Page 149 of The Devil's Deal

“Wha…?”

He lets go of my hair, and both hands are now on my hips.

“Turn the shrimp over until they start to get pink.” His thumbs slip under my shorts, and he starts to pull them down past my ass. “After that, add the tomatoes.”

“What are you—?”

“Do what I said.”

His voice is an explosive cocktail, making my core throb for more.

“Don’t burn it,” he cautions, his lips dipping into the crook of my neck as he kisses and sucks.

My thighs press together as I lift the bowl full of shrimp. All the while, his hand creeps down my ass, cupping my pussy.

“Pull your thighs apart before I do it for you,” he warns as I let out a whimper.

I flip the bowl into the pan just as my thighs do what he’s commanded. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to cook with him doing whatever he’s about to do to me. I’m afraid I’ll not only burn the food, but probably the both of us.

Just as I’m about to mix the shrimp, one finger glides between my slit, and I cry out in pleasure as he rubs a little, giving me only a taste of what he has in store.

He pinches my pussy lips, and I groan, needing more.

“I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep stirring.”

My legs grow weak, my heartbeats falling faster, even as I do what he says.

“Good girl.” His hand leaves my core, and the next thing I know, his arm is lifting my leg and draping it over his shoulder.

I pant as I glance down, finding him on his knees, his eyes on mine. But his lips, his tongue, are where his fingers have just been. He takes a swipe, outlining the shape of my lips, and I gasp, my knees trembling, my hand almost about to drop the spoon.

“If you stop, I stop,” he threatens, his gaze daring me to disobey.

That only makes me grow wetter. I like this side of him. The dominating side. I need it. I want it.

His mouth is on me, feasting on every inch, his tongue entering me while his thumb plays with my clit. I keep mixing with stuttered motions, moaning while my eyes roll back to my head.

I want to feel him enter me, stretching me fully, completely. The more he works me, the more I’m pushed over the edge.

He stops, and I moan in frustration.

“Dom, damn it. I need to come.”

“Are the shrimp done yet?” he asks casually, not like a man who smells and tastes like me.

“I…ah…um…I think so.”

“Add the tomatoes.”

I do it immediately, tossing them right in just as his tongue flicks my clit, two fingers inside me, curling into my G-spot.

“Oh, fuck. Yesss…” I gasp, my hand grabbing the edge of the counter, the spoon whipping in my other hand.

He pumps harder, his fingers driving into the most sensitive part of me, his tongue picking up pace to the rhythm of my hand stirring the food, unable to sustain speed.

I’m falling, aching for release.

One more touch of his tongue, and my orgasm explodes.

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