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“Okay, okay, okay... Do I sleep in men’s pajamas, nightgown, or nude?”
Ryan looked over at her while he squeezed the remaining juice out of the orange cupped in his palm. Nude? It was rather cute the way she phrased it. Delicate thing. “Nightgown. And no trick questions with answers like, ‘one time, ten years ago,’ or, ‘when I have a date,’ either.” She’d thrown him a bone, an attempt to lull him into a false sense of security, no doubt, with a question she’d told him the answer to already. A test to see if he paid attention? Typical. He had a few tests for her in mind for later.
“Settle
down, I’m not trying to trick you. Okay, two. Favorite before bed drink. Milk, Brandy, or tea…?”
Like taking candy from a baby.
—
“You picked the questions, how could I cheat?” Ryan asked, knowing he’d just pulled off the coup of year.
“I don’t know! Do I have a tell? Is it some kind of gambler’s trick?” Bethany’s tone was accusatory, but her face was rigid, betraying little. She would be the last person to offer a tick or telling gesture that gave away her game. She loved the control too much. All the more satisfying to demand she hand it over to him. In all truth though, she had handed over the game. She had the most irritating habit of talking to herself when it was just the two of them, as if she thought she were alone. And he was always listening. It was his nature.
He liked to know what made the world go ’round. He liked to know what made Beth go ’round. It sure hadn’t been any other men while he’d been teamed up with her. As best as he could tell, she got hit on at least once every business trip, and over six months, she’d had one date that ended with a handshake. No, he knew her well enough to make educated guesses, and most of the time, he’d been lucky.
But he also knew that Beth was the most guarded person he’d ever encountered. So while the idea of testing him on her personal life seemed like a challenge he wouldn’t be able to win, he knew without a shadow of a doubt Bethany Phillips wasn’t about to reveal anything truly personal about herself during the course of a game. The resulting challenge was superficial, and easy enough to gauge for a win.
Beth shook her head, took a deep breath, and straightened her shoulders. “Okay, you won. You’re good, I’ll grant you that. And I’m no welcher, so what would you like me to do?”
Ryan wiped his hands on the dishcloth, slung it over his shoulder, and rubbed his chin as if he didn’t know exactly what he would make her do. “Beth, though you look smashing in it, I’ve seen just about enough of you in drag. Why don’t you take off my clothes?”
There wasn’t much to take off, so she quickly complied, dropping her shorts, and wiggling out of the shirt.
Ryan rinsed the orange off his hands at the faucet and walked back to her.
Her eyes widened at his approach, her lips parted, and she rose up on tiptoes to meet his mouth.
His hands circled her waist and moved up her ribs as he took hold.
“What are you doing?” she asked, laughing when he lifted her up and set her on the counter next to him.
“I can’t take my eyes off of you, but I’m going to collapse if I don’t eat something. This way I get everything I want.” He withdrew a wedge of soft peach from one of the crepes and held it up, offering a bite she delicately accepted.
“Mmm, very good.”
She licked a drop of juice from the corner of her mouth, and the sight of her pink tongue skimming over that blurred line where skin met lip sent blood thundering into his cock. His need for food became secondary to his need for her.
“Move to the edge of the counter and spread your legs wide for me.” The first test.
“I thought you were starving?” she asked, an unusual playfulness in her voice.
“I am, but I’m not sure what I want to sink my teeth into first.”
He looked down at her pussy then dipped his finger into the bowl of whipped cream beside him. Taking one finger to scoop up a small glob, he sank to his knees. “The best of both worlds, I think,” he said, wiping the sweet cream over her bared sex. He followed by lapping at it until her whimper sounded from above.
The flavors of her tang and the cream mingled on his tongue. She was delicious. He reached over to the bowl and swept up two heaping fingers full, painted it over her spread lips and opening, and took to devouring her.
He licked and sucked, probed and laved, savored her taste and response to his touch. Her fingers wove through his hair, and she tightened her grip. He could feel her pulse against his mouth. She was close.
The cream consumed, Ryan pulled back with one, long lick up her center. Between her plumped lips, she shone pink and soft.
Taking another soft slice of peach in hand, Ryan lowered the ripe fruit between her spread legs. He teased the soft tip in narrow circles around her clit, edged down along the slick valley and back up to circle the erect bundle of nerves again, and then he brought the juicy peach up to her mouth. “Taste,” he whispered.
Beth’s teeth dug into her bottom lip. Her chest rose and fell with controlled effort, her wide eyes focused on his face.
Parting her lips, she drew half of the fruit into her mouth with a groan. Ryan returned the remaining half to her exposed folds and painted the succulent meat over her clit in hard strokes until she writhed against the pressure. With a satisfied grin, he popped the half wedge into his mouth.
