Page 67 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

She peers up at me from under long, dark lashes. “Everything I've ever tasted from you has been incredible, Mr. Fury.”

I stare down at her glittering green eyes, sparkling with humor. “I sure hope I can live up to your expectations.”

A tiny laugh falls from her lips, and she swirls her tongue around the head of my cock. I jerk and tighten my hold on her hair.

“I'm sure you will.” She sucks me into her mouth slowly, like she wants to either torture me or experience every bit of it.

My bet is on the torture.

The way she slides her tongue along the bottom of my shaft, then up across that place right under the head of my cock is clearly designed to torment me. To make my hips rock forward in an attempt to drive deeper. To push me to the brink of self-control.

She moans around me and changes the angle of her assault so that she can take me even farther down.

Oh, fuck. I won't last. No fucking way.

If I want any chance of coming inside her, I need to end this before she does it for me. I tug on her hair and drag my hips back to free my cock from her mouth’s vise-like grip.

She gazes up at me, her lips wet and swollen, her hand still wrapped around the base of my shaft. “What?”

I tug her up and against me, pressing a brutal kiss to her lips before making my way to her ear. “As much as I would love to see you swallow my cum, I want to be inside you more right now.”

The hand wrapped around me strokes, and she gives a tiny nod. It's the only confirmation I need that’s she’s fully on board with this plan.

That control I’m barely clinging to finally snaps, and I push her back against the door and fumble to find the waistband of her pants. She releases her grip on me long enough to shove them down along with her thong and kicks them off to the side along with the flip-flops she was wearing.

The urge to drop to my knees to worship her again and get the warm taste of her release on my tongue wars against the need to feel her clamping around me, but she brushes her thumb over the head of my dick and urges me back toward her, making the decision for me.

Thank fuck, I don’t have to make that choice.

I grasp her hips and lift her to wrap her legs around my waist, then pin her to the door. The bruises on my side issue a little scream of objection, but there isn’t any time to worry about how sore this might make me. Aligning my cock with her wet heat, I lock eyes with Izzy and drive into absolute bliss.

It isn't what I had in mind when I invited her over tonight. I pictured something a little more romantic, or at least a soft mattress beneath us. Romance isn't a word I've ever really associated with how I am with women, and most would consider this a little barbaric. But this feels right with her, right here in the damn living room against the front door barely inside my apartment. Everything else between us has been fast.

Immediate hatred.

Immediate frustration.

Immediate tension.

Immediate attraction—at least from my end.

Why should this be any different?

Izzy deserves to be worshipped. To be shown how beautiful and irresistible she is to me. She needs to know just how she drives me fucking crazy in a way no other woman in my life ever has.

And I'll do all those things…once I get some fucking relief.

My hips mimic the push and pull of the relationship we’ve always had. Every retreat feels like losing a little something, while every drive in is like coming home to a place I hadn’t known I needed.

She groans and drops her head against the wood, digging her heels into my lower back to push me even deeper.

I still for a moment and put my forehead against hers. A huge part of me wants to stay like this forever, buried inside Izzy, but the need to move makes me drag my hips back and slam into her again.

Her nails score my nape, and I lean forward to suck the breath right from her lips.

And good God… she seems more than willing to let me.

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