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“You.” I toss the papers on the counter and step toward her. She tips her head and searches my face, unable to read my reaction. “Fucking.” She flinches, completely misunderstanding me. “Beautiful.” I grab the back of her neck and pull her toward me. “Omega.” Her body presses against mine, and she inhales my scent. “I love you,” I whisper before claiming her mouth.
A soft moan answers my words, and I devour her like she’s my favorite meal, tasting every inch of her mouth. Slowly, I spin us and guide her back until she bumps into a chair at the table.
“Hold on, baby,” I say, breaking away from our kiss. Scooting the chair aside, I make room to set her on the table. I pat my palm on the glossy wood. “Sit down.”
“I’ll break it.”
“Shut up and get on the table, Quinn.”
“Yes, Chef,” she says and climbs on.
“Fuck, I love when you say that.”
I step between her legs, hooking my finger into the band of her shorts and holding her gaze. Her chest heaves, and her cheeks are red with a flush that’s meant just for me.
“Lift your hips.”
“Like this, Chef?” She places her palms on the table and lifts her ass so I can drag the fabric over it.
“Just like that,” I tell her. I pull her shorts and thong all the way down and toss them aside before sinking to my knees. From this position, when I look up at her, I get a perfect view of her full tits, but her top is in the way.
As if reading my mind, she whips it off and moves to take off her matching red bra. It slides away to reveal two peaked nipples begging to be sucked. I’ll get to those in a moment. But now?
Now I’m going to eat her pussy like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.
Smoothing my palms up her thighs, I tease both of my thumbs through her soaked slit, purring in approval. “Is that for me?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Mmm. My favorite meal, baby.” Gripping her ass, I drag her until she teeters on the edge of the table and guide her legs over my shoulders, holding her gaze as I run my tongue over her.
“Austin,” she murmurs.
“Call me Chef,” I tell her.
“Yes, Chef.”
My cock strains against my jeans, but I can be patient. I flatten my tongue and lick up her slit, slowly and deliberately stopping at her clit to tease it before repeating the process. Quinn’s thighs press against the side of my head every time I play with the bundle of nerves. I want her writhing against my mouth. I want my feast.
I glide my tongue inside of her, licking and tasting her walls before replacing my tongue with two fingers. My lips seal around her clit, and I pump my digits into her. She bucks against my face.
Just like that, baby.
Her clit pulses, and I curl my fingers inside of her.
“Yes, Chef, just like that,” she says, clamping her legs tight around my face and grinding into my mouth and fingers.
I hum, letting the vibration roll over her nerves until she’s panting and making those delicious sounds. Redoubling my efforts, I relentlessly draw my tongue over her clit, thrusting my fingers harder until she jerks and smashes her cunt to my face.
“Fuck,” she squeals. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I don’t stop. I push her harder, flicking over that bud until she’s screamingChefand nearly crushing my head with her legs. Salty and sweet, her cum is fucking ambrosia on my tongue, andI take my time cleaning her up before pulling back and placing a kiss right above her clit.
My fingers are soaked, and I lick them clean, not wasting a drop.
Her gaze roves over my face as I taste her, mouth parted in a little O shape.
“I love the way you taste,” I tell her, rising to my feet and sucking her left nipple into my mouth.
