“Chloe?” he called out. The living room was dark, but around the corner came a soft glowing light from the dining room.
“In here,” she called. Gage hadn’t been in her home in four months, but everything looked the same. Clean, colorful, and well lived in. He made his way to the dining room—
And froze. Every damn cell in his body shot to high alert at the sight of what lay before him.
“Ready for your quick meal, city boy?” she asked.
Jee-sus Christ.
He blew out a breath and looked her over. She was completely naked, lying on her long dining room table, with perfectly placed bits of fruit and pastries covering her most delicious parts.
He stared. This was fucking incredible, and his cock agreed. He didn’t want a quick meal. He wanted to devour her.
Gage stepped toward her, zeroing in on the sweets and strawberries covering her nipples. He’d never wanted to lick anything as bad as he did right then. She’d even somehow dipped the tips of her perfect breasts in sugar.
“Hope you’re still hungry,” she purred.
Oh hell yeah he was hungry. She was perfect. Alabaster skin with the soft light making her glow like fresh cream. Her green eyes were fixed on him, and her breaths increased with every step he took toward her.
Wait. This… This was what she wanted. This was exactly what she wanted.
“Well played, sweetheart,” he growled. She’d lured him in and played him. To her credit, it was fucking brilliant—she was taking Candy Land to the next level. But still. A game was a game, and she had messed with the rules.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked innocently. “It’s a quick meal. Technically, this counts.”
He shook his head. Fine. If this was her hand, he’d throw down his cards and play, too.
“Sorry, sugar tits.” He leaned over and snagged one slice of strawberry from her breast with his teeth, purposefully biting her nipple a little in the process. She gasped, and he ran his fingers down her stomach to the peach slices covering her mound. “I wanted a dinner date for sex. This is—”
“Technically a dinner date,” she growled.
“No.” He bent over again to snag a peach slice. He sucked it into his mouth and lingered between her folds to get the hint of her taste. Damn, he missed this. Missed her. “This is a quick meal. You said so yourself.”
He grabbed another slice of peach and circled it around her clit, then dipped it between her folds like an apple into caramel. She moaned and arched her back slightly.
“I really do love finger foods.” He popped the slice into his mouth—her sweetness on the fruit was his new favorite dessert.
“I’m glad,” she whispered. “Have as much as you want.”
Oh, he would. He’d just have to find a way to refrain from taking every last inch of her to the brink and back.
“Appetizers aren’t a full meal though.” He slid his finger inside her to hammer home his point. “Our deal was sex for a romantic dinner date.” He slowly withdrew. “So this would be finger foods for…” He thrust back inside, and she moaned.
With two slices of peach gone and her pretty core exposed for him, he wanted to lean in and taste her again, but this was an even exchange. Finger foods for finger play. So he withdrew, then pumped back inside her again. He hooked his fingers, hitting the spot inside that drove her wild, and her back arched farther.
“Since it’s a quick meal, you should meet me halfway,” she pleaded.
He raised a brow. “You think so?”
She nodded spastically. Poor woman was trembling. And he was fighting the need to give her exactly what she wanted. Maybe he could compromise.
He dipped his head again, snagged another peach, then chewed it until juice ran along his mouth. He spread her legs even wider and sucked hard on her clit—her sweetness, mixed with the bite of fruit, brought a whole new meaning to peaches and cream.
She grabbed the edges of the table. “Oh yes!”
Fuck! He forced himself to back away. Fingers only.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Playing fair.” He slowly worked his fingers in and out. “You’re the one who started this with finger foods.”
He thrust deep again, and she groaned. He might not be able to take her with his cock, or his mouth, but he’d take her with his hand.
She arched, and some strawberries fell away from her breasts, leaving sugar-coated ruby tipped nipples straining for the ceiling. She was his personal dessert, and he wanted to eat every inch. But he couldn’t. Not without breaking his own rules.
“Please take me, Gage,” she pleaded softly.
Truth was, he had a hard time denying her—he wanted nothing more than to give her exactly what she wanted. But he had to keep his focus. He was playing the long game.
“I’ll give you what you need.” He pressed his thumb against her sensitive bundle of nerves. “If you give me what I want.”
Her head lolled back and forth on the table. She was either shaking her head or delirious with pleasure. He hoped the latter.
“Come on, sweetheart. We both know you want to…” He plucked another peach slice with his mouth, careful not to lick her this time. The effort damn near killed him.