Page 19 of Chef's Kiss

“What’s the name of my show…the one you starred in today like a true fucking professional?”

“Chef’s Kiss,” I answer.

Slowly he unbuttons my jeans and then unzips my fly, the sound of my zipper telegraphing what’s imminent.

“You know when you stuck your finger in that sauce and licked it off how badly I wanted to stick my fingers in you and suck my fingers until they were bone dry?”

I exhale hard.

“And do you know what Chef’s Kiss means?”

“When a chef kisses their fingertips and then pulls them open as they move them away, which shows that what they’ve just prepared or tasted is perfect and delicious.”

“That’s the official definition. You know the unofficial one? The one you’ll only find in kitchens or possibly leaked on sites like Urban Dictionary?”

“No,” I reply, moving my head slightly to the side as he grabs the sides of my pants and yanks my pants down to my knees before stopping, closing his eyes and diving his head in toward my middle like a dive bomber before ascending. “Ahhh, you smell so fucking sweet.”

Goosebumps cover my skin as the electricity in the air shatters me.

“It’s when a chef eats a perfect creation from a perfect pussy, and there can only be one perfect pussy in this world for me. Yours,” he says. “Don’t you fucking move,” he orders, stepping away and coming back seconds later with his shirt off walking towards me like a lion approaching a wounded animal with nowhere to run.

“What’s that?”

“This is what I made at four in the morning when I couldn’t sleep. When all I could think about was you, which is all I’ve thought about since I first saw you yesterday.” He pauses. “This is Amedei Porcelana dark chocolate, from the Amedei chocolatier of Tuscany, Italy. And inside are Sato Nishiki cherries from Japan.”

“I’ve never heard of either.”

“That’s because they’ve never been combined in the world. They’re too rare. Too precious. Too perfect. Just like you.”

He leans in, kissing my pussy over the top of my panties and my head flies back before I shoot it forward again, wanting to watch him as his eyes look up at me.

His lips come off my panties and his eyes narrow. “In February 1967 nineteen police officers raided Keith Richards home and discovered they’d interrupted an orgy where Mick Jagger was eating a Mars candy bar out of Marianne Faithfull’s pussy. Of course those involved denied those rumors, but I can promise you this. I’m going to do them one better, way better, treating your pussy like the most amazing pussy in the world that it is. And I’ll never deny it for one second.”

His hand clasps my the top of my panties and he yanks them to the side, the thin cotton ripping. My eyes widen like saucers as I feel the cool tip of the refrigerated Italian chocolate scissor through my folds, the Japanese cherries providing the bumpy texture that perfectly hits my nub and I feel my hips start to quake.

“Not yet. No icing until I say so,” he commands, and slowly he slides the tip of the chocolate bar inside me.

I’m not sure if this is the best moment of my life or I want to slap him across the face. It feels so damn good, so satisfying, that I have no choice but to moan as he works it inside me before pulling it out, breaking off a piece and putting it on his tongue.

His eyes roll back in his head as he lets it sit there, his palette taking it all in before he inserts the chocolate bar in me again, pulls it out, breaks off the tip and holds it just a fraction of an inch from my lips.

I look at it, knowing I want it, but knowing how dirty this feels. Something inside me clicks, reminding me that he’s all I’ve ever wanted, this is all I ever wanted, and I can’t deny how much I want to taste those chocolate covered cherries…and myself.

I take the bite in my mouth and just like him, my eyes close. It’s the best thing I have ever tasted, and in the strangest way possible it’s somehow a self-esteem boost knowing that part of that is me…literally me.

I chew it up and swallow it down, dying for more.

“There’s only one thing in the world that can taste better,” he says after allowing me to take my time and finish. “You.”

CHAPTER 12

Christian

Fuck, this was about to go down. All the agonizing the last couple nights and now we’re here. Both of us, on the beginning of our trek through life together.

And taking her, making her mine, was the next step.

I flatten my tongue and run it straight up the length of her folds, causing her back to arch and her ass to rise up off the table. And causing my cock to jerk violently in my pants, thrusting against my zipper and begging to be freed. Fuck, if I released the bastard right now I’d spew my seed all over her, marking her, not be able to hold back until I was where I really wanted to be, needed to be. Inside her.

---