Page 19 of Chef's Kiss

Faith’s laugh blends into a happy sigh, and she stretches both arms over her head, rolling her neck. That vest top is so thin it’s barely there, brushing against her body, her hard nipples poking at the fabric…

I swallow hard. When did my muscles get so tense?

“Well, you’re right,” Faith says, so airy and teasing. “This is my first time. Ha, I can’t believe I was worried about this. I thought you’d want me less—”

With a growl, I grab her and bear her down into the nest. She comes easily, giggling madly, her limbs wrapping around my body—and fuck, she’s so hot and sweet and eager.

“Less?” I grit out, shoving her thighs wide and slotting my hips against hers. Even with my jeans and her shorts between us, the friction makes my gut twist, and I rock against her, driven by sheer instinct. Sparks crackle up my spine. “Does that feel like I want you less?”

She’s so hot and damp, searing me through our clothes. Faith moans and shakes her head, kissing my neck, my jaw, my shoulder, and fuck, I can’t think straight anymore.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” My chest is heaving, and the words come hard, dredged from the bottom of my soul. Even as I speak, I’m tugging her shorts down her thighs.

Faith lifts her hips to help me, and her eyes are fierce on mine. “Don’t stop, Andre.”

No. Fear.

Only a word from Faith could stop me now. Only an ounce of hesitation from her. Nothing else—not a natural disaster, or armed invaders, or goddamn Stephen back early from his trip—could drag me away when I settle my shoulders between her thighs.

There’s a mole on Faith’s right hip. So goddamn cute.

I kiss it before trailing down to her core.

“Oh!” Slender fingers weave through my hair, tugging and twisting. “Oh, shit! Andre!”

My lips curve against her slit as I grin. She’s delicious down here—as I always knew she would be. Tangy and sweet and salty, so wet for me already. Pink and puffy and swollen andmine.

Faith cries out as my teeth graze her clit. When I suck that bead into my mouth, she arches off the quilt, trembling like a leaf in a storm.

I planned to spend hours down here—and sometime soon I will. But right now…

My instincts are riding me hard. Need to make her come. I needin.

“Such a good girl.” My words are muffled against her folds, but Faith whimpers and writhes, and it’s official: I know her buttons. Of course I do. We fit perfectly together. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you sweetheart? Spreading those pretty legs.”

“Y-yes.” With twin pink spots on her cheeks, her dark red hair sprawled over the pillows, Faith looks wrecked already. “Andre.”

“I’m here. I’ve got you.” Palms kneading her thighs, I lick her steadily, taut with hunger. My cock’s hard enough to drill through the floorboards.

“I… I’m going to…”

She clamps around my finger as it presses inside her. So tight, and I’m only to the second knuckle. She’s slick, though, and softening up by the second as I devour her like my life depends on it.

Never going to hurt this girl. Won’t ever cause an ounce of pain.

That means she needs to be ready for me, because the rock-hard bulge in my jeans promises no mercy.

“Oh.” Faith’s restless now, squirming against my finger, tossing her head from side to side. “Oh.”

This time, when I suck on her clit, she arches all the way up off the quilt, hair dangling behind. She comes hard and fast, muscles rigid on her bones, and I don’t let up until she collapses back into the nest in a sweaty puddle.

“Shit,” Faith slurs, clapping both hands over her face. “That was—oh my god. Oh, god.”

“Want to keep going?” Jaw clenched, I wait with one hand on my jeans button. And Faith takes forever to speak again, visibly gathering her strength, but when she peeks at me between her fingers… there’s a spark in her eyes.

“Obviously,” she says, and the beast in my chest roars in triumph. Never yanked my jeans open so fast in my life.

No time to take them off. No time to peel our shirts off either. Better to crawl on top of her with my jeans down to my thighs, desperate and driven out of my mind, with only one thought driving me: the need to rut.

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