Page 22 of Giovanni
Chill, man. Don’t blow this. She could still say no and be out the door if I don’t keep it together.
“Yeah, just thinking about the recipe.”
The recipe of me and all that soft caramel skin.
“So, these ancient grains,” she begins, eyeing the quinoa box she’s unpacking from the bags. “How do we ensure they don’t taste ancient?”
I laugh, appreciating the corny joke to take my mind off of putting her on her knees and placing my cock on her lips.
“It’s all about the spices. A little flavor can make anything taste great.”
“And is that your life philosophy too?”
The glint in her eye keeps the blood pumping into my balls now. She has the ingredients unpacked in no time while I move about the kitchen focusing on getting the pots and pans out and not on her plump ass bumping against my thigh when I pass her.
“A little spice makes everything better, especially when mixing salt and pepper.”
My joke is as corny as hers, but the tone in which I said it has her catching her lip in her perfect white teeth. I will keepheating things up between us, never backing off unless she turns me down or tells me off.
As we start cooking, the kitchen becomes the dance floor between us. I guide Kacie through the steps, our hands brushing as we pass ingredients back and forth. She asks questions openly and honestly with a sort of flirtiness that is ruining my resolve not to turn off the burners and take her into my bedroom. She’s so eager to learn I turn away and look at the ceiling to keep my cock from popping out of my shorts. I drop more praise on her, watching her soak it up and knowing she will love the praise kink I hit her with later.
The sizzle of chicken hitting the hot pan fills the air, mixing with the aromatic spices I sprinkle liberally. But it’s no comparison to the sizzle between us. And when my hand grazes her ass, I’m quick with an apology that gets stuck in my throat when she gives me a sultry look over her shoulder.
I raise the stakes, showing Kacie how to chop vegetables to maximize their texture and taste by trapping her against the counter and wrapping my hands over hers. She leans into my body, her soft hair brushing my chin, and her breathing becomes erratic.
When she tilts her face to look up at me, I dip my lips to hers in the softest kiss possible. It’s brief, fleeting, and a measure to watch how she reacts. The corner of her mouth falls into a frown, and a small sigh leaves her body—all signs she wants more.
“Good job on the vegetables,” I murmur close to her face, her forgotten perfume rising into my nostrils as they flare with desire. “But you’re not done.”
She immediately straightens and focuses on the task, following my lead until her movements are steady in each slice. I release her hands, my hard cock pressed firmly against her soft body, making my intentions known as I grip the countertop.
My light teasing counters the roaring desire coursing through my veins. One simple kiss. One prolonged touching of our bodies. Now it’s her turn to give something of herself, to meet me halfway and confirm she’s all in as I am.
When she approaches, I move away from her to stir the quinoa and turn down the heat on the chicken. Her hand on my arm is soft but firm, a gentle tug to get my attention. I turn to her, seeing the desire in her look, the upturn of her face wanting more.
“You’re right. I’m not done.”
Her hand slides up my arm, resting on my shoulder while the other cups my waist. Her light green eyes narrow while her full lips shimmer with traces of lip gloss I tasted a second ago.
“What do you want to do?”
I know exactly what she wants. Being the intelligent litigator she is, she must tell me exactly what she wants. The rest I’ll get from her body when it speaks to me. She takes a shaky breath, feeling as turned on as I am. But that beautiful, upturned face is my undoing. I’d tell her to get down on her knees if we were together. But we’re not there yet. The choice is hers.
I rest a hand on the countertop, the pan’s contents bubbling as I await her answer. Her light emerald eyes look me up and down, narrowing on my cock that has failed to go down since we got into my domain, to the food makings scattered all over the kitchen and back to me.
“I want to do other things.”
I smile, her dilemma evident in what she wants versus what she thinks she wants. It’s obvious that no one has ever taken their time with her, waiting patiently for her timing to prevail. Her choice of words is enchanting too. I doubt she’d ever say fuck me in that soft voice of hers. Maybe that’s what I should be coaxing out of her instead.
“Other things?” I unfairly emphasize my choice before continuing, “Not cooking or meal prep?”
Her fingers tighten in place, her long nails pressing into my flesh, and I give her a knowing smile.She counters it with one of her own.
“No.”
I wrap my arms around her, her petite frame fitting snugly into the embrace. Her small stature only heightens my instinct to protect and care for her.
“Good girl.”
