Page 14 of Say Yes to the Chef

“Don’t be.” I swallow hard, flexing my hands on her hips, then I dig my fingers into the flesh of her ass, massaging her as she sits astride me.

But then she moves with my hands, a punishing motion against my cock, and I have to focus on not coming.

“Okay,” I say through clenched teeth. “On your stomach.” I playfully toss her onto the bed and flip her onto her front.

She giggles, and it's almost as sexy as the moans of pleasure she gifted me with me just moments ago.

I strip her out of the loose shirt she wears, then untie her bikini top and loosen the straps off her back and neck. The air in the room changes. The laughter is gone, leaving only heady desire in its place. It thickens the air, scents it with pheromones and lust.

Stretching out above her, I kiss each shoulder, then trail my fingertips down her spine, smiling when goosebumps break out over her skin. I press each palm against the supple mounds of her ass and give a gentle squeeze, then skim my fingers down her legs and push myself off the bed. “Stay right there, gorgeous.”

I disappear into the ensuite bathroom and scan the countertops. There’s a bamboo tray on the counter with everything she could possibly need during her stay, from complimentary shampoo and conditioner to a shower cap and sewing kit, and, just as I’d hoped, a small jar of the coconut-scented moisturizing oil they sell at the spa gift shop.

I strip out of my pants and leave them in a heap on the floor, then return to the bedroom.

She pushes up onto her elbows and looks at me over her shoulder, eyes wide as she takes me in.

I pause, allowing her to stare as long as she wants, then push my boxers down over my hips and let them fall to the floor.

Her eyes flash with desire and she bites down on her bottom lip.

I linger a moment longer, basking in the hungry way she looks at me, then squirt a little massage oil into my hands and rub them together to warm them up.

Adrienne

Coconut oil drips from the young chef’s strong hands, but it’s his chiseled abs dipping down into that delicious V and the erection below that has my full attention.

My God, he is something to see.

I swallow hard, momentarily embarrassed by the sound it makes in the silence of the room, but he doesn’t comment as he rubs his hands together and walks around the bed, disappearing from my line of sight and leaving my eyes jealous of everything else in the room that gets to look at him.

The bed shifts beneath his weight as he climbs back on and straddles my legs. He starts on my shoulders, smoothing the coconut oil into my skin, working my muscles with purposeful, kneading strokes. His hands are smooth, likely from years in the kitchen and touching hot pans as if the heat doesn’t affect him at all.

Closing my eyes, I allow myself to relax. I breathe deeply, pulling the richness of coconut into my lungs and easing into his touch. It’s not just coconut but something else… Maybe sandalwood? A hint of citrus? “It smells like you,” I say, the words a bit muffled in the bedding.

He chuckles, a delicious sound, and says, “Guilty. I use the products we sell here in the spa.”

Mmm, I may have to buy some to take home with me.

He leans forward and brings his mouth to my ear. “Do you like it?”

I nod.

Marco licks up the curve of my ear, pulls the lobe into his mouth, and I tremble as heat shoots south. It’s a struggle not to turn over and slam my mouth against his.

I would have never imagined myself like this, naked and exposed to a complete stranger, but I’ve never felt more beautiful, more desired. He looks at me with awe in his deep brown eyes, as if even as he touches me with his own two hands, he questions my existence, the realness of me.

He moves his hands downward, massaging the soreness out of my lower back and sides. How he knows where I hold all of my stress is a mystery, but as he digs deeper, sensing my need for his touch, I nearly cry from how wonderful each dig of his thumbs feels along the base of my spine. Across my hips.

He balances on the line between chaste and sensual, dipping briefly down over the crest of my bottom, teasing the crease between my cheeks with just a quick brush of his thumbs. It doesn’t take long for anticipation to build between my legs, tighten my belly into another twisting knot of need and lust.

I’m spread out on the bed beneath him, and his weight across my thighs is sublime as it pins me down, immobilizing me beneath his touch. When his hands reach up to work my shoulders again, he teases the sides of my breasts with his fingertips and a shiver travels down my spine.

Minutes pass by in silence as Marco massages me. Besides the soft hum of the air conditioning, the only sound in the room comes from his hands when he gets more coconut oil and rubs it between his palms to warm it up. A sound that, now, will forever be linked to anticipation.

I’m relaxed and full of energy all at once, the warring feelings juxtaposed within me causing my blood to run hot and my heart to pound. If I just rolled over, he’d be on top of me–

Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull my hands up from my sides and brace them on the bed, then begin to flip over. He quickly realizes my intentions and lifts his weight off of me, and soon I’m stretched out on my back beneath him. The way my breasts fall into my armpits offers an uncomfortable reminder that I’m naked in front of a man who isn’t my husband.

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