She reached for the fork, but he moved her hand away.
“I’m feeding you,” he said. “And you’re going to tell me how delicious these pancakes are after every bite.”
She considered the game. “What do I win for lying?”
“You win more pancakes for telling the truth,” he replied. “And if you’re really enthusiastic about it, I’ll eat my own pancake off your bare skin before licking you clean for dessert.”
“So no flying?”
“It’ll be an appetizer to flying,” he promised her, the fork already slicing through the deliciousness on the plate. “Now open your mouth.”
She parted her lips while gazing up at him with an expression meant to entice. Not that she needed it. He was already hard beneath the apron.
A mixture of succulent flavors hit her tongue, providing the perfect blend of syrup, fruit, cream, and fluffy pancake. She moaned, the response automatic and not forced, and allowed her senses to experience the sweetness of Balthazar’s creation.
He grinned as he fed her another bite, not giving her a chance to speak and only enhancing the sound coming from her throat.
So good, she thought at him.Almost as good as sex.
Nothing is as good as sex between us, he replied.
Hence my use of the term “almost.”
The next piece came, the flavors somehow intensifying with each additional bite. It reminded her of a mounting orgasm, each step taking her that much higher to a euphoric state that left her begging for more.
More sensation.
More flavor.
MoreB.
Her thighs quivered with excitement, her stomach tightening in approval as her tongue worked over the fork. Balthazar’s brown gaze turned into liquid chocolate, his interest a palpable stroke in the air that branded her skin, making her hot all over.
She wanted him to push her down and fuck her on the counter.
But his patience won.
He continued to feed her with one hand while his opposite gently traced the outside of her thigh.
The perfect tease.
A temptation meant to strengthen her arousal and drive her into a frenzy.
He was too damn good at this game. And she absolutely loved him for it.
When the final bite came, it wasn’t on her fork, but from his fingers. She sucked them clean, drawing her tongue around the tip and watching as the liquid chocolate in his eyes turned molten.
“Lie down,” he whispered as he removed the plate.
She complied, his heat temporarily leaving her as he went to deposit her dish in the sink.
But he returned almost as quickly, his fingers trailing along the tops of her thighs as he separated them to create space for his body. The sensation of skin on skin had her eyes flying toward his naked torso.
He’d removed the apron.
And fuck, he was beautiful.
All sensuous lines and muscular valleys.
