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When I’d made him pudding–what seemed like months ago–in his mother’s kitchen, there had been an air of light flirtation, a will-they-or-won’t-they. Now, it was an air of oh, they WILL and everything felt like foreplay.
We stood side by side, taking up very little space in this cavernous kitchen. I separated the eggs, letting the white stream into a bowl. Walker whisked–carefully–as he poured in the milk. He’d taken off his tux jacket and rolled
up his sleeves. The muscles in his forearms stood out, I’ve always loved a good forearm.
Once all the ingredients were in the pan and there was nothing to do but stir, Walker pulled me in close. I leaned into him as his hand ran up and down my side, slowly. Over the rise of my hip, into the dip of my waist, up my ribs. His fingers brushed the sides of my breasts before heading back down. Every nerve was alive, but I willed myself to be still. Drea had had her shot at it. Time to let Andrea take over again.
As the custard began to thicken, Walker dipped in a finger and lifted it to my lips. I licked the hot pudding and then sucked his finger into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, the way he’d done to me.
“You’d better eat this fast, if you’re going to,” he growled. “I can’t wait much longer.”
“I think I’ll let it set up, ” I said, pulling him to me. “Let it…get stiff.”
“Mmm,” he purred, “Let’s leave it here. Let’s go.”
He pulled me to a staircase hidden behind a door in the kitchen. It was wide and airy like everything else and led right into a bedroom fit for royalty. No time for a house tour now, though, and pulled me into the room, walking backwards as he kissed me.
He pulled at the zipper in the dress, but it was stuck. With both hands, he ripped it from my body.
“Kiera’s” I said, not actually caring.
“I’ll buy her five new ones,” he said, letting the ruined dress fall to the floor. “Oh, Andrea,” he moaned, kissing the tops of my breasts. “I was afraid I’d lost you.”
He led me to the bed and pulled back the covers. I climbed in, the smooth sheets cool under my skin. I watched Walker take off his shirt and pants. He had the lean muscles of an athlete.
He climbed into the bed and pulled me to him. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are. To think that I almost let you slip away…” He kissed me, his mouth insistent. I felt like I was on fire. All the turmoil of the last few days, not to mention the frustration of wanting to hook up, but just not being able to do it, like I’d been cockblocking myself.
Pulling back, Walker looked at me again, running his hand down my neck, down my arm. He brushed his fingertips across my belly, causing me to quiver. I was well past ticklish. When his hand came up to brush across the mounds of my breasts again, I murmured, “That comes off, you know.”
“What?”
“My bra, it comes off. Do you need a hand?” I smiled at him, knowing it would feel like a challenge to his ability to do everything.
“I got that dress off and it didn’t even want to come off,” he said. “I can show this bra who’s boss if I have to.” He reached around to unhook it. “See?”
I shrugged the straps down as he pulled, relishing that feeling of being freed from constraint.
The firmness he had pressed against my leg grew harder still and a moan slipped out of his throat. Holding a breast in each hand, he lowered his head, sucking a nipple into his mouth. My back arched up as he pulled. A noise between a growl and a moan came from my throat. With the gentlest of nibbles and the strongest of pulls he coaxed my nipples harder than they’d ever been. His fingers caressed the side that was not in his mouth. I writhed beneath him, wishing his mouth could be on all of me at once.
I laced my fingers in his hair, helpless to do more than hold on. His hand slowly slid down my belly to the waist of my lacy thong. As his fingertips slid over the silky fabric, I knew he could feel how wet I was. He traced the edge of the thong, across my hip, down the crease of my leg. I parted my legs more to let him in, need surging through me, my hips rising at his touch.
His kisses moved down the bottom of my breast, down that swell to my ribs, down my belly. He stopped at my navel, dipping his tongue just a bit, causing me to squirm. He kissed down to the top of my panties, pulling the band down, kissing across my mound. I’d been longing for this closeness. His tongue slipped into my cleft, causing me to gasp.
Walker lifted his head and smiled at me as he pulled the thong down. I lifted my hips to let him pull it all the way off.
He kissed the inside of my knee and began working his way up my thigh, my legs opening as he kissed higher. I imagined that each kiss left a lighted spot, each brighter than the last as his mouth got closer to where I needed it to be. At last, his tongue traced the outside of my folds, along the crease of my inner thigh.
My breathing was ragged. I clutched the silky sheets in my hands. When his tongue crested my outer folds and dipped down to lap at my most sensitive spot, I cried out. Expertly, he licked and sucked, circling my bud with the hard tip of his tongue, sucking it into his mouth, pressing against me with the flat of his tongue. My hips bucked up into him, urging more.
I felt his finger exploring my folds before slipping inside me. The combination of his lapping tongue and the finger stroking inside my walls had me shuddering with pleasure. I could feel an orgasm building from deep inside, as if it were gathering power from all corners of my body. As the wave crested over me, he sucked me in hard, thrust his finger up, pressing on that sensitive spot, and just held on while I rocked, lost in the feeling.
As the waves began to ebb, I had to have him inside me. Now. I reached down to pull him up. “Take me, Walker,” I growled. “I want you inside me.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, shucking off his boxer briefs. His length sprang free, fully erect, long and thick. He pulled a condom from the bedside table and rolled it on slowly, watching me. I imagined how it would feel when I got to sheath him with my body. He kissed me, an arm on either side of my head. I could feel his hardness pressing against my mound, twitching with need. I needed the same thing and thrust my hips to rub against him.
I brought up my knees and spread my legs wide. His massive tip pressed against my opening and I pushed down, taking him in just a bit. He stilled me with a hand.
“I like to take it slow. Relatively speaking.” His smile was crooked, but his eyes burned with a desire as great as mine. Slowly, he slid into me, inch by inch. I stretched to take in his girth, the burn exquisite, my core still pulsing from my orgasm. Once fully inside me, he paused and held me, his body pressed against mine.
“I’m claiming you, Andrea,” he murmured in my ear. “I want to be yours, I want you to be mine. I’m right where I’ve wanted to be since I first laid eyes on you. Say you feel it too.”
“I do,” I said.
“I like the sound of that,” he said, raising up enough to look at me. His greenish gold eyes glittered.
He began to thrust in and out, slowly. Each stroke in pushed deep inside me, the bliss of it magnified by the swollen tissue. My moans seemed to come from my very soul, I felt as if were were joined by so much more than just our flesh.
But the flesh part felt really good.
My hips were rocking harder, encouraging him to go faster. He met my rhythm, thrusting harder as he did so. He leaned down to suckle my nipples as he pumped and I soon had another orgasm building up. I grabbed his firm rear, pushing him into me, rocking into him as hard as I could. I came hard that time, I heard myself scream, almost like an animal, as if from far away. Walker’s girth swelled and his thrusting became frantic for a moment before he, too, reached a climax. His hips slammed against me as he came.
Both spent, he collapsed on top of me. As he softened, he rolled aside to toss out the condom and then cuddled against me. We both dozed a little in the glow after our love-making. When I stirred, Walker pulled back a bit to look at me.
“That was even better than I’d hoped,” he said.
I smiled and nodded.
“I’m so sorry you had to think I’d gone to Celia.”
“Yeah, that sucked. But instead of ruining my vacation, you’ve made it the best ever. Not that I have a lot of points of comparison.”
“Well I do, and this was definitely the best. Even better than the one where my mom let me have ice cream for breakfast.”
“Mmm..” I said, “I think there’s pudding in the kitchen.”
> “What good planning that was.”
“I’m a professional caterer. We’re good at that.” I sat up in bed. “Oh wait, you wrecked my dress. I don’t have clothes.”
Walker got out of bed and went to a chest of drawers. I admired the muscles in his ass.
He tossed me a t shirt. “That should do for now. I’m sure I can dig something up later.”
I pulled it on and got out of bed. The shirt smelled of Walker and salt air. It must have been big even on him, as it hung down to the middle of my thighs.
He put on running shorts and I followed him back down the stairs, enjoying the soreness between my legs, the reminder of what I had now.
The pudding was, of course, delicious.
Walker
A line of healthy snack cakes was the best idea I ever had. It introduced me to the love of my life and made me filthy rich. Okay, filthier and richier.
Andrea, as it turned out, was even smarter in the boardroom than in the kitchen. Even if she wasn’t terrific in bed, I’d have wanted her on our team. She had a knack for figuring out exactly what was going to be important to consumers and translating it to a large-scale production. Seriously, you can’t train that into someone.
Aunt Tara’s Treats (named after Andrea’s mother, only fair) have been gobbling up market share as quickly as suburban health nuts have been gobbling up the bars. And, thanks to Andrea, they’re actually a pretty healthy product, not just a candy bar in a health food wrapper.
She was reluctant to quit the personal chef business, but once she started planning our wedding, she decided to let it go, handing over her clients to a friend. Their loss, for sure, but my gain. I eat like a king.
Of course, she drove the wedding caterer batshit, since she knew exactly how things should be done, but it made for one hell of a party. Washington will be talking about that one until a President’s daughter gets married.
The cooking school Andrea started in Anacostia has been a quiet success. She won’t let me trumpet it the way I want to, she worries that it won’t serve the right people if it gets too much press. But she’s hired local cooks and chefs to teach, people with both common sense and economics degrees to offer classes on budgeting for a healthy diet, and she recently put her mom at the helm. Andrea’s been pretty exhausted with this pregnancy.
