mouth. She couldn’t hold out any
longer. Grabbing his coat with one hand, she said, “You don’t need to explain
it. Just show me… show me hard!”
He growled as she pulled him
closer. When their mouths met for the second time, it was fireworks. His
tongue whipped against hers, battling for supremacy. This was exactly how
she’d imagined his kisses: hot, hard, like he was barely in control of his
actions. There was something about the chef that inspired fear in her, and in
everybody, because you never quite knew if he was about to crack.
Holly’s stomach clenched as she
worried again if the restaurant was locked. Pulling away from the chef’s
forceful mouth, she said, “Wait, what if someone walks in?”
He smirked. “Then they’ll find me
sucking your spectacular tits.”
Before Holly could process what Chef
Burley had said, he pulled her satin blouse down her shoulders. She reached
behind her back and unclasped her bra, struggling out of both garments while
the chef dove at her breasts.
“My God!” He traced his cheek across
her chest. “You’ve got the most gorgeous pair I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re just saying that,” Holly
tittered.
Chef Burley’s unseen stubble itched
Holly’s nipples in the most wonderful way. They hardened to pebbles, as if
they could fight off the burn. They couldn’t, of course. His stubble blazed
against her flesh as he rolled both breasts around his charming face.
“You could do that all day!” Holly
moaned as he flicked her nipples with his thumbs. His hands weren’t as soft as
she’d imagined, but she liked their roughness. “Will you suck them?”
Chef Burley glanced up at her, still
toying with her tits. “I thought you said I could do this all day.”
“It’s torture,” she whimpered,
closing her eyes. “Oh god, Chef, I want to feel your hot mouth all over my
body.”
“Everywhere?”
“Yes!”
“Here?” His lips landed against her
sweetly puckered nipple.
“Yes!”
Holly guessed someone with Chef
Burley’s intensity would suck her nipples violently, tearing into them, leaving
her bloodied and sore. She was surprised by the deft care he showed. His
skilled tongue bathed her breasts in warmth. She should have known he would
savour her body like a fine repas .
“Everywhere,” Holly whispered. “I
want to feel your tongue everywhere , Chef.”
“Mmm!”
He didn’t shift from her nipples,
and part of her didn’t want him to. She’d never experienced such full
pleasure. With every lick, she felt larger than life. Her body seemed to
expand, like a helium balloon, floating to the rafters. She watched the scene
from outside herself, and warm desire gushed between her legs.
“Please,” she begged. “Oh please,
Chef Burley, lick me lower.”
“Lower?” He teased her, planting
kisses down her stomach, nipping at the curve of flesh that gave way to her
belly button. “You mean here?”
Holly giggled, pushing his head
away. His hair surprised her. On TV, it looked like it would be crispy and
full of gel, but it wasn’t. It was soft—soft and blond and beautiful. She
wove her fingers through it, then made a fist. She expected him to wince, but
he didn’t. He only looked up at her, his eyes burning with desire. They
seemed to say, “Don’t go there unless you mean it.”
But Holly was serious as hell.
“Lick me, Chef.”
As their violent stares mingled,
Holly wondered just who was in control, here. She got the sense, from his TV
presence, that Chef Burley would never do anything he didn’t want to.
Staring him down, she asked, “Do you
like the taste of pussy, Chef?”
His eyes blazed, like the question
made him angry. For a moment, Holly cringed. She had no idea what this man
was capable of.
Chef Burley grabbed her thighs and
spread
longer. Grabbing his coat with one hand, she said, “You don’t need to explain
it. Just show me… show me hard!”
He growled as she pulled him
closer. When their mouths met for the second time, it was fireworks. His
tongue whipped against hers, battling for supremacy. This was exactly how
she’d imagined his kisses: hot, hard, like he was barely in control of his
actions. There was something about the chef that inspired fear in her, and in
everybody, because you never quite knew if he was about to crack.
Holly’s stomach clenched as she
worried again if the restaurant was locked. Pulling away from the chef’s
forceful mouth, she said, “Wait, what if someone walks in?”
He smirked. “Then they’ll find me
sucking your spectacular tits.”
Before Holly could process what Chef
Burley had said, he pulled her satin blouse down her shoulders. She reached
behind her back and unclasped her bra, struggling out of both garments while
the chef dove at her breasts.
“My God!” He traced his cheek across
her chest. “You’ve got the most gorgeous pair I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re just saying that,” Holly
tittered.
Chef Burley’s unseen stubble itched
Holly’s nipples in the most wonderful way. They hardened to pebbles, as if
they could fight off the burn. They couldn’t, of course. His stubble blazed
against her flesh as he rolled both breasts around his charming face.
“You could do that all day!” Holly
moaned as he flicked her nipples with his thumbs. His hands weren’t as soft as
she’d imagined, but she liked their roughness. “Will you suck them?”
Chef Burley glanced up at her, still
toying with her tits. “I thought you said I could do this all day.”
“It’s torture,” she whimpered,
closing her eyes. “Oh god, Chef, I want to feel your hot mouth all over my
body.”
“Everywhere?”
“Yes!”
“Here?” His lips landed against her
sweetly puckered nipple.
“Yes!”
Holly guessed someone with Chef
Burley’s intensity would suck her nipples violently, tearing into them, leaving
her bloodied and sore. She was surprised by the deft care he showed. His
skilled tongue bathed her breasts in warmth. She should have known he would
savour her body like a fine repas .
“Everywhere,” Holly whispered. “I
want to feel your tongue everywhere , Chef.”
“Mmm!”
He didn’t shift from her nipples,
and part of her didn’t want him to. She’d never experienced such full
pleasure. With every lick, she felt larger than life. Her body seemed to
expand, like a helium balloon, floating to the rafters. She watched the scene
from outside herself, and warm desire gushed between her legs.
“Please,” she begged. “Oh please,
Chef Burley, lick me lower.”
“Lower?” He teased her, planting
kisses down her stomach, nipping at the curve of flesh that gave way to her
belly button. “You mean here?”
Holly giggled, pushing his head
away. His hair surprised her. On TV, it looked like it would be crispy and
full of gel, but it wasn’t. It was soft—soft and blond and beautiful. She
wove her fingers through it, then made a fist. She expected him to wince, but
he didn’t. He only looked up at her, his eyes burning with desire. They
seemed to say, “Don’t go there unless you mean it.”
But Holly was serious as hell.
“Lick me, Chef.”
As their violent stares mingled,
Holly wondered just who was in control, here. She got the sense, from his TV
presence, that Chef Burley would never do anything he didn’t want to.
Staring him down, she asked, “Do you
like the taste of pussy, Chef?”
His eyes blazed, like the question
made him angry. For a moment, Holly cringed. She had no idea what this man
was capable of.
Chef Burley grabbed her thighs and
spread
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