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Dominick
“I’m one lucky motherfucker,” I said as I opened my front door while the most gorgeous girl stood on the other side, dressed in a pair of cutoffs and a tank top with flip-flops on her feet and not a drop of makeup on.
She waited for my eyes to return to hers after they traveled the length of her body before she replied, “Two rounds of hair and makeup today and six outfit changes. My body is tired of clothes, and my face needed to breathe.”
“You’re more than welcome to show up naked. No need to get dressed for me.” My hands went to her waist, pulling her inside. “And I prefer you without makeup.”
She dropped her bag on the floor, her arms circling my neck. “Mmm,” she moaned as she kissed me. “I’ve been thinking about your lips all day.” As she pulled away, she touched hers, first the top and then the bottom, as though I’d left something behind.
“My lips?”
She nodded. “They’re soft and so dominant. I know exactly how you’re feeling by the way you kiss me.”
“How about tonight?”
She smiled. “Hungry.”
I chuckled, shutting the door behind her. I then took the overnight bag from the floor and placed it on the couch, returning to her side.
She linked her fingers through mine. “I used to have to dream about them, fantasizing about their taste and feel.” She rose on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth against mine. “Now, I can kiss you whenever I want, and I love that.”
I cupped her ass, searching for a panty line. When I didn’t feel one, I growled at the thought of her bare pussy rubbing against her shorts.
“My face isn’t the only thing that likes to breathe,” she whispered. “That’s why I never wear them.”
“And you expect me to get through dinner with that knowledge in my head?” I squeezed her ass even harder. “That I just have to take these off and your pussy is ready for me to eat.”
“Let’s see how long you can make it.” She smiled. “Besides, it would be a shame to skip dinner. I’m sure whatever you cooked is going to be incredible.”
I could say the same thing about her cunt, but I held her face still and kissed her instead.
When our mouths separated, my grip dropped to her chin, taking in her beautiful eyes. “We’re having barbeque.”
“Yum.” She nibbled her lip. “And I brought dessert.”
I rubbed that forbidden spot between her cheeks. “I hope it’s this.”
She laughed as she walked over to the couch, removing Tupperware from her bag. “I baked.” She opened the lid to show me.
Inside were several rows of chocolate-covered balls. I grabbed one and bit off half.
“What are they?” It took a moment before the inside melted over my tongue. “Jesus, this is fucking good.”
“Aren’t they heavenly?” She popped a whole one into her mouth. “They’re cake balls, and it saddens me that you’ve never had one before.”
“You know I’m not into dessert.”
She winked, handing me another. “And you know I’m determined to change that about you.” She pointed to the new one in my hand. “That’s red velvet. I wasn’t sure what kind you’d like more, so I made a few different flavors. The first one you had was peanut butter, obviously. There’s also Oreo and butter cake.”
“When did you have time to make these?”
“At three this morning.”
“Kendall …”
“You’re worth it, so don’t even.”
I kissed her again, giving her a taste of the red velvet I’d just finished devouring. “They’re really excellent. Gooey cake, balled up and dunked in chocolate. Fucking genius.”
“Thank you.” She put the lid on the container. “We’ll save these for after dinner.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “Put me to work. I want to help with what you’ve got going on in there.”
I held her against me for several more seconds, needing to feel more of her body. “I was waiting for you to get here before I threw the steaks on the grill. Veggies are going on there too. Potatoes are in the oven.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it handled. I’ll set the table.”
“Already done.”
I brought her into the kitchen, where the meat was sitting in a pool of marinade, rising to room temperature—a trick I’d learned from my father that made the beef juicier. The vegetables were next to it, all cut to the size I wanted.
She eyed up both and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I’m impressed. Admittedly, I semi-expected your chef to be here. I’m really happy he’s not.”
My thumb traced her bottom lip before I kissed it.
The truth was, our chef was tied up at Ford’s house tonight, but I wouldn’t have used him. I knew my cooking would mean more to Kendall than having my chef here.
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“I’ll start grilling.”
She loosened her arms, and I took the meat and vegetables outside. There were four different cuts of beef that I set on the grill—my goal was to give us a variety of flavors. On the other side of the flames, I lined up the large mushroom caps and cubed onions that I wanted caramelized for the steaks along with bell peppers and jalapeños. I made sure the temperature wasn’t too high and shut the lid.
“Thirsty?”
I nodded. “There are limes by the bar and several different kinds of tequila on the shelves. If you’re feeling wine, there’s red in the racks and white in the fridge below.”
“Fresh lime juice. God, you’re amazing.” Her fingers went to my face, and I kissed them before they landed. “What can I get you?”
“Red. It’ll go perfectly with dinner.”
