Taste It

by Sommer Marsden

Jill banged and banged and then when the door swept open she let out a squawk. Damn again!

  ‘Well hello there, Soapy Soaperson.’

  ‘I – um … shit.’

  ‘Good to know.’

  More horrified silence and then a soft swish-splat sound of shampoo foam hitting the hallway carpet. ‘What I meant was shit it’s you!’ she said boldly.

  ‘Yep. My room, I tend to be the one here.’

  ‘Can you please … never mind.’

  She turned to go and then hissed when even more foam slid into her eye. God that burned. His big arm stopped her as he did a shuffling sidestep like a football player and cut her off. His. Big. Arm. The one she was constantly fixated on in the deliberation room.

  ‘Go get in my shower before you go blind.’ His voice was deep and friendly and amused.

  At first she had a fleeting fear that he meant blind from masturbation. Then she realised it was a soap bubble reference and a relieved snort-giggle-guffaw burst out of her. Sexy.

  Cole turned her with warm hands on her chilled shoulders. He pointed her toward the door of his suite and said, ‘March.’

  And then he swatted her on the ass. For the second time today.

  What gave him the ri … of all the ner … well, hell. It just felt good and it made her want him that much more. Damn him. This was a cooking competition, not a dating show. She really had to get her head on straight.

  Jill took the fresh towel he offered and when he smiled at her she totally ignored the gallop of her belly muscles. She completely ignored the urgent flutter of her cunt muscles. And she paid utterly zero attention to the fact that her nipples were so hard they damn near hurt.

  ‘Thanks,’ was all she said.

  In his shower, that smelled of the heady scent of whatever it was he used for cologne, she rinsed her hair and found his conditioner. Slathering it into her long black hair, she worked the ends. It had been too long since she’d been able to schedule time for a haircut.

  Rinse off and get the hell out of Dodge. Being so close to … him … is not a good idea.

  Yep. That was what she’d do. She found a razor and called out to him. ‘Chef Roberts!’

  Best to keep it professional.

  The door cracked and there he was – handsome face with eyes the colour of a fall sky behind big nerd glasses. His dark hair was cut very close to his skull almost military style and in the bright light of the bathroom fixture, she could see some rogue flecks of sterling silver in it.

  ‘Yes, Chef Calvert?’ He grinned at her and cocked an eyebrow and her traitorous clitoris thumped hard like a rabbit kicking between her legs. It took Jill a moment to register that it was matching the thump of her runaway heart.

  ‘May I use this to shave?’ Jill waggled the blue disposable razor at him and completely ignored the fact that her hands were trembling. Because she was naked and wet, and he was in the room and his smell was in her head and … well, nothing but a flimsy bit of plastic separated them.

  ‘What are you shaving?’

  Again she had a dumb moment and she blinked at him. When he chuckled she narrowed her mouth and pinched her lips together with annoyance. ‘My legs.’

  ‘Sure thing … Chef.’

  And then he left.

  Jill hmphed with annoyance – more at herself than him – and set about shaving.

  It was only when she was done and drying off that she really got nervous. Because a) she was in his room for God’s sake and b) she had no clothes. She’d walked over in her towel.

  ‘Well, hell,’ she sighed.

  When a knock sounded on the door, she jumped.

  Chapter Three

  ‘I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT need these.’ He handed her a pair of navy blue Virginia sweatpants and a white long sleeve tee advertising Twisted Squid.

  ‘Thanks.’ All the air rushed out of her lungs when he touched her.

  ‘Welcome.’

  ‘I … I’ll just go put these in … I mean on!’

  He chuckled and she slammed the bathroom door. She wrapped her hair in a towel, pulled his gigantic tee over her head and then his sweatpants. They were huge. Fuck, he was huge. She tied off the waist as tight as she could and then rolled it over to tighten the sweats further, the ankles she simply rolled up so she didn’t trip. Even at five ten, she was no match for his extra eight inches.

  Eight inches …

  ‘Oh my God, you pervert stop!’ she yelped.

  ‘Pardon?’ he called through the door.

  ‘Nothing! Be out in a moment.’

  She stared herself down in the mirror and said softly, ‘Calm down, you mental woman.’

  Then she opened the door and smiling like an idiot started, ‘Thanks so much for your help. I meant to go left but I went chest …’

  Damn!

  ‘Chest?’ he asked, pulling on a fresh tee. He’d been standing there in his half naked glory, flat belly, hard smooth chest, flat man nipples that she had the crazed urge to reach out and tweak. And he’d turned her word right into the word chest by blinding her with his studliness.

  Damn. Him.

  ‘I mean right. I mean left! No right!’ she stammered.

  He finished covering his nakedness – thank God – even as she squeezed her thighs together hard. Bad move. It only made her need worse.

  ‘Are you OK?’ He advanced and she took a step back. Hitting the ugly wallpaper that decorated the suites.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You’re flushed.’

  ‘Hot water.’

  ‘You’re breathing hard.’

  ‘Asthma,’ she blurted.

  ‘Really?’ he cocked his head and leaned in a bit. There was less than a foot between them now.

  Jill’s body gave up another rush of moisture and she stifled groaning aloud. Up close he was even better looking. Big – actually, looming was a better word – and handsome. A bit of a boyish thing going on there. But a masculinity that was stifling in such a close proximity. If you weren’t … getting any of that, so to speak.

  His eyes had settled on her chest and it was then that she realised that he’d given her a white shirt. A well worn white cotton tee that was apparently showcasing her spectacularly hard nipples.

  ‘Not really. No asthma,’ she breathed, feeling as if she actually did have asthma at the moment.

  ‘Are you cold?’ She could tell he tried to smile but failed. His voice had gotten much deeper, almost monstrous, and his eyes had gone a dark stormy greyish-green.

  ‘No. I’m burning up.’

  ‘Because you look cold, Calvert,’ he said.

  And the world slowed down. Cole Roberts reached out, a single big finger, and advanced toward her chest. He was going to touch her through the tee she wore.

  Touch. Her.

  And he was giving her plenty of warning by moving slow and pinning her in that intense gaze so she could say no. Stop. Don’t.

  Instead she simply swallowed hard and took a step towards him. Her small shuffle-step speeding his course and his finger was on her and it felt like heat was blazing a trail from tit to cunt. A lightning bolt of lust forked through her gut and her pussy and for the first time in a very long time, Jill did not wait and do nothing. She acted.

  ‘You are hot,’ he barely managed when she stood on tiptoe and crushed her mouth to his mouth.

  His lips were a petal pink against his tan skin. They were almost – but not quite – feminine in their lushness and she had been fixated on them for days. Awake and asleep. So when her lips touched his and she felt the silkiness of that skin she sighed into his mouth.

  Cole took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He braced the back of her towel-wrapped head with one hand and settled the other possessively on her hip. His thumb stared a slow back and forth sweep that made her wish the tee she wore would dissolve.

  His tongue was warm and his kiss was breathtaking. He nudged a knee between her legs and pressed his thigh to her pelvis. The kiss of muscled flesh against her cli
t – even clothed – was bliss. A small hitch took up residence in her chest and he smiled but kept kissing her.

  When he did pull back his eyes had gone darker still and were hooded with lust. ‘Last chance.’

  She moved and the pressure against her clit increased. He pushed his thigh in a bit more to meet her and heat surged to her cheeks and her breath sharpened.

  ‘Last chance for what?’ Jill asked. It was nice not to be worried about secret ingredients or plating or beating that dreadful red clock of doom that ticked off the time for their competitions.

  All she was worried about – all she’d narrowed down to – was the feel of his biceps gripped in her hands and his leg trapping hers a bit wide. So that he could insinuate himself there.

  ‘To leave. Or I’m taking you. Right here, right now. We’ve been doing this flirty enemy dance for a while now.’

  ‘But you’re my only real competition.’

  ‘So you can’t like me?’

  She frowned. ‘No. Not now. It’s distracting.’

  He nudged her with his leg and pulled her head forward for one more kiss. Deeper. More intense. He thrust his tongue and tangled it with hers and it made her wonder what he could do with it … elsewhere.

  ‘Not even for an hour?’

  His big hands – hands she’d seen chop and peel and shuck and sauté – pushed up the small swell of her belly, along her ribcage, up until he reached her breasts. And then his fingers closed on her already hard nipples and he pinched. Hard enough that she saw tiny little dots of light in her field of vision. Hard enough that her throat tickled with the intense sensation. Hard enough that she lost her reasoning and simply said, ‘OK. But just for an hour.’

  ‘Take your clothes off.’

  ‘Technically they’re your clothes.’

  ‘Take my clothes off,’ he said but beat her to the punch and yanked the tee over her head and tossed it on a chair.

  He powered on and slowly stripped off the sweats he’d just loaned her. She felt each whisper of cool air brush her skin as he tugged them down what felt like a millimetre at a time.

  ‘Lord,’ she sputtered and felt her thighs trembling with anxiety and desire.

  ‘You can just call me Cole,’ he said and sat on his king sized bed. Cole traced her hipbone with the tips of his fingers. One big digit sported a single flesh coloured band aid. Jill had one on her pinky. They were always cutting themselves or grating off knuckles or burning their fingers.

  She blew out a breath when he reached between her legs and touched her. His fingers tickled over the hard knot of her clit and then slipped along her soaked hole to dip inside of her.

  ‘You are seriously wet, Jill Calvert.’

  ‘I just got out of the shower,’ she countered. They both knew it was a lie.

  He pulled her wrist so she dropped to his lap, feeling the ridge of his cock below her bottom. He was hard. And big.

  He put his damp finger to her lips and she smelled her own scent. ‘Taste it,’ he said.

  She opened her mouth for him and he pressed her own juices to her tongue. Then he tugged the towel free of her hair, wrapped his hand in her long damp locks and pulled her in for yet another staggering kiss. ‘That is not from the shower, Chef,’ he said.

  Time to cop to it.

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘What’s it from?’ he rocked her back and towards the bed as he said it.

  It was only when she said, ‘You. It’s from you, Chef,’ that he stood and stripped off his brand new tee and then shoved down his jeans. His cock stood out in a rigid column along the front of his grey boxer briefs and she reached out to touch him, gently running her fingers along the line of his hard-on.

  He made a gruff noise in his throat and pushed her back, covering her with his bulk. She wasn’t small but next to him she felt it. She felt damn near tiny as his frame crushed over hers.

  He found her with his hand, cupping her sex. Just cupping it. The heat of his hand a heady reminder of what they were going to do. Jill found herself moving up into his cupped hand to try and force his fingers to touch her.

  He laughed. ‘You are entirely headstrong and fantastic, do you know that?’

  She shook her head and kissed him just to shut him up. ‘Don’t talk. Touch me.’

  So he did. Swirling wet circles on her distended clit using her own slippery moisture to add to the sensitivity. He dipped a finger and then three into her and fucked her gently with his fingers before kissing a line of heat from her throat to her navel.

  ‘Part your legs.’

  ‘No time, no time,’ she said and toed his erection with her big toe. Her toenails were painted a brazen red. Perfect. She felt pretty damn brazen.

  His face went stern and he made a dark noise but then leaned over her to fumble in the top drawer of the suite’s nightstand. He had to paw and paw and paw through what seemed like tons of stuff before victoriously sitting up with a condom.

  ‘Jeesh,’ she snorted but her fingers were hooked in his boxer briefs and she was stripping him bare.

  ‘Hey, I came to cook not have sex with a beautiful woman.’

  ‘You think I’m beautiful?’ she asked, suddenly shy. She wiggled on his bed and watched him watch her. His eyes tracked her movement with an almost predatory glee.

  ‘I think you left beautiful behind about six bus stops ago. Calvert, you are fucking stunning.’

  Her initial reaction – as of late, at least – was to balk at his praise. Instead, she bit her tongue and shut the fuck up and watched him roll the condom on. All of her was hungry for him. Her entire being was simply pulsing to be entered by this man. She thought a good orgasm or three would help them both tomorrow. Tomorrow was the final competition. Then it would just be two. Jill had a feeling the two would be her and Cole.

  ‘Stop thinking about it,’ he said, reading her mind.

  ‘Make me stop thinking about it,’ Jill said and reached for him.

  He entered her slowly. Pushing past her slippery opening with a gentle kind of urgency that made her belly dip like she was on a roller coaster. He held her knees high, pressed in his big hands, and he pried them apart enough so that he could watch himself slide into her willing body.

  It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She chewed her lip and when he glanced up to her and smiled, seated fully then, she smiled back.

  ‘Kiss me, please,’ she said, all blush and manners.

  ‘You don’t have to say please.’ He laughed and spread himself out over her, his elbows the only thing keeping his big body from crushing hers.

  Instead of feeling claustrophobic, she felt fucking safe beyond belief. An odd, odd feeling for Jill.

  Her legs now free, she wrapped them around his taut waist. His cock titillated every fat bundle of alert nerve endings in her cunt so that Jill felt hers pelvis rising up to meet him. It was a mindless, involuntary thing – her body simply seeking the heat and pressure and pleasure of his.

  ‘I needed this,’ she confessed with a slight chuckle.

  ‘Me too. I’ve been having dirty fantasies about you since day one,’ he said, his lips pressed to her ear – so close that the heat of his breath made her shiver. Goose flesh raced across her skin and her nipples went so hard she felt them raking his warm chest with each thrust.

  ‘Dreams,’ she said, hooking her ankles behind his back.

  ‘Dreams?’ Cole began to rock side to side and it touched things he had not been touching before.

  The pleasure was almost unbearable and a brutally violent release shot through her. She came with his lips pressed against hers as he tasted every single sound that flew past her lips.

  ‘I’ve been having dirty, dirty, dirty dreams about you,’ she confessed. She was breathless and restless and her body rippled like calm water under high wind.

  He pulled out and Jill craned her neck. ‘Where are you–’

  But that was as far as she got because the sexy food god that was Cole Roberts was li
cking a wet line from between her breasts down to her belly button. He dipped his tongue in the shallow divot and made her tremble with the suddenness of a hot flash that quickly shifted to a chill. Her entire body was off kilter thanks to him. And it was utter bliss.

  The ridge of his teeth hit her first, pressing with just enough force into her mound. His tongue soothed the slight bite of pain from his teeth with broad licks and when Jill found herself thrusting up – quite unmannerly – to meet his seeking tongue, he moved. Nibbling her clit with just enough zing to make her stretch her arms and grip his big shoulders with her hands.

  ‘Oh God. Oh fuck.’ She felt like a porn movie cliché but there it was. The most brilliant thing she could say as he dipped the rigid tip of his tongue into her cunt.

  He laughed, the rumble of it rushing up the fragile skin of her inner thigh and adding to the spasms in her pelvis.

  ‘That’s the first time I’ve heard you lose your cool the whole time we’ve been here. You were very even keeled the last time I met you too.’

  She felt the hardness of his cock press her inner calf but he took his time – no rush – just like in the kitchen. Cole placed gentle kisses up her leg and her entire body readied for him again. She was primed.

  ‘I didn’t think you remembered that,’ she said softly as his lips trailed warmth over one hipbone and then the other.

  His hands almost spanned her waist they were so large – and she was no stick figure. It was a nice feeling, the heated weight of his hands on her.

  ‘Of course I remember that. The Eastern Seaboard Cooking Demo. And you were fierce with your hair up in that weird bun and those chopsticks stuck in the gorgeous mess of it all and …’

  Jesus. Jill thought she might come just from him recalling the event. But when he palmed her breasts and pinched her nipples and a quick shiver-burst-flash of joy sizzled along her skin she shook her head and rolled.

  ‘Where are you going?’ He chuckled. It had a sexy villain quality to it that made her smile.

  Jill pushed her bottom up and her shoulders down. She settled her cheek on his soft white sheets and said over her shoulder something she was usually too shy to say. She liked it this way and it was scary but liberating to just come right out and ask the very first time with a man.