Page 16 of Coping Skills

Narrowing his eyes, he pointed at her with the spoon. “Watch it. I might have to punish you for that.”

“Oh, are you going to spank me?”

He chuckled, low and growly, shaking his head. “Uh-uh. I was thinking more like a thorough tongue-lashing.”

She shivered, rubbing her thighs together. Then she leaned forward deliberately, her shirt gaping to tease him with a glimpse of her breasts, and she scooped up as much dough as she could on her index finger before bringing it to her mouth, licking it from palm to tip before sticking it in her mouth and sucking.

And the semi he’d been sporting since she got there turned into a raging hard-on.

He let out a groan, and she smiled around her finger, sucking on it and drawing it out from between her lips with a pop.

“I think I can get behind a tongue-lashing.”

“Coming right up.” Reaching down, he adjusted himself, her eyes zeroing in on his actions, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. “But you’ll have to wait until I get the first batch of cookies in the oven.”

“So mean. Making me wait like this.”

He laughed, enjoying the verbal foreplay as much as the physical kind. The cookies were irregular in size, but he couldn’t care less right now, his normal desire for precision swamped by his desire for her. All he cared about was feeling her thighs around his head, her lips around his cock, her pussy gripping him as she came. Fuck the damn cookies. The only reason he went through with it was because he knew she was suffering as much as he was, maybe more, and the anticipation only heightened the release when it came.

Sliding the full cookie sheet into the oven, he straightened and set the timer on the microwave. When he turned around, Elena stood in front of him, her hands immediately going to his waist, tugging down his athletic shorts and boxer briefs together until his cock came free.

Gripping him with one hand, she licked from the base to the tip once, again, dragging her tongue all over his shaft, coating it with her saliva, teasing him by ignoring the head. Then her hot, wet mouth engulfed him, her tongue firm and soft, sliding over the tip and all around, feeling like heaven. He let out a groan, reaching behind him to hold onto the stove, his knees weak.

His fantasy of her licking cookie dough off his cock didn’t come true, but he didn’t care. Not with the way her hand gripped him, the way her mouth felt, and the visual of her on her knees, her head bobbing up and down on his cock, seeing how far she could take him. He reached out to rest his hand on the back of her head, not forcing her or even guiding her, just needing to touch her.

When his balls started to draw up tight against his body and his fingers gripped her ponytail without his conscious direction, he tugged back, pulling her off of him. She sat back on her heels, looking up at him, wiping her puffy, red lips with the back of her hand.

Pulling her up, he pulled her T-shirt over her head. “Clothes off. Now.” She grinned, unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them down her hips. Impatient, he grabbed the sides and yanked them down to her ankles, standing up to kick off his own shorts and pull off his T-shirt. Pulling her close, he kissed her, bending enough so that he could reach her ass, lifting up as he did so. She let out a little squeak, grabbing at his shoulders as he pivoted and placed her on the counter.

He ran his hands down her sides, over her thighs to her knees, and back up her inner thighs, spreading her legs wider. “My turn.” Crouching down, he held her open, kissing here and there on his way to his target, nipping at the tender skin at the fullest part of her thigh just to watch her squirm before holding his mouth over her spread pussy, letting his hot breath wash over her.

“Daniel, please.”

And this was why he teased her. A satisfied grin played over his face as he took her in, fingers clutching the edge of the counter, breasts heaving, hair a mess of curls around her shoulders, head back against the upper cabinets. This desperate wantonness got him harder than anything, his cock jutting out in front of him, desperately seeking friction but unable to find any. No, he’d hold off, bring her pleasure first, and then find his own, making it all the sweeter for the wait. Delayed gratification was his M.O., both in life and in the sack. Or the kitchen, in this case.

He started slow, running the tip of his tongue up and around and back down, without ever touching her clit, much like she did to him when she licked all up and down his shaft without more than brushing the head of his dick. Payback time.

She tried to squirm, but his hands pinning her thighs apart held her in place so she could barely wiggle her hips, just moving her upper body enough that her tits jiggled and bounced enticingly. He needed to have her in his lap so those could bounce up and down at eye level. His cock twitched at the thought. So far, every time they’d been together he’d ended up on top. Except for when he’d bent her over and taken her from behind. Still, not her on top either. That was his new goal. He needed her to ride him.

She squirmed some more, so he gave in and let his tongue wander over her clit before resuming his slow circles and long flat strokes of his tongue. Spearing his tongue into her opening, he tongue-fucked her until her hands landed on his head, trying to pull him higher, but she couldn’t get a grip on his close-cropped hair. He resisted a second or two longer, just to make her that much more frustrated. And the sound she made when he finally gave in made it worth it—a long, low sigh that had her hands relaxing onto the counter again in pleasure before her fingers tightened on the edge once more as he drove her higher, closer to the edge.

Normally he’d sink his fingers inside her now, but she was bucking her hips so much that it took both hands to hold her down, keep her steady for the onslaught of his tongue and lips. The tendons in her thighs popped as her muscles strained, her legs trying to clamp around his head, his tongue working her clit hard. Her breath came faster, little moans on every exhale, her hands gripping his arms and shoulders, seeming to want to push him away and hold him close at the same time. With a shudder and a moan, her legs twitching under his hands, she came, her head banging back against the cabinets and her nails digging into his skin hard enough that he wondered if she’d drawn blood.

Slowing, he licked her a few more times, enjoying the way her body jumped as he pushed her past pleasure into hypersensitivity. Her hands on his shoulders pushed him away, the message clear. With one last stroke of his tongue, he stood and gathered her against him, wanting to sink inside her here and now. But he hadn’t brought a condom into the kitchen, not expecting this to happen so soon after putting the first batch of cookies in the oven.

The cookies. He became aware that the microwave was beeping, the timer going off, and had been beeping for a while now. And the sweet smell of baking cookies was starting to get the acrid edge of something burning.

“Shit. The cookies.”

Turning, he grabbed a pot holder and yanked the baking sheet out of the oven, setting it on the stove. The dark brown color of the cookies made it hard to tell, but the edges looked distinctly black.

Elena pressed up against him from behind, her arms going around his waist and her head poking out under his arm to look at the cookies. She laughed. “Oh, well. We can finish baking the cookies when we’re less distracted.”

He swiveled around, pulling her against him. “You’re very distracting. But you’re my favorite kind of distraction.”

“Mm. You’re my favorite distraction too.” Something in her tone when she said that made him look at her more closely, but she wouldn’t let him, brushing kisses against his chest and her hand cupping his balls before stroking his still-hard cock. “Someone seems like they need some more distracting.”

And if that was what she meant by distraction, then yes, he definitely needed more. “Couch. I want you to ride me.”

---