“Great.” I take the spicy pico de gallo that I just finished making and add a spoonful of it in.
She looks back over her shoulder, frowning.
“Trust me, you’ll enjoy the spice.” And without thought, I lean down and press a kiss to her pouting lips. In spite of the urge I have to deepen the kiss, I lift my head. I reach for the half of lime and squeeze it over the avocado, before gesturing toward the mortar and pestle and taking her hands into mine again.
“Now, we mash.”
I move her hands, slowly, using the pestle to break the halves of the green fruit into smaller and smaller pieces until it forms a thick dip. Just as that happens, the timer we were given goes off, signaling that our tortillas are ready to come out of the oven. I grab the oven mitt and stand to the side slightly as I pull the oven open, reaching in for the tray holding our tortillas. Before closing, I check on our flan on the bottom rack. It’s looking good.
“How’s the flan?” Nadine asks as I arrive back to our counter with the tortillas, sliding them into the wooden basket that’s been lined with paper.
“Should be done in about ten minutes.”
She nods. “I’m starving,” she comments, eyeing the chips but holding back to let them cool off.
I pick one of the chips up and blow on it to make sure it’s cooled down enough. Dipping it into the guacamole we’d just made, I then lift it to those perfect lips of hers. “Taste.”
She hesitates before doing so. But when her eyes catch mine, her lips part, allowing me to slide the chip inside of her mouth. A small amount of guacamole gets caught at the corner of her lips. I use my thumb to wipe it away, and raise it to my own mouth, sucking it off my finger.
“Perfect.”
Her eyelids flutter. “Yes,” she says, a sexy ass note in her tone.
We spend the rest of the night in the cooking class, me helping Nadine to cook, relying less on the instructions and more on her gut. She’s reluctant. I surmise it’s how she’s lived her life up until this point. Follow the rules, if you want to get ahead. Her entire demeanor screams it. I look forward to seeing her break out of that more and more as we spend time together over the next few days.
****
Janine
“I’m stuffed,” I hum as we arrive at the door of my hotel room.
Emanuel looks down at me, those sizzling eyes of his dissecting my every move. At least, that’s how it feels.
“Thank you for planning such a great day.” He’d had the day all planned out since we left for breakfast in the morning. A glass bottom boat and snorkeling excursion followed by a light lunch on the beach, a walking tour of the city and an opportunity to pick up some souvenirs before heading back to our rooms to shower and change before our three-hour long cooking class. It was a great class; the food was delicious as well as the drinks.
“We’ve still got two more days, butterfly.”
I wrinkle my forehead. “What’s with the butterfly thing?”
A slow smile materializes on that handsome face of his, and it’s far from innocent. “It’s how I see you.”
I don’t get the chance to inquire what he means by that because he dips his head and captures my lips with his own. I don’t know if it’s the three mojitos I had with dinner, but this time, I’m much less caught off guard by the kiss. I don’t hesitate in parting my lips for him and giving in to the moment. I’ve wanted him to kiss me all day since that first time.
When his hands encircle my waist, pulling me into his hard body, I allow myself to be pulled. I gasp into his mouth at the feeling of his erection as it pokes my belly. He chuckles against my mouth before biting my lower lip, eliciting a moan from me. I should be embarrassed at how turned on I am. But I’m not. I want more.
Lifting my arms, I wrap them around his broad shoulders, pulling his body to mine as much as he’s pulling me into his. Our tongues, explore, taste, and retreat, repeating over and over again the deep inspection of one another’s bodies. Emanuel lets out a tight groan and my nipples instantly pebble.
I feel one of his large hands moving down the side of my body, reaching my thigh and moving around to the front, reaching upwards to my inner thigh. I gasp when his strong hand reaches the sensitive skin in between my legs. A place only one man ever had the privilege of touching. Shame isn’t what I feel, however. It’s excitement. And anticipation.
Emanuel knows this because he draws out every second as he trails his hand up, closer and closer to my hidden treasure. When he reaches the apex of my thighs, bumping against the cotton thong I wear, his thumb begins searching for my clit. He makes tiny circles, rubbing against my sensitive flesh.
I moan into his mouth.
His other hand wraps around the back of my head, taking the ends of my braids and pulling my head back, giving him a better angle to continue stealing the air from my lungs with his kiss, while his lower hand sends my entire body spinning.
I cling onto his shoulders when his prodding below intensifies. His thumb flicks my clit once, twice, three times, and before I know what is happening, my eyes squeeze shut, and I pull back from his mouth, burying my head into his chest, instinctively clamping my mouth shut as an orgasm takes hold.
I continue to pant against his body for a long while.
