Page 40 of The Biker and the Baker
Cupping her chin, I tip her head back with my thumb, then lean down and suck her silky, soft skin into my mouth, nipping with my teeth before letting go.
She moans and arches her neck for more, so I give her more, licking and sucking and biting. And oh, how shelovesit.
Again, I ask, "How many times have you thought about fucking me this week?"
And again, she lies, "Z-Zero."
I work my hand down inside her pants, and just as I suspected, she's soaked. Proof that I do it for her. Big time.
She whimpers when I cup her pussy and apply pressure with the heel of my palm.
"One hundred times ten," I tell her. "That's how many times I thought about fucking you."
"We...we shouldn't do this in here…" she breathes. But her words are half-hearted. Shewantsto do this in here.
Still cupping her, I drive her back away from the station. When her back hits the wall, her hat shifts to the side and a long, dark tendril spirals out.
She peers up at me with consenting, heavy-lidded eyes.Oh, man,does she want me. She’ll never admit it with her words, but those eyes don't lie.
I nip at her lower lip before sweeping my tongue across it, never kissing her. She's got another pair of lips I'd like to kiss.
Withdrawing my hand from inside her pants, I curl my thumbs in the waistbands of her pants and panties and pull them down, going down along with them, smooth and easy.
She doesn't try to stop me. Instead, she grabs my head and thrusts her hips forward, riled, and randy.
Inhaling her intoxicating scent, I brush my knuckles against her clit, eliciting a soft cry from her. Fuck if that sound doesn’t drive me insane. Soft and gentle, I blow on her, before gifting her lips a kiss, and then another, before flicking my tongue at the peak of her nerves.
She’s going out of her mind, hips rocking forward over and over. Hands on my head, she tries to force herself closer, begging for more than my deliberate teasing.
So, I give her more. I grip her hips and bury my face in her pussy. The hoarse whimper of submission that leaves her is music to my ears. I eat her with fucking passion and purpose. With the ferocity of a starved lion.
She wails and writhes and trembles on my face, mumbling all manner of things, none of them intelligible. But I don't let up, not until she's stiffening and shaking all at once, her silky cum coating my tongue.
As she creeps down from her high, I straighten, pulling her pants and panties back up as I do. Licking her taste off my lips, I flatten my palms to the wall behind her, caging her in. Kiss one corner of her mouth, and then the other.
"Now, tell me," I try again. "How many times have you thought about fucking me this week?"
Sated, she blinks, slow and languid. "Zero times zero."
"Stubborn, stubborn woman." I cup her face and kiss her deep, long, and intentional, only letting up so she can catch her breath. "You're coming home with me tonight."
She shoves me away. "Thanks for the orgasm, but I have work to do."
"That's fine, I can wait," I tell her. "Could even help if you’d like."
She eyes me skeptically before moving to the sink to clean her hands. "What do you know about baking?”
I scan the ingredients. "You're making blueberry lemon pound cakes, right?"
Her eye roll is telling, annoyed that I know my shit. "Of course. As if being hot, sexy, and skilled with your fingers and tongue isn't enough."
My grin is full-fledged. "C’mon, babe, Cookie's my aunt. Whywouldn’tI know my way around the kitchen? She basically raised me after my mom left. I was a troublemaker and she was as strict as they came, so I spent more time planted in the kitchen helping her bake than I care to admit."
"As punishment?"
"Yep."
She's contemplatively quiet as she moves back to the station and begins measuring and weighing ingredients. Then, hesitantly, she asks, "Your mom left you?"
