“What are you doing to do after you make me come?” She was so close, I could hear it.
“I’m going to lay you on the bed and play with your tits, finger you until you come on my hand, and when I’m done, I’ll sit on your face.”
That was what did it. She stiffened and sucked hard on my tongue as her hips convulsed against me. I kept my hand on her mons, not wanting to leave her heat just yet, as we kissed lazily.
She spoke first, after she’d leaned back to look at me. She looked like a cat that ate all the cream. “I knew you’d be filthy.” You would’ve thought she’d won the lottery. “And I’m going to let you know right now, there’s no fucking way we’re not doing this again, like, a lot over the next three days.”
That hit me like a sucker punch. Fuck. Three days, just three days.
Sully’s face changed too, probably realizing what she’d said, and immediately she went back in for another kiss. This time sliding us down the headboard until we were lying on the bed. She reached for the hem of my shirt, but stopped before taking it off. “May I?”
I nodded and went for the button on her shirt. She looked at me with an intensity I could feel on my skin and moved to lift my shirt over my breasts. “Kiske, I want you so bad.” She just said things. Just let me know she wanted me.
I wanted to say things too. That I already was feeling too much. That I knew this “stress-relief strategy” was going to ruin me. But I kept unbuttoning her shirt instead. I slid it off her shoulders, my eyes fixed on her dark brown areolas. She’d been running her thumbs over my nipples, and the frissons of pleasure from her light touch made me shiver. I wanted to ask that she move her hands farther south, but before I could, her palm was making its way down my belly as she kissed my neck. “I wanna come together.”
I nodded frantically, one hand already tugging at my sleep pants and underwear. “Take off your panties, Sully,” I demanded and she complied. In seconds, we were naked and pressed against each other, her full heavy breasts brushing my smaller ones. I felt like every nerve in my body was about to combust.
When she finally got to where I needed her, she made a sound like she’d just unwrapped her favorite treat. My pussy clenched.
“Oh shit, you’re bare.”
I grinned at how reverently she ran her fingers over my Brazilian. “I live in LA. It might be a city ordinance.” I joked as she kept caressing me.
With a grunt of appreciation the looked up, her face serious. “My regards to the city of angels.”
I just shook my head at her and I brought my knees up to give her better access. “Put your mouth on me, Sully.”
“What if I suck on your clit?” she asked hungrily, and again I was her prey. She sat up and I laid on my back, bare and open for her.
“Please,” I begged, my heart skittering with anticipation.
She got on all fours and leaned in to kiss me, and I grabbed her ass hard with both hands, fingers digging in as she moaned. I let my hands roam to her clit, her ass. Touching her with an urgency that built almost by the second. Her hands roamed too, one finger in my mouth, a hand at the base of my neck, possessive, frantic.
I’d never had sex like this; it was primal and reckless and I was already addicted. I kept fingering her, feeling my own pussy throbbing until I was ready to beg again. But before I could, she gave me one last kiss and crawled her way to where I needed her.
She lowered herself until her face was inches from my core. She glanced up and found me propped on one elbow, looking down at her.
“Glistening, and all for me.” Her voice was reverent, making me melt into a puddle under her gaze. She used two fingers to spread my lips and blew on my clit. I sucked my teeth and threw my head back at the sensation. But still her mouth was not quite...there.
“Lick it,” I demanded, as she slid the two fingers inside and nosed at the juncture of my thighs. “Come on, chula,” I coaxed as I placed a hand behind her head.
“Do I have you dripping, Kiskeya?” she teased, as she ran the tip of her tongue on the edge of my labia, centimeters from my clit.
“You know you do. Come on, baby. I’m aching.” That finally got me what I wanted, and when she started sucking on my clit, I sank into the bed, lost in what her mouth was doing to me. Within seconds, she had every nerve in my body on high alert. My entire world shrank down to what her tongue and fingers were making me feel, and the pleasure built and built. Radiating from my groin to my back, until my legs started shaking. When she pressed the flat of her tongue to my cunt and licked hard, within seconds my back lifted off the mattress, as I hoarsely screamed her name.
I must have lost time for a few seconds because when I came back to myself, her teeth were on my nipple, and she sounded smug. “Hey, look who’s back.”
“I think you broke me,” I gasped, wrung out and entirely wrecked.
She laughed, and I risked opening one eye. I found her looking at me with a goofy smile, her lips a little swollen and bruised from her efforts.
“I think we should make this our reward for the hard work we’re about to do for the next three days.” Her tone was light, but I could see the weariness in her eyes. She expected a rebuff. For me to freak out and tell her I didn’t want to risk our chances in the competition by getting caught up in this.
And I probably should have. Hell, I almost did. But when I reached for her, she came. When I kissed her mouth, it was musky with my taste, and her skin was hot like the island on summer days. I was not strong enough to say anything other than the truth.
“Why would we stop when we’re so good at it?”
Chapter 11
Sully
“We got this, chula,” I said, as I bumped fists with Kiskeya and went to work. The last thirty-six hours had gone by in a blur of baking, planning for day two, and getting up to serious sexy times behind closed doors. Once we’d started, it seemed hard to stop touching, kissing, and so much more. My head was a mess of recipes and preparation times all swirling with images of the things Kiskeya and I had done to each other. This morning, I’d woken up to her kneeling in front of me, ready to give me a mind-blowing good morning.
I gazed at her as her fingers kneaded the dough for the two challah wreaths we’d be making for our Showoff Showcase, and felt goose bumps break out all over my skin. I recalled how those same fingers had teased and pleasured me for what felt like hours, getting me right to the edge, and then revving me up again until I’d come so hard, I’d almost passed out.
“Sully.”
I almost severed my finger when she called me, I’d been so spaced out.
“Focus.” Her tone was friendly, but her eyes were serious. She was in the zone, and I needed to get my shit together and stop fantasizing about her hands.
“Did you start poaching the figs?”
Fuck. I shook my head, already moving to the stove. “I’ll start that now.”
The last challenge today were wreaths, so we’d decided to do two of them. One savory and one sweet. Both with Mediterranean flavors. I was in charge of preparing the fillings for the honey and fig sweet wreath, as well as the sundried tomato, fontina, and pesto for the savory. We were hoping the ingredients would make the loaves look festive and that—of course—they’d taste great.
I left the figs poaching in the Madeira port and honey mixture and turned back to make the pesto. “Figs are on. Do you need help kneading?”
She looked up from the dough she was wrestling into submission and shook her head. “I’m good. Thanks.”
I went back to my work, trying not to take it personally that she was back to acting like we were here to do a job together, and nothing else. Unlike me, Kiskeya didn’t seem to be driven to distraction by what we’d been doing. I knew it was crazy to be wondering if there was a way to make this work after we got back to the States. But I did it anyways. I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of her taking the apprenticeship in New York, if we won. Which we hadn’t.
“The figs,
Sully.” Shit. I ran to lower the heat on the bubbling saucepan and focused on chopping basil and making the pesto.
I pointed at the mixture in one of the two food processors I had on the counter. “Is this good?”
She looked up from kneading and nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’m going to let this proof, then start the jam.”
We worked in unison, anticipating the other’s needs or moving in to help when more than two hands were required, and soon we were cleaning up our stations while the wreaths baked.
“Do you think we did enough?” Kiskeya asked as she rinsed one of the hooks from the mixer.
I looked up at her from the pistachio marzipan holly I was forming for the sweet loaf.
“They asked for one wreath and we’re making two.” I looked at the Beccas who also had their loaf in the oven, but seemed oblivious to the fact that cleaning up after themselves was an option.
More than once over the past few days, I’d wondered if those two were up to something. Because each time they’d ended up coming up with a flavor that was used by another team. First, it was the lingonberries that Derek had used in his Linzer cookies. Today, they’d used almost the same Asian flavors for their Panettone as Kaori and Gustavo had. They’d been horrible to everyone all week, so I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they were up to some sneaky shit.
Kaori and Gustavo, on the other hand, were lovely, but seriously struggling. They were still running around, their wreath not yet in the oven. I cringed, wondering if they’d get it baked in time.
“We’re fine. We did our best.”
That was the wrong thing to say, of course. Kiskeya wanted to hear: “We’re going to win.”
But I didn’t know when to keep my mouth shut, so instead of letting her fret in peace, I went right into the lion’s lair. “Would you consider taking the job in New York City if we won?” There was no way to make that sound innocent, especially after she’d clearly told me the reason she was here was to get the job at Farine et Sucre in LA.
She made a show of looking at the time which said we still had another seven minutes for one and eight minutes for the other. Ten minutes left in the competition.
Nowhere to go, Kiskeya.
“If I didn’t have any other choice,” she replied with a shrug, and my face heated from embarrassment. “Why are you asking me that?” She took a long drink of a water bottle right after she asked, but I could see the red on her cheeks.
She was playing dense—my favorite.
So I reciprocated with brattyness. “No reason. Why would I care about you living in New York?” I kept my tone light, but we both knew her shitty answer pissed me off.
But that wasn’t fair. I couldn’t get mad because Kiskeya was going by the rules we’d agreed to. I’d been the one to suggest we could mess around while we were here and go on our merry way once we were done. I wanted to change things up, and that wasn’t cool. I was going to fuck up our vibe with my neediness if I kept this up.
“Never mind; was just wondering.” I gave her a smile I was sure made me look like I was in pain and turned my attention to the wreaths.
“Five minutes, bakers.” That got us both moving.
The wreaths looked ready, so we got busy getting them plated for the judges. They came out beautiful and smelled heavenly. From behind us, we heard a crash and then Gustavo swearing in Spanish. Kiskeya glanced over her shoulder as I hurried to place the berries and holly leaves around the wreath after sprinkling it with powdered sugar.
She shook her head and whispered, “It fell apart on them.”
Shit.
In the nick of time we got everything plated and ready. Soon the judges were waiting for our creations.
My heart pounded as Kiskeya and I walked shoulder to shoulder, each holding a challah wreath.
“Let’s see how this tastes,” Jean-Georges said, as he took a knife to one of the wreaths, and I could hear Kiskeya inhaling sharply. We explained what we’d done to them as they tasted.
“Oh my God, this is amazing.” Susan always said that, but I still smiled gratefully.
Bobbie also seemed to love both flavors and complimented us on taking on the challenge of doing two. Jean-Georges gave us his usual stone face, but pinched off a second piece of the fig and honey, so I took that as a win.
Kaori and Gustavo were next and the judges were not as easy on them. Their Rosca de Reyes had not come together well, and in the end, it was under-baked.
The Beccas dazzled with some kind of pull-apart brioche wreath, so I wasn’t surprised when Kaori and Gustavo were cut. The Beccas also managed to nab the thirty-minute advantage for the final challenge, since they’d been the team who’d finished first the most often throughout the competition.
I figured that Kiskeya would be shitty about losing to them, but she once again surprised me. She just winked at me and whispered, “We don’t need it.”
It was a bittersweet feeling. As elated as I was to go on to the final, I felt bad for our friends. But when Kiskeya turned to me and gave me a tight hug, all I felt was happy.
“To the finals, bonita,” she whispered as the judges congratulated the Beccas and bid farewell to Kaori and Gustavo. I thought she’d let go after a moment, not wanting to attract attention. Instead, she pulled me closer and spoke quietly in my ear. “I’m going to take it so slow with you tonight. It’s going to take me hours. I bet I can make you come just from sucking on your tits.”
I gasped as she let me go, a pool of heat gathering between my thighs. She looked like pure mischief, making the doubts and reservations from the last half hour go up like so much kindle in the flames of my lust. I could lose my head for her. I had already started to.
I was ready to walk out of the studio and make a run for it in the direction of our room when Isla stopped us and called the Beccas over.
She gave me and Kiskeya a hug, but the Beccas just got a frosty smile. Not that I could blame her; they’d been treating her like the help the entire week.
And just to stay on brand, they rolled their eyes and slumped against one of the stations.
“What do you need? We’re exhausted.”
Isla was a real fucking trooper because she actually managed a smile. “I have your packages for day three. The secret challenge will be the first one this time. And the info for the other two is in the package.” The Beccas took their packets without a word, glared at us, and took off.
We did the same after thanking Isla. Kiskeya and I stepped out of the studio into the cold Scottish night. It always felt weird leaving the studio, like we’d been in there for days. But tonight, there was a lightness to it, even if we’d had to see more of our friends leave the contest.
Scotland wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be so far up north, and there wasn’t really a lot of snow on the ground yet. But the stars seemed to all be out tonight. Kiskeya was quiet, like I’d noticed she’d been on the first day after the challenges ended. Probably going over everything we’d done today and how we could do it better next time. But I was caught up in the moment. That I was here with her.
She stopped next to me, and I felt her tip her head up too. “And to think, this is the same sky as in Santo Domingo.” She contemplated and I searched for her hand. I wanted to feel connected to her, even if I knew I was getting dangerously close to corny.
She tangled her fingers with mine, and we looked up for a moment. Eventually I turned to look at her and said what was on my mind. “I’m glad I got to do this with you. I’m proud of us.” We were representing our island here, and that felt monumental. But it was more than that. This experience had already changed me.
I stayed with my face lifted to the sky, hoping...but I didn’t have to wait long. In the darkness of the Scottish night, she kissed me. It was short but thorough, and like all her kisses, piercing. She licked the seam of my lips as she tightened her hold on my hand. I parted them and her tongue stole inside, possessive, like she wanted to assert that these lips, this mouth, if on
ly for tonight, were hers.
We pulled back, breathless, and I smiled at how serious she looked. “From looking at you right now, no one would suspect you just violated the sanctity of the kitchen studio by making filthy promises.”
She grinned and I thought once again that walking away from this girl was going to hurt. “You know I’m a planner, Sully. I wanted to let you know what the program had in store for you after hours.”
I had to laugh. “You’re dirty.”
“You like it, though.” I could say no, but what would be the point?
I let her pull me along, and tried not to pay too much attention to the pit in my stomach reminding me that we only had two more days together.
Chapter 12
Kiskeya
“That’s the thirty-five-grand winner right there,” Sully gloated as she put the finishing touches on our practice cake for the last challenge of the competition. I stepped back from the workstation to take a good look at the coquito and passion fruit cake she’d made. The producers had given us access to the kitchen all day to prepare for the last bakes. We’d been in the studio along with the Beccas—who right now were working on the other side of a removable wall they’d placed as barrier—since the morning, and it was past dinnertime.
“I think we got this in the bag. That looks beautiful and it tastes even better.” She came up to where I was standing and put her arms around my waist. “I’m proud of you, K. You finally went all in with celebrating our roots.”
I almost shrugged it off, but it was true. I’d gone hard with the Caribbean flavors for this last challenge. Sully just kept nodding slowly and asking if I was okay this morning, when we were making our plan. The last Showoff Showcase’s theme was “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” which was kind of all over the place, but I’d come up with the idea of a snow globe with a scene of a “Santa at the Beach.”
We’d done a five-layer cake, and on top of it, we made waves out of meringues. We had spun sugar palm trees and made saffron and orange macarons. Those would be the gifts in Santa’s sleigh. It was all encased in a sugar dome, and it looked pretty bomb.
Mangos and Mistletoe Page 8