Again I nod only once. I’m lost for words. He’s seducing and adoring me, making our time together all about me.
He pops the first button, and I can’t help but suck in a breath. He lightly pulls the zip down, and I feel my heart pounding against my chest. He bends and slides my jeans down my legs, and I grab onto his hair, fisting my hand in it as I bring him closer to me.
He lifts my legs, one at a time, and removes my jeans. Standing, he folds them and places them on top of my shirt.
When he turns back to me, the hunger in his eyes has turned scorching. The blaze is beyond control and I can tell he’s hanging on for dear life.
“I will undress you, and I will care for you,” he says. His French accent is heavy, his tone so wanton.
“Okay,” I murmur, my body reacting to his words, my mind filling with a light cloud.
Pierre moves behind me, only his fingertips making any contact with my skin as he unclips my bra and lets it fall down my body. I want to hide away and bring my arms up in front of me to cover me, but he’s making me feel cherished and wanted. I know it’s a stupid reflex. I shouldn’t be ashamed of my body. I may be soft in areas and slightly on the large side, but I’m one hundred percent woman and a hundred and ten percent me. This is who I am. If that’s an issue for him, I’d rather know it now.
“Magnifique,” he moans. I didn’t hear him come to stand in front of me, nor did I notice when he dropped to his knees in front of me. I’m trembling from arousal and excitement.
Pierre hooks his thumbs into the sides of my panties, and looking up at me, he smiles. He slips the panties down my legs, but not once does he look away. I can see how his chest is heaving quickly, his mouth is open and he’s desperately trying to pull air into his lungs. His undeniable lust for me is obvious. His eyes alone could eat me up, and his flame-hot fingers leave a path of pebbly goose bumps down my body.
The air sizzles with a raw, insatiable desire. Pierre’s gaze finally leaves my eyes, the scorch of his orbs tracing a path down my body. Like a laser burning my skin, I feel an all-encompassing, irresistible tractor beam joining us together.
“I love a woman who’s neatly kept.” He leans in and glides his nose back and forth across my trimmed pubic hair.
My chest pounds from sheer anticipation and the fact he’s not yet touched me is charging me to a high edge of anticipation. “Kiss me,” I moan as I grip his hair and snap his head back, leaning down to lick his lips.
“Non, I cannot do that,” his voice sounds tight, almost like he’s in pain.
“Pierre, please don’t make me wait,” I shamelessly beg. I need him; I want him.
“Get in the bath, Holly,” he commands me as he stands and holds his hand out to help me into the tub.
My brain is fried, well and truly blistered from the intense, intimate, and sensual way Pierre is caring for me. I take his hand and climb into the bath, sitting as gracefully as possible and leaning against the back rest to just relax.
Pierre’s hands go into the water, and he begins to run a cake of soap over my body. Starting at my feet, he swirls it around, the water making soft lapping sounds against the bathtub. Small guttural groans come from Pierre as he focusses on each part of my body as he washes. As his hands move closer to my sex, his jaw tightens and his breathing increases.
I open my legs and let him wash me. He only skims my pussy with the soap, but on the return his finger grazes me as he slips it inside me and quickly removes it.
“Ohhh,” I breathe, feeling his presence inside me for no more than a few seconds. My eyes close and I push my hips toward his hand, hoping he’ll do that again.
“You like that, do you?” he asks as his finger penetrates inside me again.
“So much,” I moan as I grind myself on his hand.
“I like you wet.”
Oh God.
“More please, Pierre.”
“May I do this?” he adds a second finger and I feel his thumb on my clit.
“Oh, God yes. Please keep doing that.”
He takes his fingers out of me, and I whimper with loss. My throat is tight and I’m raggedly trying to catch my breath.
With the soap in his hands, he travels further up to my breasts, where he lathers them, paying particular attention to my nipples. Pulling them between his fingers, rolling them, and massaging my breasts.
“This is too much, I need you inside me.” Christ, I sound like a horny teenager. And I don’t give a damn.
“Not yet, mon chéri. There is so much more I have planned for tonight. When you come, I want you to tremble around me. To whimper my name while I break you into many pieces, then I will kiss all the parts back together again.”
I swallow at the dryness in my throat.
I mewl with longing, and I eagerly crave more. More of him inside me, on me. Just more.
“I need to go finish dinner. Take your time in here. When you finish there is a towel over there.” He points to the rack of towels. “That is all I want you to wear.” He stands and gives me a kiss on the lips, not deepening it, just soft and pure. “And to ensure you listen to me, I will be taking your clothes.” He sweeps them up, gives me a deviant smile, and leaves.
As I lay back in the bath, I can’t help but imagine how he’s going to be. He’s been incredibly attentive and caring so far. I can just imagine what else he has planned for me, and wonder how his tongue will feel, or the hardness of his rigid cock as he thrusts inside me. My fingers begin to caress my skin around my tummy, closing my eyes and enjoying the thoughts of what I hope he’ll be like. How he’ll take me, bend me, and carve his body into me.
“Do not touch yourself,” he says frightening and shocking me. I didn’t hear the door open or him step back into the bathroom.
I feel my skin burn with embarrassment as I try and look away. “S-sorry,” I stutter, mortified.
“Non, you should not be ashamed. I did enjoy the glimpse you gave me. I look forward to watching you pleasure yourself. I hope it will happen one day soon, but for now, it is my job to show you pleasure.”
“Okay.” What the hell else can I say?
“I will call you soon for dinner. It is almost ready. Please, enjoy my bath, but do not fuck your fingers.” He closes the door and leaves.
And I’m so close to exploding, I’m not sure how I’m going to survive tonight.
TWENTY-FOUR
Pierre
Merde!
I look down at my knuckles gripping the kitchen island counter, and they’re shaking and ghostly white from my intense grasp.
I turn my head and look over my shoulder toward the bathroom. It’s taking everything inside me not go in there, tilt her head back and have her swallow my rock-hard cock. I jacked off in the shower before she got here because I didn’t want an uncomfortable, raging hard-on, but that all went out the window. The moment I saw the perfect triangle of immaculately trimmed hair on her pussy, I almost lost it right then.
Her body is wicked; her curves are mouth-watering. I cannot wait to run my tongue down the softness of her hips, push her legs apart and submerge my hungry tongue inside her beautiful, hot pussy. I want her to lace her fingers in my hair again, lose control as she drives her hips against my face so I can savour the taste of her arousal.
Snap out of it, Pierre. Get a grip.
I need to take my mind off her before I lose it.
Straightening my back, I regain the slender thread of control I have left. But the images of her touching herself when I walked back into the bathroom, and the small moans of excitement coming from her are hard to keep at bay. And truthfully, I do not want to retire them. I want to preserve and remember them for the times she cannot be here with me.
I take the tomato, mango and cucumber salsa out of the fridge and crispy chicken I made earlier. Chopping the chicken into small, bite-size pieces, I return them to a bowl. I check on dessert and smile. This is going to be the best dessert I’ve ever eaten.
I walk back to the
bathroom, but before I open the door I count to ten slowly, making sure I’m under control and my body isn’t going to defy my plans for tonight.
I don’t bother knocking, and I’m blessed with the most appealing sight I’ve seen in a long time.
Holly is relaxed in the bathtub. One leg is hooked up over the side. Her eyes are closed and her arms are on the edge of the tub as she smiles. She’s not heard me yet, so I take the grace of these minutes to appreciate her.
Her legs have the nicest tone to them, the swell of her breast is luscious although the size is rather large. But I am a man, and to complain about the size of a woman’s breast or derrière is just wrong. I love that her hips are soft, because I look forward to the time I have her bent over the kitchen island, with one of her legs propped up against the bar stool as I drive into her from behind. I’m most certainly going to enjoy the noises I hope she makes, the breathy whimpers, the small cries of pleasure.
“Pierre,” she says as I hear the water slosh and she moves her leg back into the bathtub.
“Excusez-moi, I was admiring this glorious woman who is taking up residence in my bath. Though dinner is ready, please join me.” I turn to leave before I fuck her.
“Pierre,” she calls to me. I still my step, but damn if it is not virtually impossible to control myself. I do not turn around to look at her, for I do believe I would lose the small restraint I still have over my desire.
“Oui.”
“What can I wear?”
“The towel,” I chuckle because she has no idea what I have in store for her.
“Seriously, what can I wear?” she challenges me. Always trying to gain the upper hand.
“I am serious.” I walk out before I am forced to fuck her here in the bathroom.
Going back to the kitchen, I arrange the food on a large white platter. I go to my family room, grab a small cushion and take it into the dining room before going to the kitchen to grab the platter with food.
“Pierre, I can’t just wear a damp towel the entire night.” I swing around and see her standing with just the fluffy red towel around her body. The colour of the towel against her heated skin looks sublime. It makes her radiate a perfect glow of happiness.
“Oui, you are right. Please come into the dining room.”
She follows behind me, and I can hear her mumbling something as she steps in. “Um, do you want me to help you set the table?”
“Oui, I do. Wait one moment.” I put the food platter down, take the silken blindfold out of my back pocket and walk over to her.
“What are you doing?” she asks, apprehensively. Her eyes full of doubt, her breath hitching.
“Eating the meal I’ve prepared all day.” Her chocolate brown eyes look at me and she worries a smile. “Trust me,” I add in a whisper.
I run the smooth material over her shoulder and let it skim around her neck. As the stress in her body leaves, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “It is only material.” I nip on her ear, lulling her into total relaxation around me.
I tickle her back with the edge of the threads, and I hear Holly swallow hard as a small moan of pleasure escapes her pouty mouth. “Is this okay?” I ask as I lift the blindfold up and start to tighten it around her.
“Yes,” she says in no more than a husky sigh.
“You need to trust me. All I want to do is feed your body, lighten your soul, and make your pussy climax with delight.”
“Oh God.”
Slowly, I run my hands down her cheeks, placing a kiss on her mouth as I trace her lips with my tongue.
“Mmmm,” she groans. It’s a sexy noise that goes directly to my cock. I’m hard and I want her.
Using only my fingertips, I faintly trace the curves of her shoulder blades and her collarbones until I’m holding the towel in my hands.
“Trust me.” I don’t ask; I command.
“Yes,” she answers as her tongue slips out to lick her bottom lip.
I take the end of the towel, and pull it away from her body.
“Oh God,” she cries again as she clenches her legs together, trying to hide from me.
Taking her hand in mine, I lead her the few steps to the dining table. “Sit,” I say as I carefully push her so her bottom is on the edge of the table.
“Is this the seat?”
“Stop talking, Holly. Just listen to my voice, and do what I say.”
“Pierre.”
“Shhhh, mon chéri, I will care for you.” She swallows hard, again. “I will lift your legs and put them up high. Swing your biteable bottom back some, so you do not fall off the table. I will not let you fall; just listen to me.” I lift her legs and can feel the tension in her body. Her legs are rigid and her hands are holding onto my shoulders as she digs her nails into me.
If only she knew what the pain of her nails in my skin is doing for my cock.
“Lie back. I will guide you,” I say once her legs are on the table. I grab the small cushion and place it under her head, as I cup her nape and guide her toward it.
“What’s happening?” she asks as she’s breathing nervously.
“I thought it was obvious.” I take a step back and watch as her body language seems to go through every emotion possible. She’s desperately trying to get air in her lungs, one leg is bent at the knee as one hand is holding onto the edge of the table in a death grip. Stepping closer, I lean down and run my tongue from her knee, all the way to her hip where I stop and nibble.
“Ohhh.” She reaches out to try and find me, but I return her arms to her sides and avoid her touch as I continue to lick her to her belly button. I dart my tongue inside her navel, then swirl it around the outside. Again, she grabs for my hair, but I move away and continue licking all the way up her torso to her nipples.
I flick the left one, lift my head, and blow. It’s the most sensuous thing to watch her nipple elongate and her areola pucker from no more than the air I breathe touching her.
“Pierre,” she breathlessly moans.
“Shhh, I will look after you.” I move my mouth to her right nipple, take it in my mouth and teasingly bite. Pulling it between my teeth, she arches her back up, pushing her fantastic tits into my mouth.
“Ohh,” she gasps.
“I am hungry now. I hope you are too.”
“I’m starving,” she blurts. I chuckle because I know she’s not talking about food.
I pull the chair over and sit, admiring my human plate.
“Lay still.” With my hands, I grab some of the salsa and place it in the valley between her breasts. “Open,” I instruct as I tap her on the chin.
Holly opens her mouth, her tongue peeking out as she waits to eat by my hand. Scooping some salsa up, I place it on her outstretched tongue. “Close.” She obeys and begins to chew. Sexy noises come from deep within her chest.
When she finishes chewing, she opens her mouth, wanting more.
“Good?” I ask.
“Very tasty,” she says, then gives me a cheeky grin.
Vixen! She is toying with me. And I am loving it.
Leaning down, I lick around her nipples and Holly gasps. Moving my mouth, I eat the salsa off her chest, taking my time to suck, nibble and lick all the skin below. “Oh non, this will not do. The mango juice has dripped down your ribs. What will I do?” I tease, knowing full well I will be tasting every square inch of her skin.
“Mmm,” a rippling moan violently shudders through her. My cock strains with eagerness inside my jeans.
“Quiet, mon amour,” I command as I lick up the sweet, juicy nectar that has trickled down the side of her body.
Holly squeezes her mouth shut, her lips forming a thin line as she struggles to keep her sexy body from writhing around on my table.
Grabbing some of the crispy chicken, I draw it around her lips and her mouth opens as she patiently waits for me to feed her. “Do you want a taste?” I put the end of the piece of chicken in her mouth. She clamps down but I move it away before she can taste.
“Do you want a taste, Holly?” my voice drops in tone. I want her to plead, to beg for me to feed her.
“Yes, I do.”
I circle her greedy mouth with the chicken, just creating a light, scratchy feeling, rubbing the rough texture on her pouty lips. “Open,” I say, and she obeys.
I put my thumb in her mouth and she pins it with her teeth, swirling her tongue as she sucks and massages me with her mouth. I press in further, and she mewls, desperate for more.
“Please, I want you.” Her back arches and she claws at my arm, ravenous for me to consume.
“Not yet.”
But dear Lord, it is hard to hold back. To have this sexy woman splayed out in front of me, pleading with me to take her. I want so badly to get lost in her slick folds and fuck her until she screams my name.
I pull my hand away and place two pieces of chicken on her belly. They barely stay as her body is heaving aggressively it’s hardly able to remain on the table.
She’s just about to come, and there’s no doubt in my mind when I finally touch her pussy, her body will uncoil forcefully.
“Open.” I place the chicken to her lips and when she opens she’s rewarded with a piece.
I lean down, sucking on her belly and nipping at the skin. I’m gifted with her hands in my hair, she tugs at the strands and scratches at my scalp, all while I’m dragging my raspy tongue around her sensitive skin. Skilfully I nuzzle, engulfing her while I travel down toward the lustful triangle of hair.
“Ohhh,” just a tiny whimper as she bucks her hips up toward me. “More, I need more, Pierre.” She tightens her grip in my hair. It feels unbelievable, knowing she wants me and is enjoying what I am doing to her.
“I have to get dessert. Do not move a muscle, do you understand?” I stand but wait for her to respond before I go to the kitchen. But I’m met with silence. “I said, do you understand?”
“Aha,” is all she can manage to say.
Going to the refrigerator, I take out the two bowls, and the one small clip-lock container. Seeing Holly spread out is nothing short of glorious. “I’m going to move you.” I put the dessert down, and gently guide her to swing her body around.
Monster Chef Page 14