I grab the plate of fish, the bass I caught yesterday pan-seared with lemon and dill. The meat flakes perfectly under my fork. I blow on it to cool it, then hold it to her mouth.
“Careful. It’s hot.”
She takes the bite, and I watch her face as she tastes it. The way her full lips close around the fork, how her throat works when she swallows, the little furrow between her eyebrows while she thinks.
“Some kind of mild fish. Is it bass?”
“Damn, Doc. You’re making this too easy.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Caught it yesterday in the creek that runs through my property.” I set the plate aside, move closer. My hand finds her knee under the table, callused palm rough against her jeans. “You’re not even trying anymore.”
“Maybe I like it when you feed me.” Her voice has dropped, gone softer. “What else do you have?”
I grab the bottle of sparkling wine I’ve been chilling, pouring two glasses. When I bring one to her lips, she sips and some spills down her chin. Without thinking, I lean in and lick it away.
She gasps, her hand flying up to grip my wrist. “Hunter.”
“You needed help.”
“That’s not part of the game.”
“Isn’t it?” My voice is husky as I kiss the corner of her mouth where a drop still clings.
Her breathing’s gone shallow and quick, and I can see her pulse jumping in her throat. The urge to strip that blindfold off and watch her eyes while I touch her nearly breaks me. But I know my patience will pay off.
“What’s next?” This time her question sounds like a dare.
I grab a strawberry from the bowl and hold it to her lips. “Open.” She bites, the juice running down her chin. This time I use my thumb to catch it, then bring my thumb to her mouth where she licks it clean.
I'm rock-hard now, my joggers doing nothing to my cock as it kicks against my joggers. “Christ, Claire.”
“What?” Her voice is sugary innocence, but her foot has found mine, and it’s slowly rubbing against my ankle.
“You’re playing dirty, Doc.” I shift in my chair, adjusting myself. “My self-control is hanging by a thread here.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for. Now feed me.”
I feed her another strawberry, then pineapple, watching her mouth close around each piece. The game’s dissolving fast, turning into something else entirely. When I dip my finger in the chocolate hazelnut spread and bring it to her lips, she takes my whole finger into her mouth and sucks, swirling her tongue around my finger.
“Claire.” It comes out like gravel as my free hand grips the table edge so hard that the wood bites into my palm.
She releases my finger slow, then licks her bottom lip. “I can taste the chocolate and something else. Hazelnut spread? Because I know exactly what we can do with that later.”
My control snaps.
I yank her to me and kiss her, my mouth hungry and possessive. I pull back just as quickly. “Noted.”
I’m already reaching for the whipped cream, and when I put some on her lips, I don’t give her a chance to guess. I just lean in and kiss it off her mouth.
She makes this sound in her throat, halfway between a gasp and a moan, and her hands slide into my hair. The kiss goes deep fast, her tongue tasting like chocolate and strawberries and want.
When I pull back, we’re both breathing hard.
“The blindfold,” she says.
“You want it off?”
