Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
"As long as you're okay with distractions..."
She bites her lip, looking down at my manhood making a tent of my briefs.
"I mean, I have to be," I go on, stepping forward and caressing her breasts through her top. "Your nipples poking through are making me so horny. It's like your body is begging for attention, begging me to..."
I lean down and suck her nipples through the fabric, then pull down her shirt and reveal her breasts. She gasps as I suck one of her nipples, then the other, pushing her plump, big tits together, groaning when I feel her trembling.
"Killian," she gasps.
"I know," I whisper, leaning back, finding her lips instead.
As we kiss, her naked breasts press against my chest. I slide my hands down her body and hold her hips tightly, greedily sinking my hands in. She pushes against my chest.
"I think we should get dressed if we have any chance of doing this."
I smirk. "You've got a point, but the issue is, you're just as sexy fully clothed..."
"It gives us a chance, at least," she moans.
"Let's try it." I grin. "Then you can boss me around."
We both get dressed. I return wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Lucy has changed into sweatpants and a hoodie. But with the hoodie still outlining her luscious lumps and the gray sweats showing the shape of her round ass, my steel is still solid.
"Job number one, we need to clean and prep our baking area."
"Yes, ma'am," I say, snapping off a salute.
She laughs. "You're such a dork."
"Only when I'm with you."
"Do you do much cooking?" she asks as I wipe down the surfaces. "In your restaurants?"
"I handle the business," I tell her. "I've always been more comfortable with numbers, meetings, that side of things. I'm here as your humble student..."
"First, we need to measure the flour... properly."
"You better tell me what you mean by 'properly' so I don't make any unforgivable mistakes," I say.
She points her finger at me. "It means, my humble student, that we spoon and level it. We don't scoop it. We don't want dense scones. I'll do that. You get the butter out of the fridge. I'll give you the privilege of rubbing the butter into the flour... wash your hands first. You must use your fingers."
"I think I can manage using my fingers..."
Her eyes grow wide, and lust-filled. The look is enough to make me ache. I rush forward again. The gasping, moaning noise that comes from her perfect lips before we kiss makes me even wilder. It's a noise that says she's been waiting for me to kiss her ever since the last one, like she's as hungry for it as I am.
We sink close together, my hand gliding up her leg, finding her sex and massaging it possessively. She moves her hand to my groin again, rubbing my thickness through my shorts.
"Killian." She moans. "How do you keep doing that?"
"It's you," I groan. "You're more addictive than sugar."
"Get the butter," she says in a commanding tone. "And no more funny business."
"There's nothing funny about how badly I need you, a stór."
I get the butter from the fridge as she measures the flour. She then tips the flour into a bowl and places it down, takes the butter, measures it, then hands it to me.
"Okay, now, I want you to gently use your fingertips to rub the butter into the flour. Don't knead it. It's not bread... why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" I ask.
"Like you've never seen somebody baking before."
"It's your passion," I tell her. "I love watching you work."
"I think I'm going to love watching you work even more."
I chuckle, turning to the bowl. "Touché."
I put my hands into the bowl, working my fingertips into the butter and the flour. She stands close to me, peering down, inspecting my work. I can't resist the urge, though... which is a theme with us.
She gasps when I dab a ball of butter and flour onto her nose.
"Did you just assault your teacher?" she says, laughing.
"Maybe I did. What're you going to do about it?"
She dips her hand into the bowl. "Don't start something you can't finish."
She flings a ball of butter at me. It lands on my shirt. I laugh and rush toward her, sweeping her into my arms. "Why do I feel like this dish will never be done?"
"Because you can't control yourself, maybe?"
"Or it's because there's no point baking a dish when I've already got what I want..."
Another kiss, this time with more purpose, more intensity. I lift her up and she wraps her legs around me, gasping when I carry her into the living room. I lay her on the couch, never letting our lips separate, my pole pushing insistently against my shorts.
"Killian," she moans, sliding her hand down my body, rubbing the outside of my shorts. "I want you. But I'm scared. This is so new to me."