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“A taste test?”
“Yes.” I lead him to the couch and make him sit. “I’ll let you taste something. You’ll tell me what it is.”
“And we’re doing this because…?”
“It’s going to be fun,” I answer. “Don’t you want to have some fun?”
“I do, but—”
I silence him with a long, firm kiss, one which leaves both me and Ryker out of breath. I take a moment after to catch mine.
“See. Isn’t this fun?”
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll play along.”
“Good.”
“But no feeding me any weird stuff, okay? No exotic stuff. No vomit-flavored jellybeans. Nothing too spicy.”
“There will be none of that.” I place my hands on his cheek and try to hold his gaze through the mask. “I won’t kill you. I promise.”
“Promise?”
“In fact, I’m quite sure you’ll like everything I’ve prepared.”
Ryker shrugs. “Okay then.”
I give him another kiss, just to ease any of the worries he has left. As I do, I loosen his tie and start to unbutton his shirt.
Ryker pulls away. “What are you doing?”
“Making things more fun,” I answer. “Besides, you don’t want to get anything on your shirt, do you?”
“Okay.”
I step back and pause to admire my handiwork.
Damn. Even with a mask on, I can still see Ryker’s perfect features. In fact, it seems to accentuate his chiseled cheeks and his square chin. And his bare torso is just… candy. I can see his dark nipples standing out against his pale skin, which is coated by just a thin layer of hair. I can see the dips and curves of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen.
I lick my lips. I want to taste. I want to sit on his lap and have his cock inside me right now. My pussy is tingling just from the thought of it. But no. Not yet.
I made the effort to come up with a game plan. I have to stick to it.
I head to the kitchen to change into my outfit—my apron. Just because Ryker can’t see me doesn’t mean I don’t have to look sexy. He’s in his ‘costume’. I have to wear mine, too. Then I grab the food I’ve prepared for the taste test.
“Ready?” I ask Ryker as I come back to the living room.
“Yup.”
I start with something easy—the brownie I got from the bakery.
“Say ‘ah’.”
Ryker opens his mouth. I put the brownie in. He chews.
“Brownie.”
“Excellent,” I praise him. “Now, this.”
I give him a large crumb of blue cheese. I know some people find it weird, but I have a feeling Ryker doesn’t mind the strong flavor.
“Blue cheese,” he says with an expression of mild distaste.
My eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like it?”
“I don’t mind it with crackers or chicken. On its own, I’m not a fan.”
“Okay. Sorry about that.”
Maybe I should give him some wine to wash it down.
“Just give me a second.”
I go back to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of dry Riesling. Make that two glasses. I finish one. Then I carry the other to the living room and bring it to Ryker’s lips.
“Drink,” I tell him.
He obeys. I let him finish the whole glass before I take it away.
Ryker licks his lips. “Is this part of the taste test?”
“Yes.”
“So I’m supposed to say what wine it is?”
“If you can.”
He pauses. “Sauvignon Blanc?”
“Nope. But you’re close.”
At least he named a white wine variety.
“Hmm.” He purses his lips. “Ah. Riesling?”
I smile. “Impressive.”
Then again, I suppose rich men know their wines.
“Let’s move on, shall we?”
Ryker nods.
“Say ‘ah’.”
He opens his mouth. I get the cherry from the bowl and put the stalk between my lips. Then I let him trap the cherry between his. Our lips meet just before the stalk breaks off. I brush mine against his before pulling away. Then I take the stalk out of my mouth.
“So?”
He swallows. “Cherry.”
“Very good.” I clap my hands. “Now, this.”
I grab the strawberry and let him take a bite. As he does, the red juice trickles down his chin. A drop falls on his stomach.
Perfect.
“Oops.” I try to sound surprised even though I meant for this to happen. “Let me clean that up.”
I kneel between Ryker’s legs. As I do, my gaze falls on his crotch. He still isn’t hard. I have to applaud his self-control.
But I have a feeling that isn’t going to last much longer. In fact, I’m going to make sure of it.
I lean forward and swipe the drop of strawberry juice off Ryker’s skin, right above his navel, with the tip of my tongue. It’s just one drop, and one lick should be enough to clean it, but I keep licking. And not just there.
With the tip of my tongue, I start to trace a circle around his navel.
“What are you doing?” Ryker asks.
I hear the tinge of worry in his voice, but also the excitement.
“Cleaning you up,” I answer as I continue with the circle, which eventually becomes a spiral, closing in on Ryker’s navel.
