Three Sweet Nothings (Blindfold Club 5)

A rush of memories came flooding back. When we’d been together, I’d called her sweetheart occasionally. It slipped out now before I could stop it. A habit that wouldn’t die, or something more? She followed my command, leaning over, and it caused the sweater to lift and expose more of her nakedness.

She was all pink, and lush, and mine.

“Oh, fuck.” She gasped the words as I bent forward and buried my face in the seam of her legs. “Kyle. I can’t do anything when you’re doing that.”

“You can, and you will. Finish,” I gave her a playful bite on a cheek, “or you don’t get to.”

She groaned, both in satisfaction and frustration as I resumed teasing her with my tongue. She tasted so good. Sweet. Perfect. A taste I couldn’t get enough of.

I lifted and separated her ass cheeks so I could get at her clit more, while listening to her soft cries of pleasure and sounds of her struggling to mix her batter.

She muttered it between big breaths. “I’m going to fuck this batch up.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I’m riding your face when I’m supposed to be counting strokes. It usually takes me thirty-five to get it just right.”

“How many have you done so far?”

She turned her upper body halfway around so she could look down at me, and her expression was tortured. “I dunno, three?”

I shoved my tongue between her legs, swiping it over her clit, getting her to flinch with pleasure. I sat back on my heels and peered up at her. “Four.”

The realization dawned on her. She swooped the spatula through the bowl, and looked at me. I grinned, and repeated the long lick, loving the way she felt on my tongue.

“Five,” I said.

The spatula turned the sticky batter.

Ruby’s legs were trembling when we made it to twenty-five, and I figured now was the time to take it to the next level. My tongue started at her clit, but wandered backward . . . all the way back, and up. She jolted and there was a loud bang as her hips crashed into the counter top.

“Twenty-six,” I said. I didn’t hesitate, I just repeated the same motion. “Twenty-seven.”

“Christ,” she moaned.

I’d never rimmed before, and after our discussion of our lists, I’d learned she had never received it, either. Her reaction seemed to be enjoyment, but . . . “Do you like it?”

“It feels so wrong,” she whispered, “and so fucking good.”

Lust bubbled through my veins. She moaned, loud and long, as I delivered another. “Twenty-eight.”

By the time we made it to thirty-five, she could barely stand. She was hunched over the counter, one hand holding the lip of the bowl and the other the spatula. Her legs were quaking, and goosebumps dotted her thighs. I wanted a picture of this moment. Me sporting a huge erection under the ridiculous apron, my hands on her ass, holding her pinned to the counter while I licked her from front to back.

“Are you finished?”

Her voice was almost as shaky as her legs. “I have to put it, uh, in the bag and pipe them.”

“Do it.” I stood up, and since it was bare and calling to me, I slapped my palm against her ass. The skin gave a nice ripple, and she yelped with surprise.

She needed to walk, so I helped her step out of her pants and tossed them onto a chair in the living room. She hurried to do her final task, moving as if she was being timed. I undid the knot at the back of my apron, took it off, and dropped it to the floor.

Ruby was concentrating too much to notice me as she went on filling the sheets with perfect circles of batter. I watched as she did the last one, tossed the pastry bag into the sink, and picked up the cookie sheet. The final step, she’d told me earlier, was to tap the sheet and let out any air pockets. Then, the shells would need to rest for a while before going into the oven.

So when she banged the last sheet against the counter, I knew she was ready to surrender full command to me, eager to get the pleasure my tongue had promised with more than thirty licks.

Her gaze swept over my naked body, lingering on my dick that was so fucking hard for her. I took the trays from her and set them on the kitchen table, clearing space on the counter while she followed my command of “Get naked.”

She stretched the sweater up over her head and flung it away. Her bra was a simple white one, more for her comfort than to impress me, but it didn’t matter. She looked enticing in anything, and nothing at all. Her arms twisted behind her back, the bra was undone, and it fell to the laminate floor.