Cravings

by Dee Carney

  “That gorgeous pussy ready for me?” It came out in a growl.

  The sound of foil tearing moved through the air, and her heart thudded with understanding. “Yes…”

  Moisture coated the inside of her thighs, her pussy swollen with readiness. Despite every urge to touch her clit, to relieve the tension stringing her body tight, waiting for Lee made the seconds of torture worthwhile.

  From the way she was folded over the desk, her breath tickled her face as it bounced away from the wooden surface. Every part of her tingled, skin and scalp included. Tension coiled around her body, squeezing until her breath grew ragged. Much more waiting and she wouldn’t survive it.

  Lee’s lips touched down on her nape, and she turned into the sensation. He’d found a secret thrill spot that made her wobbly kneed. It distracted her from focusing on the way his fingers threaded in hers, together forming a fist, one that tightened as she felt him position behind her.

  Ginger’s low moan couldn’t be helped.

  Although slick, her pussy strained at the intrusion of his latex-covered cock. His motion was glacial, pushing inside her with such languid ease her breath held and time stood still. It afforded her nothing else to focus on but the way delicate tissues strained to receive him. Lee’s pace was achingly lazy, the tight glove of her pussy yielding beneath every inch he gave.

  “Jesus,” she whispered.

  Lee’s withdrawal made her heart ache and ratcheted up her need for him. This wasn’t fucking. It was a claiming. Tomorrow she would remember each second of the way he pierced her. Every muscle would scream in memory of how she’d tensed beneath him.

  He continued to bite along her shoulder, stopping to suckle the skin if she gasped or cried out. All the while he pumped into her, pushing and withdrawing in such a way that she knew he would continue for hours. No rush. No frenzy.

  “Goddamn, you are tight, baby.” Wonder and surprise laced his words. His hand remained tight around hers. He squeezed it now.

  “Jesus.” It was a low hum.

  Lee angled his hips, tilting into her at a new angle. Whatever spot deep inside he touched made her see stars.

  He reached between her legs, thumb strumming her clit, and her vision erupted into starbursts. Eyes slamming shut, she rocked her hips, pursuing more sensation. Breath panting out of her, Ginger chased the pleasure Lee gave her.

  “That’s it,” he murmured. “Fuck me. Take what you need.”

  A soft moan, and she complied. Thigh muscles tight, she lifted her ass to Lee. Together they found a rhythm that kept her on a razor’s edge. Lee continued to thrum her clit, each touch threatening to send her careening off one side or the other.

  “What a sweet pussy. So wet.”

  Each whispered word teased her senses, the scrape of his rough stubble against her cheek another facet of sensation that kept her mind reeling. She loved that he was a talker; the dark words were so different from the prim chef she associated with most often.

  But as her inner muscles began to tighten around his tunneling cock, Ginger lost focus on dirty suggestions and prurient compliments. Her body arched, no longer capable of following her commands, and offered him a new angle to torment her with. To make her fly.

  “Oh…” Ginger cried out as ultimate release bombarded her on all sides. She strained against the way her body locked, hypersensitive to the way he felt inside her. Her clit pulsed with too much sensation. Arms and legs trembling, she saw darkness at the edge of her vision before realizing that Lee groaned long and hard, his body pushed deeply inside hers. She heard his gasps, his low, muttered curses. Felt the way he stiffened behind her.

  She didn’t know how long they stayed together like that, him curled over her as she lay splayed across the desk. There was comfort in the warmth he provided. Yet a few minutes later, she realized hard wood pressed against her breasts and belly. The edge of the desk cut into the tops of her thighs. Perspiration coated her skin, and she was damned uncomfortable.

  Lee’s breath had slowed from an erratic gallop back to its normal pace by the time he lifted himself off her. The blade of her shoulder received a brief kiss before Lee tenderly withdrew. She immediately regretted the loss.

  “How’s my pussy?” A sharp intake of breath from her as he thrust two thick fingers inside her. Ginger tilted her hips away from him, a gasp following as Lee brushed another sweet spot.

  She almost cried out, to tell him that it was too much—too soon—but he crooked those wicked fingers, a slow come-hither motion that made her toes curl and every bone in her body disappear. All that escaped her mouth instead was a soft sound, wanton. A plea for more.

  “I love the look on your face right now,” he whispered, lips skimming her overheated flesh. “I plan on seeing it all night.”

  Ginger reached behind her and brushed against his erection. Hot and hard, it startled her. An unexpected sign of his still-present arousal. He growled, a rough, grating sound that made her pussy flood. Primal and provocative.

  “All night, Ginger,” he said hoarsely. “All night.”

  A promise.

  He was hard again. Five thirty in the damned morning, and he was waking up like a kid. Hard and horny, despite the hours of activity earlier. Especially because of those hours, he supposed.

  He trailed a hand over the lush curves of Ginger’s body, again stunned that she was here with him. In bed with him. Naked. After an incredible night of loving. His intention wasn’t to wake her, but with the current state of his body, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if she roused. Then again, they’d dozed off only a short while ago, and she must have been exhausted. He wasn’t as young as he used to be either. Muscles that hadn’t seen use in some time screamed a reminder of that.

  But the delicate slope of her shoulder beckoned to him, so Lee pressed his lips to it. He tugged on the sheet, following its silky slide from her skin with more kisses.

  So yeah, maybe he did want her awake again. His dick wanted to play.

  Ginger groaned softly, inhaling deeply as she brought herself out of slumber. “Again? Don’t you ever get tired?”

  He loved hearing the huskiness in her voice. The sleepy satisfaction deep within. “Can’t stop touching you.”

  “Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “touch my shoulders all you want, but I think downstairs might be closed for repairs for another couple of hours, at least.”

  “Sore?”

  “Incredibly. Sorry.” She turned her head toward him, the white shine of the moon spilling across her cheeks. “It’s been a while.”

  His fingers drew a pattern down the contour of her spine, male pride keeping him buoyed. “Don’t be sorry. I get it. Long days and nights make finding someone who can keep up with those hours all but impossible.”

  She stretched, her breasts lifting high, drawing his attention. He couldn’t tell if the move was on purpose to tease him or accidental. When she sat up, leaving his touch, he grunted a protest.

  “Internal clock. It’s time to get up.”

  “We couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour. Are you serious?”

  A gurgling rumble emanated somewhere in her vicinity. “The tummy never lies. This is what time I normally get up, so I’m hungry.”

  His morning woody gone, he realized he was peckish as well. “All right, then. What should we feed you?”

  “I would kill for one of Christelle’s chocolate-hazelnut croissants and a steaming cup of coffee.”

  Surprise. “I was thinking more along the lines of a cheese-and-asparagus omelet prepared by moi, and maybe afterward, a little TLC to take care of all your sore spots.” The woody might be gone, but his jumpstarted brain hadn’t caught up yet. As frantic as last night had been, a little gentle and slow would be good for both of them this morning. He just couldn’t get enough of her.

  “Spare me, Lee. No one wants that frou-frou stuff first thing in the morning. People want good old-fashioned comfort food. I want comfort food. Chocolate. Pastry. Cof
fee. That’s a combination made in heaven.” She moved to him on hands and knees. A cat. After her tongue drew a long line over his abdomen, he would have given her the world to have her do it again. “Besides, it’s right around the corner and is faster than making something. We get there, grab some to go, then come back and…”

  “And?” His brow lifted, his attention focused.

  “While the kitty might be a little sore, there’s nothing wrong with my mouth…”

  Lee had never completed his morning ablutions so quickly before.

  Ginger was still laughing about the way he’d rushed her through a hasty shower and getting dressed while they walked to her place from Christelle’s, home of some of the best pastries in Tampa. Thankfully, like most bakeries he knew, they opened at an ungodly hour in order to present fresh breads and bagels to their clientele. Only other cooks and insomniacs wandered the streets at minutes to six.

  His place wouldn’t start seeing staff meander in until around noon, but often he came in before then to work in the blissful silence. Only on weekends did he have to venture in earlier for the lunch service they provided. Never before had he been so grateful that he hadn’t given in to the impulse to serve lunch regularly on the other days. It meant more time to spend with her today.

  “So,” Ginger said after taking a sip of her chicory coffee, “we still have to discuss what happens after this.”

  “After breakfast? I thought we had discussed it. Something to do with my favorite body part and your mouth.”

  Her lips quirked. “Not that. You know what I mean. Afterward. How do we go back to our restaurants without settling what should happen now that we’ve gotten sex out of our systems.”

  A wave of disappointment pushed through Lee. “You think that’s all we’re doing? Getting out of each other’s system?”

  “I don’t know what to think.” She took sudden interest in the cars they passed. The sun hadn’t crested the horizon yet, and the moon still provided a glow that made them seem ethereal. Lee suspected her interest had nothing to do with the beauty of their surroundings, though. “I just think we should have a serious discussion about us if you plan on taking this—whatever this is—any further.”

  “What’s the point of analyzing a potential relationship to death? Why not just go with the ebb and flow of things?”

  “Because I’d want it to work, and to make it work, we need to talk.”

  “I don’t agree. If you would stop for just a minute and look at how much we’re alike—”

  “We’re not.”

  “We are! Go a little deeper, look beyond the superficial. You and I are exactly alike, and that’s why we don’t need to spend so much time nitpicking who we are and what we’re doing.”

  “That’s not how it’s done. We need to talk because the ebb and flow of our lives in particular isn’t that smooth. We work in a fast-paced environment where it’s easy to burn out, take out frustrations on the people around us, and face it, we’re both hardcore in everything else. Intense. If we try to work a relationship into that mess, it’s hard to know what’ll happen.”

  “Ginger, you’re the one making this too hard. There’s nothing to work. Just let it be.” It wasn’t until she’d spun to face him, one hand balled on her hip, that he realized he’d been close to yelling. Kind of making a case for what she was saying.

  “See? This is what I mean! Arguing over nothing, really, and all because—”

  “Let’s go. Let’s get inside and talk this over rationally.”

  “Did you just cut me off?”

  Lee threw his head back, frustrated beyond belief. And over nothing! Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, centered and tried again. “We’re the only ones out here, darlin’. Let’s go inside with our coffee and pastry, where we can talk. Just like you want, okay?”

  Ginger huffed. “Fine,” she said before picking up speed.

  Fine. They’d go inside, start over. He wanted a relationship with her, one that went beyond sex, whether she believed that or not. The restaurants weren’t the biggest obstacles to having one; her ego was. Maybe his too.

  If he could start over, he’d never suggest Food Fighters but instead find a way to capture her attention without the competitive atmosphere. He wouldn’t bully his way into her world. She deserved finesse and refinement, not thuggish strong-arming.

  What was it about this woman that she managed to bring out the worst in him when he needed to be at his finest?

  “Hey.” Lee caught up to Ginger, a few short steps ahead of him. With tender care, he grasped her shoulder, tugging until she slowed to a stop. At first, he didn’t think she would face him, but with a loud sigh, she followed through. She would not, however, come to him, but that didn’t matter. Lee stepped into her space, wrapping his arms around her. Holding her close. “I’m sorry. Let’s not turn last night into a bad morning. We’ll go in; we’ll eat. We’ll talk and make it work, okay?”

  His eyes closed when, after a brief pause, her arms wrapped around his waist and squeezed him tight. Like before, he marveled at how good she felt. How perfect a fit.

  “Man, you got a dollar I could hold?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

  Both Lee and Ginger stiffened at the question directed at them. Sluggish instincts, ones he hadn’t relied on in a long time, awoke as if burned by a hot skillet. He went on immediate alert, assessing their situation and the precariousness of it in seconds. With as much casual ease as he could muster, he released Ginger from the tight hug. Her arms dropped away slowly, but if she was the slightest bit concerned about their audience, he couldn’t tell.

  “Don’t carry,” Lee said to the man wearing loose-fitting clothing. Largely hidden by a scraggly beard that could use a trim, his gaunt face set Lee’s nerves on edge. He hadn’t done anything threatening or even acted beyond polite, but something about him didn’t sit well with Lee. He knew why they were out here at this time of the morning, not late enough for the working class to begin drifting out of brownstones to start their days, but what was his reason?

  “What about you? Got any money?” He directed this at Ginger, displaying an uneven row of rotting teeth. Classic sign of a meth user.

  Lee used a single step to place himself closer to her and put some distance between the stranger and themselves. He nudged her elbow, a silent command to get moving. Just this once, he wanted her to follow his instruction without questioning him or pushing back.

  “Sorry,” she called with a smile.

  And thank God, she began walking.

  She sailed on, her expression guileless. He waited a beat, watching the man’s reaction before deciding he was being paranoid for nothing. Reluctantly, Lee turned his back to the man and followed, the hair on the back of his neck standing tall. He strained to hear movement behind them, any sounds at all. He just didn’t have a good feeling about this, and the same gut that encouraged him to serve bacon candy on top of a frisee and escarole salad stirred in agitation now.

  “C’mon, man, you gotta have some change.”

  Lee didn’t answer.

  “Then give me some food. What’s in them bags? Smell good.”

  “Keep going,” he muttered to Ginger. Turning, knowing he shouldn’t have put his back to him in the first place, Lee said, “Look, man—” His thoughts died as his gaze landed on the glint of metal now directed at him.

  “You had to pay for that stuff somehow,” the man said, voice tinny. “I know you got some money…you just keeping it from me…give me some money, dude…you don’t got none, she got some…or maybe you got a watch.”

  Eyes trained on the serrated blade of the knife, Lee extended his arms at his sides. Nice and easy. Slow. No need to get the man riled up and themselves hurt. “I’m not wearing a watch, but I’m going to reach for my wallet,” he said gently, “then it’s all yours. The lady doesn’t have her purse or anything. I got what you need.”

  It would be a pain in the ass to replace the driver’s license, but with only one c
redit card and roughly forty dollars otherwise tucked inside the flimsy leather, he could afford to hand it over. The man’s eyes were clear, bright, and with the new sun beginning to rise, it gave Lee more opportunity to memorize his face. Not that he planned on doing anything with the info in a city of this size, but it gave him a place to focus. If instead he tried to figure out what Ginger was doing during all this, he might be tempted to do something stupid.

  On cue, as if she’d heard his thoughts, she called, “Hey, we going?”

  The man leaned, his gaze narrowing and going beyond Lee, and that he could not allow. “Eyes on me.” He kept his voice low, hopefully mesmerizing. “It’s right here in my back pocket.”

  He was ignored. “She got any jewelry? She probably got some jewelry…nice jewelry…or some money…she got money, I know it.”

  Lee tuned out the sounds of the streets coming to life. Prayed he didn’t hear the soft footfalls of Ginger’s shoes on pavement. Moving closer. “No. Nothing. Just me and my wallet. Take it and go.”

  “Nah, man… I know she got something…she got something.”

  “Lee?”

  Ginger’s voice seemed to come from right behind him now, and Lee knew there would be trouble. Knew. He held out his wallet, waving it to catch the man’s twitchy attention. “Take it. Go.”

  When he tried to get Ginger to understand that he knew a lot about being a regular Joe, she didn’t get it. Long before he knew about matsutake mushrooms and Almas caviar, he’d hung out with shade-tree mechanics and construction workers. He’d also gotten comfortable with the guys running numbers and one or two more into the hardcore stuff. The thugs. He’d picked up a few pointers.

  There was movement at his side. Ginger tugging on his arm. The tweaker started forward.

  Lee reacted.

  What he hadn’t anticipated was the loud yelling from Ginger. Metal slashing the air. The explosion of pain in his palm.

  Bright red blood.