Page 25 of Matched with the Small Town Chef

And I want to give him everything.

He moves back between my thighs, brushing his knuckles along my soaked panties.

“You’re trembling.” He smiles faintly. “Perfect.”

He peels the fabric down agonizingly slow, lips following the motion, kissing the path he exposes. Then his mouth is on me again—not gentle this time, but claiming. Ruthless.

I cry out. Hands straining against the belt. Back arching. Body unraveling.

“Stay down,” he murmurs, not even looking up. “Take it. All of it.”

I try. God, I try.

But it’s too much—his tongue, his fingers, the weight of being owned in this moment.

“Hunter—please—I can’t?—”

He looks up now, mouth wet with me, eyes alight with heat and power.

“Yes, you can.” His voice is steel wrapped in silk. “I decide when you come. Not you.”

He returns to his task like a man starving. Every flick of his tongue is deliberate. Every sound he pulls from me is absorbed with purpose. Controlled chaos beneath his hands.

And when he finally slides two fingers inside me, curling them in just the right way, I nearly scream.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let me break you open.”

7

Say Please

Hunter’s mouth is a weapon. He used it to drive me higher and higher—expert, merciless, devastating. The pleasure builds in sharp, shattering waves, like something alive clawing up my spine. My thighs tremble against his shoulders, the bindings at my wrists cutting delicious tension through my arms.

I’m right there. So close it’s agony.

“Please,” I gasp. “Please, Hunter—let me?—”

He pulls back just enough to speak, lips brushing slick heat.

“You want to come?” His voice is ruined velvet. “Say it.”

“Yes—God, yes—please let me come, I need it?—”

His eyes meet mine—dark, commanding, utterly in control.

“Then come for me, Audrey.”

A beat.

“Now.”

The permission detonates inside me.

My body convulses. Shudders. Breaks.

Sound tears from my throat, raw and unfiltered. My hips buck against his mouth as he keeps working me through it, relentless and reverent all at once.

He doesn’t stop until I’m shaking, breathless, wrecked, and trembling in my restraints.

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