“Gods, babe,” he groaned, face burrowing between my thighs. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for cookies anymore.”
One hand slid up my inner thigh, and my muscles clenched in anticipation. His thumbs dipped inward to stroke my lips and test how slick I was for him.
“But I still want something sweet,” he said, then playfully bit one cheek. “Grab that bowl and turn around.”
My eyebrows rose at the abrupt change, but I grabbed the unfinished cookie dough and turned until my lower back rested against the counter. Ezra gently took the mixing bowl and set it on the floor before straightening. He was so close that each breath I took pushed my breasts against his chest.
“You’re going to keep your hands on the counter like before,” he commanded, and I set my palms beside me on the granite. “Good girl.”
He slowly ran his hands up my sides to grasp the apron loop around my neck. If he noticed my arms trembling, he didn’t let on. At least not verbally. That fucking smirk though? Oh yeah, he knew exactly what he did to me. I was so wet my inner thighs were slippery, and it was only made worse when he pulled the apron over my head and threw it off to the side.
The shirt went next, except Ezra stopped once it bunched beneath my chin. My breasts spilled out, unhindered by a bra, and his eyes fell to them as they rose and fell in time with my breathing. Nothing missed his inspection. Not my flushed skin and peaked nipples, or the way I less than subtly rubbed my thighs together in search of friction.
“What’s the cookie dough for?” I asked, breathless from the way he stared at me.
Like he wanted to eat me whole and take his time doing it. I had a mind to let him. He ignored my question and pickedup one of the spilled chocolate chips from the counter, his gaze never leaving mine. Pressing the chocolate against my nipple with his thumb, he held it there until the warmth of my skin made it melt. Eyes locked, my breath hitched when he brought that same thumb to his mouth and sucked the excess away.
I want to paint you in chocolate and lick it off your skin.
“Fuck, you can’t say shit like that,” I whimpered, knees wilting at the visual he described.
I’ll do more than say it.
His mouth latched onto my nipple, and my hips jerked at the strong suction. It echoed in my core, tight little pulses that matched the swirl of his tongue. My head hung back, moans falling from my lips as the other hardened nub received attention too. Sharp tugs and hard pinches.
My breasts were never that sensitive until Ezra got a hold of them. He was content to sit there and play, to wait patiently as they stiffened and woke, then ached from his attentions. Flour and oil and a whole bunch of other shit soaked into my hair, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. Not when Ezra released my nipple with a softpopand dropped to his knees once more.
Remember, your hands don’t move.
“Why do you keep telling—oh God.”
It was a friendly reminder, I realized now. And just in time because my hands locked down on that countertop instead of yanking his hair. His mouth was on the move again, sucking at my clit like it was a lollipop and he was in need of a sugar fix.
“More,” I whispered breathlessly, my hips rolling out of control.
Of course, the second I made the demand, he did the opposite. The sound of ceramic sliding across the tile floor wasn’t a big enough hint for what he had planned. I was unprepared for the slightly sticky dough to be pressed between my lips and mixed with my arousal.
“Is that… what I think it is?”
I guess Iamin the mood for cookies.
Ezra dove headfirst into his sweet mess, and I jolted at the exquisite feel of his tongue plunging inside me, chasing every crystal of sugar. He licked at my slit, as if he were starving, until my toes curled, and the first wave of release struck me mute. Mouth open on a scream that couldn’t escape, my entire body vibrated.
He didn’t let up. Right off the peak of my orgasm, two of his long fingers sank deep, and they kept coming, even when I rose onto my tippy toes. I bucked away from the intense pleasure, voice breaking as I cried out again and again.
“Please...I can’t!”
I don’t care if your legs are shaking. I’m. Not. Done.
My head thrashed, whipping my hair into random ingredients and scattering them across the counter. A cloud of flour puffed into the air. The bottle of oil overturned and rained onto the floor. Still, Ezra’s fingers never slowed. I was so wet he couldn’t possibly catch it all, but he lapped at me with targeted swipes of his tongue that had me begging.
Yes. Come on. Scream my name, Rani, and you can have my cock.
“Ezra!”
He stood, one arm hooked under my leg to bring me with him. My bare ass met the cool granite and the chill did nothing but add to my shivering. I was so close. Ezra positioned my foot on the edge of the counter and slid me as far forward as he could without making me fall. My ass hung in mid-air, supported only by his hand and a lot of tense abdominal muscles.
The jingle of a belt buckle, my legs were spread even wider, and then he was there; the hot, blunt head of his cock pushing into my tight core. No matter how many times we did this, he still stretched me to my limits. Filled me completely; his cockforcing its way through my clenching muscles until it bottomed out.
