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I was stunned to hear her actually say it. Still holding her legs in place with my grip on her underwear, I reached down between her pressed-together thighs with my other hand and forced my middle finger into her tight slit. She shuddered and groaned as I sank it in to the knuckle.
She was soaking wet.
“Jesus, Hope,” I moaned. I couldn’t wait another second to be inside her. I shoved the waistband of my jogging pants down and gripped my cock. I aimed it at her dripping pussy, and then I fell forward into heaven.
“Jamie!” she shouted when I bottomed out, my thighs slapping against the cheeks of her ass. She was staring up at me, and now my bodyweight was pinning her knees to her chest. Her panties were stretched between them, right in front of my face. I bit down on them like a gag, tasting her on the slippery fabric. My eyes rolled back in my head. This was ecstasy. She was ecstasy. She was everything I ever wanted.
I loved her before I ever even met her.
“Jamie,” she said again, just a whisper this time. I pulled out and plunged back into her. The way her thighs were bound together made her even tighter than usual, and I was speeding toward an explosion.
I used my teeth to drag her panties up her legs, straightening as I did so until my torso was perpendicular to hers. I ripped them from around her ankles and spat them out, and then I hooked her legs over my shoulders and slid my hands down to cup her ass, lifting it off the bed.
From this angle, I could slide even deeper into her. She was barely breathing, her nails digging into my forearms as I held her up and sank into her again, again, every thrust a little deeper. Her knees fell apart, her legs resting in the crooks of my elbows now, and I leaned forward, pounding into her with slow, powerful strokes.
Our eyes met, and her words floated back to the forefront of my brain.
“You pick whoever you like,” I murmured, pulling out and slamming back in. “You decide if you want me there,” again, “if you want me to participate,” again, “or just sit back and watch you get fucked.”
“Oh, my god,” she gasped, drawing tight around me. I could feel the tremble starting in her thighs.
“The world is your buffet, baby,” I said, increasing my speed as I rammed the full length of my cock into her pussy over and over again, driving us both straight to the climax. The crescendo. She kept her eyes locked on mine, her mouth open in an expression of surprise. “All you can take. All I ask is that if I don’t get to be there while it’s happening, you give me all the juicy details later.”
She answered with a little nod and a whimper. Every small movement of my body was reflected in hers. We were both feeling the tremors, both building, getting close.
With a breathless laugh, I covered her body with mine, cupped her head against my chest, and buried myself inside her, grinding my pubic bone against her clit as my cock swelled, and then I held her tightly while we both came together in slow motion waves. As they crashed over us, we were gasping and panting and giddy.
6.
Hope
My conversation with Jamie followed me around for the rest of the week. I was jumpy and anxious, blushing every time a man glanced in my direction.
It still didn’t seem real. My boyfriend told me I could sleep with other people. You might even say he encouraged me to do so. And he wanted towatch.
The pot on the stove boiled over, dousing the eye’s flame.
“You okay?” Ronnie asked as she swooped in to lift the pot off the burner. She dropped it with a clatter in the empty dish sink and turned back to me with a questioning look. We were just getting started for the day. Boiling pasta technically fell under the sous chef’s purview, but I wasn’t one of those executive chefs who was afraid to get my hands dirty. I enjoyed being involved in every step of the back-of-house work.
Except dishes. If I never did dishes again it would be too soon. One of the things I loved about living with Jamie was that he considered my food a fair exchange for him taking over dish duty the vast majority of the time.
Jamie…
“Hope?” Ronnie said. I blinked and she swam into focus, standing in front of me with her hands on her hips, watching me with a worried look. “You’re a million miles away today.” I flashed her a self-conscious smile. She was a sweet girl, stocky with dark hair and a pretty face. I thought she might be the one to go the distance here at Speedgoat, and eventually take my place when I was ready to move on to greener pastures.
“I’m fine,” I answered at last. I shook my head, doing my damnedest to bring my attention back to the present. It wanted to leap into the future, into fantasy. “Sorry. You want to take over? I’ll go slice the tuna.”
“Already done,” Ronnie announced proudly. She jutted out her chin, her brown eyes sparkling. I raised my eyebrows, impressed. She would be a force to be reckoned with once she got her legs under her.
“The soup?”
“Simmering.”
“The bread dough?”
“Proofing as we speak.” I laughed and shook my head again, this time in admiration. I didn’t have half the gumption that Ronnie did when I was a sous.
“All right, then. I guess I’ll go ahead and take a break. We open in twenty!” I said the last part louder, addressing the room. The busboy and dishwasher—Mark and Jacob—were standing at the back of the kitchen, their heads bent over their phones. They raised their eyes to me and nodded in an identical gesture. They’d been best friends since forever, and they were a good team. The line cooks gave me the faintest nod of acknowledgment.
