Page 97 of Prelude To You

“It might be the sharp, superior little tone you’re using, my sweet. Sexy doesn’t even begin to describe how that makes me feel. And let’s not forget your delectably bare body as you tear the desserts apart.”

As if my arousal was of no consequence, she picked up the next pastry and studied it with a wary shudder. “And I haven’t even told you aboutchouxpastry and all the ways they went wrong with theseprofiteroles.”

“Please ignore my erection and continue, I’m very interested,” I said, torn between wanting to hear more about the complete failure of the pastries and simply pulling Isabel onto my lap and fucking her until she begged me stop.

“The thing aboutchouxpastry is that with a little care it’s really an easy dough to get right,” she continued. “If you add the eggs to your hot water and flour paste before the paste cools down, the eggs will cook and your dough won’t rise.”

She held theprofiteroleunder my nose. “Case in point. See how tough the dough is? This dough was overmixed after the eggs were added. I mean how does anyone mess this simple pastry up so badly. I know ten-year olds who can do it better.”

By now my cock was throbbing and my attention was veering sharply away from the pastries. Some heads were going to fly over this dessert menu, and I made a mental note to address that first thing in the morning.

Isabel dipped her finger into theprofiterolefilling and licked it off. “Hmmm they used a decent vanilla extract, so the cream is passable,” she said. “I use vanilla beans myself which is really the only way to make the perfect pastry cream.”

Her gaze slid to my cock, and I noticed that by now her nipples were pointed little beads, and a pink flush was crawling up her chest to her throat and into her cheeks. It was becoming increasingly clear the nymph was about to surrender to her carnal cravings, and I for one was more than prepared.

She pushed away the cart and coiled toward me like a ribbon of mist until she was right between my thighs. With theprofiterolein one hand.

“If I were you I would definitely talk to the manager of this hotel,” she said, as she dipped her finger into the pastry cream again. “No way should they in good conscience make you pay for these pastries.”

Her eyes locked with mine as she delicately smothered the tip of my cock with the cream on her finger, a little tremble haunting her lips. Her free hand curved elegantly around the base, and then that succulent mouth curled over my crown, and she not-so-gently licked the cream off with her tongue.

My head dropped back against the headboard, a strangled moan escaping my throat. Nothing could ever have prepared me for this bolt of lightning firing through me, settling at the base of my spine in a boiling rage of lust.

This was not the first time a woman has had her mouth on my cock, but somehow this was different. Very different. And I was besieged by the sinking realization that Isabel had already seeped into my marrow, into my veins, into my blood. And that there was no fleeing this hellscape of tenderness I felt.

Isabel drew back, glancing at me with a smoky smile, fire dancing in her eyes. More cream was fingerpainted over my cock, carefully, an artist at work with her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

She sucked the tufts of cream left behind on her finger. “Promise me you’ll take it up with the manager. You shouldn’t pay for these pastries, except thisprofiterole. Because I’m about to enjoy the cream for dessert.”

My voice had abandoned me, and a helpless grunt was my only reply. The luminous nymph stared at me, the injustice of it all burning her cheeks. “Promise me you will,” she said demandingly, which made my dick twitch with hunger.

“Yes,” I barely managed. “I will absolutely.”

With the blithest of smiles her head dipped lower, and her tongue swirled around my cock from the base to the crown, again and again, until there wasn’t a drop of cream left. And if this woman didn’t look up at me one more time, those emerald eyes flaring with desire, her breath whisper-warm against my skin. “Show me what you like,mon coeur.”

“Jesus Christ,” I murmured before lacing my fingers through her wavy mane, cupping the back of her head and gently guiding her. My pulse thrumming in my veins.

Even if she could barely fit half my shaft into her mouth, Isabel’s enthralling resolve to swallow as much as she could of me was as endearing as it was erotic. And the way that mouth of hers wrapped around me, her tongue wet and teasing, languorous and slow, noisily licking and sucking until every molecule in me screamed for release.

I had to steel myself against the urge to come right then and there.

“Isabel,” I groaned, before yanking her away from my throbbing erection and pulling her up to straddle my lap. Her eyes met mine with a glimpse of confusion. My mouth found her ear. “I want to enjoy you first.”

Confusion made way for the familiar smolder, and her lips quirked into a decadent smile before she surrendered her mouth to mine. The taste of pastry cream and arousal exploded on my tongue. I wrapped my arms around her and drew her closer, crushing her body against mine.

And with that she slowly moved her hips, just enough for her drenched seam to slide against the underside of my cock, the vibration of her whimpers traveling down my spine.

She cupped my face in her palms, whispering against my lips. “So last night when you were listening to Rachmaninoff and drinking whiskey, what else did you do?”

I swept her hair behind her ear, wanting a clear view of that exquisite face. “What do you think I did?” I asked, tendrils of desire weaving us inside our secret cocoon.

She traced my features with her lips, her fingers running through my hair, trailing to my collarbone. “I think you worked. Like me you knew nothing would quell the fire, and anything you did would probably make it worse. So you worked and at a guess you never went to sleep.”

There was no missing the way she was getting slicker against my cock. “You’re right,” I whispered back, as if we weren’t the only people in the room. “I worked and I never slept. But later in the shower was different story.”

Her nose flared and her lips parted, her voice raspier than usual. “And were you thinking of me while you were stroking yourself?”

A grunt caught in my throat. “Isabel, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night.”

---