“That’s so fucking good, but not perfect yet.”
He takes the spoon to the last pint he pulled out and starts again. When he has a spoonful, he licks it and shakes his head.
“Fucking cinnamon.”
I really don’t know what his deal is with cinnamon tonightand I still don’t care. He takes that spoonful and drops the ball of what I assume is cinnamon right under my collarbone. It slowly works it’s way down my exposed chest and melts into the others.
He kisses his way down my neck and over my breasts. I’m so ready for him and I just want all of him.
“Sutton. I need more. Please.” I breathe out, but he just keeps teasing me—licking, kissing, and nipping down my stomach.
Each tauntingly slow kiss makes me want more until his lips reach the combined pool of all three melting flavors that’s now halfway down my stomach.
He licks that melted dessert and I swear he moans.
“That’s perfection.” His eyes flit up to mine. “You want to know how your apology tastes?”
“If it means you’ll stop teasing me, yes. Please.”
He grins and licks at the melted gelato until there is none left on my stomach. Then he brings his lips to mine and I get all of the flavors.
Coffee. Cinnamon. Honey. Vanilla.
All of them working together and it’s delicious. It reminds me that he is a master at what he does.
I lick the last melted drop off my lips. “Were you planning on making me into your own personal ice cream sundae tonight?”
He lets out a low laugh. “Don’t tempt me.”
I give him a confused look, only half interested in this conversation because I want his attention solely on me. “Why do you have all of these flavors? Some of those aren’t even on the menu.”
He leans down and kisses my neck again. I feel his breath under my ear. “Because they’re you. Honey, coffee, cinnamon. That’s your scent, that’s what your lips tasted like. It’s haunted me for years but I never figured outthe damn cinnamon from your coffee. I’ve tried to sort that out the only way I know how—by making food.”
He places his hands on either side of me, propping himself up while he looms over me. I look up at him and I do not know what to do with the revelation that he’s been that fixated on me for so long.
He doesn’t say anything and instead drops his head back to my collarbone, kissing his way down my body. I reach out and grab the bulge in his jeans, so ready for him to give me what I want.
“Stop teasing me and do something already. You had your dessert.”
“No, I haven’t.” He grins and shakes his head. “And there’s no way I’m doing that. It’s been a while and if my cock even grazes your sweet pussy, I won’t last.”
His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties and he slowly slips them down my legs and over my boots. Instead of setting them aside, he sticks them in his back pocket. “Are you saving those for later?”
“Yeah. I’m saving them in case you ghost me again, but I think we know that’s not happening.” I’m so wet that I don’t care. They’re probably ruined anyways.
His eyes drop to the apex of my thighs and his tongue darts out. He hungrily licks his lips. “Fuck me,” he rasps.
He swipes a finger over my soaking wet pussy, just barely parting my lips. His eyes meet mine when he takes that finger and sucks it clean. With the dim red glow of the neon light behind him, he looks sinfully delicious.
“As good as my dessert was, nothing compares to this.” He licks his finger again and lets out a hungry groan. “This is the only flavor I haven’t been able to have for two years and it was the only one I wanted. This is the one I’ve obsessed over. I haven’t tasted anyone else because I needed this.”
“You mean you haven’t?—”
“That’s why I can’t fuck you right now,” he cuts me off. “If I’m going to fuck you again, I want to make sure I’m going to last.”
That timeline sinks in and I feel my core get even wetter. “You haven’t been with anyone since…”
He shakes his head. “My cock hasn’t been inside a pussy in two years. So I think I can wait a little bit longer. Now please, let me fucking have my meal.”