“Are you . . . smelling me?” she asks.
With a scoff, I lean back. “No. That would be weird.”
“Yes, you were.” She spins to face me. “You were just smelling my hair, and don’t try to deny it.”
“Ach, maybe a little sniff. I like the way your shampoo smells.”
Quinn bats her eyelashes and smiles up at me, easing my embarrassment. “It’s my body spray, actually, and thanks. I put iteverywhere.”
“Is that so?” I step a little closer, sensing the teasing tone in her soft voice. My hands go to her hips, and I ease her into me. “Maybe you can let me follow my nose, huh?”
“Okay, Toucan Sam,” she says with a giggle.
She lets out a squeal as I lift her by the waist and place her ass on the wooden prep table. If Chef Maurice were here, he’d be screaming about sanitation, but there’s nothing to stop me as I step between her gorgeous thighs and kiss her.
Quinn’s hands burrow through my hair. Her nails drag along my scalp and send tingles down my spine. For the first time, I feel the butterflies everyone always talks about. My abdomen quivers with expectation each time her tongue brushes against mine. The little whimpers I swallow from her needy mouth only fuel my hunger. She hardens me to the point of pain, and she hasn’t even tried.
“God, I want you,” she whispers against my lips.
“Aye, lass. I want you too. More than I should. More than you know.”
Her hand finds my cock through the outside of my dress pants. “Oh, I know.”
With a growl, I kiss her again, reveling in the way her eager hands squeeze and touch and tease me. But when her thumb grazes the piercing, I jerk my hips back with a sudden intake of breath.
“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t realize you were that sensitive.”
Thank fuck she didn’t notice the metal ball, but now what do I do? I’ve started the machine, but I forgot that she can’t glimpsethe machine’s inner workings. If she sees my piercing, she’ll know the truth.
“We should probably get to dinner,” I say. “If Chef catches us fooling around, he’ll lose his shit and turn us into the main course.”
Quinn nibbles her bottom lip and raises the slit in her skirt a little higher. I see no panty line, and my mouth begins to water.
“Maybe you have time for an appetizer?” Her hand dips beneath the velvet and comes up glistening. “Here, have a taste.”
I step forward and accept her fingers into my mouth. The moment her pleasure touches my tongue, my eyes close and I let out a low groan. Quinn tastes like every fantasy I’ve ever conjured. She tastes like my demise.
And I welcome it with an open mouth as I drop to my knees.
My arms slip below her legs, and my hands find the small of her back. I pull her toward my waiting lips and cover her glistening cunt with my mouth. Using the tip of my tongue, I tease her from her entrance to her clit. I refuse to leave a drop behind.
Her short nails rake against my scalp, and she tips her head back with a moan as my tongue eases through her slit again. I pull one of the plump lips into my mouth and suck, which earns another sweet sound from her. It’s clear that I’m not cut out for protection work. If my boss were anyone other than Jim, this would get me fired. Something tells me Jim would just give me a promotion. This is what he wanted all along.
And now, it’s what I want. More than anything.
I suck her clit into my mouth, and she rocks against me with a whimper. The lass is a green goddess as I look up at her and lave that warmth between her legs. My hands run up her thighs, reveling in that blessed thickness. I close my eyes and squeeze all that skin within my hands, and my low growl rolls against something sensitive. She jerks and rocks her hips again.
“Please fuck me, Aven,” she begs on a whisper. “I need you.”
The lower half of my body nearly rockets me to a standing position so that I can undo my pants and give the wee lass what she’s asking for, but the upper half of my body—specifically, my caveman brain—screams that we can’t. That damned piercing is seriously fucking everything at this point. Everything aside from what I want it to fuck!
I dive back into her pussy and hope that my oral skills are enough to derail her train of thought, but the girl is desperate for my dick. So desperate that she grabs my head and pushes it away from my dinner.
“I was enjoying that,” I say as I try to get back in there, but she holds me at bay.
“Is there a reason you don’t want to have sex with me?” she asks. “It’s okay if so. I won’t keep pressuring you if it’s not something you want.”
I shake my head and stand. “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s not a matter of want. Just...Can you give me a little more time, lass?”
