Finally, I sigh. “So, it was your turn to plan our date tonight. What are we doing? Want to order take-out?”
He shakes his head. “I’m hungry for fried zucchini. So I thought we’d try to make it.”
I stare at him. “You thought we’d try to make fried zucchini? Um. I should mention that my family owns a restaurant, but I don’t really cook. Much. And who in the world gets hungry for zucchini?”
Pax laughs and drags me up the stairs. “My housekeeper used to make it when I was growing up. I loved it. So I looked for the recipe online today. I went to the grocery store and everything. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Now you’ve done it,” I grumble as I take off my coat. “You should never ask that question.”
Ten minutes later, we are both staring uncertainly at a recipe and a pan of oil on the stove. Everything in Pax’s kitchen is gleaming and new. He’s clearly never used it and doesn’t know how. And I’m no better.
“I’m not sure about this,” I tell him as the oil spits and sputters everywhere.
He watches it for a minute. “I think the oil is too hot,” he decides and he turns the flame down just a bit. We roll the sliced zucchini in the flour mixture and drop it into the pan and it sizzles.
We look at each other. “Looks fine,” he shrugs. “I think we did it right.”
He turns to me. “Now, where were we in the foyer?”
He reaches for me, pinning me against the granite counter. I smile.
“You realize, of course, that you look really out of place in the kitchen?”
I raise an eyebrow. He grins.
“I thought women wanted men who could cook?”
“If so, I’m probably out of luck,” I tell him as I press my lips to his. He laughs, which rumbles in his chest and he lifts me up, sitting me on the counter. I automatically wrap my legs around him.
“It’s where my legs belong, right?” I remind him. He nods.
“You’re learning.”
“Oh, I’m a good learner,” I tell him with a grin as an idea occurs to me. “Wanna see?
I trail my fingers down to the button on his jeans and flick it open with one deft movement.
“Impressive,” he says, cocking an eyebrow teasingly. “But now what are you going to do? I think you already know how to use that.”
“Maybe,” I answer. “But I haven’t mastered everything. And every good student needs a teacher.”
He stares at me as I slide off the counter and pull his pants off, then his underwear. And then I drop to my knees in front of him.
His eyes widen.
“You’re going to…” his voice trails off as I take him in my hand, sliding my fingers down his length. His penis lurches to life, instantly rock hard. I smile.
I look up at him. “I’m sure I have the mechanics down, but everyone has preferences, don’t you agree?” He nods wordlessly, his eyes frozen to mine as I grasp him firmly in my hand. “So I want you to tell me exactly how you like o**l s*x.”
He’s frozen, his hands limp on my shoulders.
“Well, you should start by repeating that question, but instead of saying o**l s*x, say, ‘Tell me exactly how to suck your dick’. No, wait. Say cock. Because that word coming from your lips will be f**king hot.”
I smile at the eager look on his face. I love how he is so big and tattooed, but I can turn him on and make him speechless with just one little word. And saying that one naughty little word is turning me on, quite frankly.
“Okay, I’ll play. Tell me, Pax. How do you want me to suck your cock?”
He stiffens, in more ways than one. He just got harder in my hand, although I didn’t know that was possible.
“Cat got your tongue?” I tease, as I lower my head and run my tongue along his shaft. “It doesn’t have mine.”
He shudders as I run my tongue around the tip, then lick down the back, then back up, like I’m licking a lollipop.
“You’re a freaking vixen,” he mutters. “You know what you’re doing.”
“I do. But tell me what you’d really like,” I prompt him, as I stroke him with my fingers again. “I want to know.”
He swallows and closes his eyes, leaning back against the counter, his hands gripping the edge. He pushes further into my mouth.
“Okay, Red. I like it when you take all of me in your mouth. I want you to deep-throat me. If you can handle it.”
He says the last part like a dare.
I want to smile, but don’t. He continues speaking, his voice husky.
“While you suck me, I want you to squeeze my balls, just a little. Tug on them. Lightly. Push your fingers against me right behind my ball sack and pull. Lightly, not too hard.”
He shudders again when I do as he says. I pull his balls toward my mouth, just slightly.
I inch my lips along his length, working the entire thing into my mouth. I feel like he is practically scraping the back of my throat, but I don’t gag. I just concentrate on keeping my teeth from scraping him as I slide him in and out.
“Fuck,” he groans, gripping the stone counter. “Fuck.”
I make sure my lips form a good vacuum and continue sucking, sliding, moving. I stroke his balls and pull at them and Pax’s breathing gets more and more ragged.
And then, with his balls cupped in my hand, I suck on them.
He tenses up completely, his knuckles turning white. “Fuck.”
I smile now as I lick at them, then suck. Then lick.
Then I plunge his dick back in my mouth, all the way. In, out, wet.
I increase my speed and he finally yanks me away by my shoulders.
“I’m going to come,” he tells me raggedly. “And I want to come inside of you.”
I yank off my clothes and he rolls me onto all fours, sliding into me from behind.
He fills me up, the friction nail-bitingly hot. He rocks me to and fro as he leans over me, pressing his lips to my ear.
“Tell me to f**k you harder,” he whispers.
“Fuck me harder,” I say obediently and my voice is strained. It’s hard to form thought, let alone words while he is doing what he’s doing.