the space between us I needed to avoid the intense feelings welling inside of me and concentrate on this challenge.

  I’d decided to face this with as much openness and zeal as I could muster. Refused to worry about tonight, until tonight. I pulled out everything I needed, lining the ingredients up on the counter.

  Lucas came in, hands in his pockets, and silently watched me.

  “Do you cook?” I asked Lucas as I found the drawer that held the measuring spoons and cups.

  His lips curved upward and he shrugged. “I can cook a few things if need be. Mostly on the grill. But it’s been a while.” He sat on a barstool at the counter and popped a piece of paneer cheese into his mouth.

  I cocked my head, one hand propped on my hip. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Watching my sexy chef do her thing.” He leered at me as he said it, and even though I didn’t know him well, I knew that he w
as half messing with me, half seeing how far he could go with that.

  “Can you slice things?”

  “Yes, of course I can slice things.”

  “Then you can come here and cut tomatoes. After that, you can soak the cashews.” I let my older sister bossiness enter my voice as I pointed at the ingredients.

  “Oh, can I now?” As he walked to the sink to wash his hands, he cut it close and “accidentally” brushed his hip against mine. We’d built up such an erotic mood that the tiny touch had my heart pounding, the blood rushing to my head. “What are we making again?”

  While he was cutting and soaking, I had an idea. “Shahi Paneer. You’ll love it. I forgot something. Be right back.”

  Walking swiftly to my closet, I quickly shuffled through my choices. The sexiest outfit I’d designed was a black cocktail dress cut low in the front. It was tight at my ass and tailored to fit my body like a glove that was in love with me.

  When I reentered the kitchen wearing the dress and a pair of fuck-me-now heels, he dropped the knife, and it clattered into the sink. His head shook as his interested, cool eyes scanned me head to heels, so intensely that I could practically feel my pores open up and whimper, wanting to be touched.

  “You’re not going to play fair, are you?” He shoved away from the counter and approached me the way a tiger would when stalking his prey.

  “You can’t abandon your post.”

  He didn’t listen, and my heart did a lurching thing in my chest. What the fuck was he doing to me?

  “I’m not,” he rasped as he continued his slow migration toward me.

  “You haven’t been exactly playing fair either, so I’m armed for battle.” I straightened my spine as I said it, which inadvertently jutted my breasts out farther. This brought the laughter from him I was hoping for, but now his eyes were on my breasts, and I could feel my nipples beginning to tighten under his gaze. “Now, get back to work.”

  “Just wait…” It was said in a low rumble, and it was definitely a veiled threat, but he returned to his cutting and soaking duties.

  I snatched an apron I’d seen in the cupboard off its hook, putting it on before rummaging for the perfect pan. I’d done all this without so much as glancing at Lucas, but now I needed spices, which were located in the cabinet just in front of him. Playing with fire, I leaned across his body, letting my breasts brush over his elbow, surreptitiously reaching for what I needed.

  He hissed in a breath through clenched teeth, then caught my arm and held me there for a second before directing my attention toward the timer. An hour and thirty minutes left. “Tick, tock.”

  I thought at first he was just talking about the time we had to cook dinner, then I realized as I stared at his amazing, blazing gray-blue eyes that he was counting down to the moment we would be allowed to touch. I swallowed hard and forced myself to hold his gaze, upped his game by sweeping my tongue slowly across my lips. Then I looked at him innocently, as if he hadn’t affected me at all. “Could you please pass me the coriander?”

  I’d forgotten I’d put it out on the counter behind me, so he had to reach around me to grab it. When he did, his steely erection pressed into my thigh. My lips parted, and I barely held back a gasp. Then he moved away, sliced into an onion.

  God, he felt enormous.

  I hoped I possessed cook-a-recipe-autopilot, because now all I could think about was finding out just exactly what he was sporting.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lucas

  She was driving me insane.

  She wasn’t terribly skilled at the art of seduction, which made her even more desirable. Knowing how to make a man want you as a matter of craft was alluring, but making a man want you because you were naturally sexy and exciting, that was almost too much to bear.

  Dressed in an outfit that practically sang on her body — she was a symphony of sex and beauty — her sweet scent with the hint of lavender, drove me wild. I hadn’t had to hold myself back like this in years. Couldn’t, as a matter of fact, remember wanting to touch a woman so badly. When I’d been perched on the barstool at the counter, I’d had such a raging hard-on that I’d almost barked for her to come sit on my lap so I could grind my dick into her.

  It was the competition creating the tension, amping it up until it was unbearable. In real life, I wouldn’t feel this way. Surely.

  She went to the stove, and like a maestro, put the onions, tomatoes, and different spices in a sizzling pan and immediately the air filled with a sensual aroma.

  How could food cooking be sensual?

  Thankfully finished chopping — because, at this point, I could take a finger off — I excused myself and went out on the balcony, where I sucked in lungfuls of cold mountain air. I felt crazy, like my control could snap at any moment. Unacceptable. This kind of seduction was so foreign to me, and yet I found myself only wanting more. It was an interesting prelude, and reminded me of the many toys I’d used in sex play, ones that replaced skin to skin touch, and amped up desire until it was a torment.

  I wondered if she knew what she was doing to me, strutting into the kitchen in that sweet dress that barely covered her ass. I didn’t think she had a clue how dangerous it was for her, because in less than an hour, I’d have that ass under my merciless attentions.

  When I peeled my fingers from the balcony rail and returned to the kitchen, she’d lit candles.

  “It’s ready.” She turned, a knowing look in her eyes. Dammit, she knew just what she was doing to me, the little vixen.

  The food was glorious. Rich, spicy and comforting, but throughout dinner, I found it hard to focus on her eyes, and not her incredible tits. All I could think of was getting my hands on her, ripping the damn hot-ass dress in half, and taking her breasts into my mouth before exploring every inch of her body.

  Twenty minutes to go.

  I forced myself to talk to block out the tick tick of the timer. “This is so good. Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Oh, there’s plenty I can’t do, and won’t do, just so you know.” Her voice was strong, convicted, and I could tell she was distancing herself from what was coming next.

  “I’m sure I can help you get over whatever fears hold you back.” I needed her to stay in this with me, wanted her to be willing to learn what I liked.

  Fifteen minutes.

  I watched her eyes as she took a small bite of food and swirled her spoon around in the bowl.

  “I’m sure you’ll try,” she muttered to herself.

  “What are you most scared of?”

  “Anything that’ll hurt?” She set her spoon down with shaky fingers. “Normal people don’t include torture devices in the definition of sexual pleasure.”

  “Normal can be defined as having average intelligence, within a normal range. What I do will take you out of the zone of normal, or regular, and raise you to a level you didn’t know was possible.” Ava seemed to think about this, so I continued, her willingness to listen spurring me on. “Why would I want to hurt you?” The thought made me angry — how could she think me capable of hurting her?

  Doms had to make sure not to hurt their subs, as the sub’s well-being was a Dom’s responsibility.

  “Because I’m guessing you get off on it,” she stated plainly, staring at the spoon in her hand that was now dripping orange liquid. “S equals sadism, right? And sadism means to be deliberately cruel. It means getting pleasure from inflicting pain and suffering on someone else. Inflicting humiliation. Right?”

  Did the girl have a Webster’s dictionary in her head?

  “That’s one part of the definition, but as I told you before, BDSM is different for everyone. I don’t get off on hurting people, I promise. I derive sexual pleasure from pleasing others but in unexpected ways. Ways that heighten your senses so that everything we do together is more powerful. I promise we’ll go slow, I won’t let you be afraid.” I was trying to sound as reassuring as I possibly could.

  “I’m also afraid of being
degraded. I’ve spent my whole life…” Her hand flew to her mouth and tears filled her eyes.

  Shit.

  I moved closer to her and took her hand. “I’d never degrade you,” I whispered, realizing it was true, and kissed her hand to show my goodwill.

  I had to turn this around before the buzzer, because I was so ready for her, but I could tell she was in no way ready for me.

  “I’m so fond of you, Ava. You’re unique, unlike any woman I’ve ever dated. I’d never hurt them, and I’d certainly never hurt you. I promise. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes glassy, the shimmer making darker slivers of blue stand out.

  “In my opinion, you haven’t had enough partners to know the limits of your body. You may be surprised by what turns you on, makes you orgasm. I promise to actively explore all of it with you. We have a lot of time together, and I hope we can enjoy it. However, I can’t have fun until I know you feel safe with me.” It surprised me how good it felt to be honest with her about my desires.

  “Do you promise not to make me feel demeaned?”

  “Yes, I promise. I promise to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt in your life.” I gave her a reassuring smile.

  She returned the smile — it was small, but enough.

  Two minutes on the clock.

  I inched closer. “I’ll make you come so hard, you’ll scream until you’re hoarse.” I let my smile change into devilish and followed her eye line as it went to the timer, slowly ticking forward.

  My heart was racing. I needed to temper my emotions. I didn’t want to transfer this searing need to Ava and scare her off.

  Tick. Tock. Tick.

  Her breathing was the only other sound — short sputtering breaths.

  I could barely take it.

  Less than thirty seconds.

  My eyes caught hers as I tried to control my own breathing. Neither of us spoke. God knew, my throat was about clenched closed with tension.

  “Please be gentle,” she begged as the buzzer sounded.