smugly.
“Really? Do you marinate everything in beer first?”
“No, just the meat and vegetables, and the occasional potato. Soaking rice in beer is tricky, makes it too starchy.”
She loved his humor. He was the first man who had used idle banter with her in a long time, and she had forgotten how much fun it was to just tease and laugh and have a good time while doing it. She had spent far too many years weighing ever single word, and she wondered what pleasure she got out of that exactly.
That was a tough question to answer and she did not want to answer it so she concentrated on what she was doing instead.
Blake was watching her with a grin on his face. The light from the refrigerator outlined her body, played along the strip of wet curls at the center of her thighs and shone on the pink puckers of her nipples. Her auburn hair fell forward, obscuring part of her face and he wanted to pick her up and make love to her right there on the kitchen counter.
He was moving toward her when she looked up and read the intent on his face. She still held a slim package of fruit in one hand when he seized her around the waist and tossed her up on the counter, announcing, “I am starving.”
“I have fruit,” Jenna waved that package at him but he shook his dark head. “I want something a little more savory.”
“Oh,” she lost her breath as he parted her thighs. Her pussy throbbed and sent wetness sliding along the counter below her. “I see.”
His tongue met her clit, twined around it in a sensual slow circle hat caused her to gasp and shudder. The lovemaking they had already shared had been immediate, fueled by an explosive and unstoppable need, but now he was taking his time. His tongue left her slit and traveled up to her nipples. He teased them into even more rigid pints, she whimpered and dropped the fruit to the floor, her fingers tangling into his hair as she stared down, entranced by the sight of his dark head at her pale breasts.
His head moved lower once more, his tongue streaking across her belly, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh right below her navel and Jenna writhed, attempting to raise her hips. His tongue went back to her clit, lashing across it and circling it before his mouth subsumed it. A sob of ecstasy broke from her as he slid two fingers within her dripping walls and began to thrust in and out of her.
Jenna had never known anyone who could play her body so well. Blake used her like a finely tuned instrument, stroking and licking, sucking and biting and when she came again it was a brief but intense rush of fluids that burst from her throbbing center.
Blake lifted his head, her juices glistened on his chin and mouth and he was smiling. “That was good,” he announced, “Now get down from there and make me a sandwich.”
She could not resist shooting back at him, “If I can still walk you do not deserve a sandwich.”
Blake roared laughter. She was feisty and strong, and he loved that about her, she was the kind of girl he could take to a cocktail party or a neighborhood bar and she would be at home in either one. His mother had told him one day that the best women could eat hot dogs in bad times and steak in good times and never let you know they knew there was a difference, and Jenna was certainly a woman who would have been able to do that. She was a survivor, and he admired her.
Jenna was still grinning smugly when a huge ball of fur appeared and hissed at her. She yanked her legs back and screamed. “Is that a …what is that?”
“This is Freddy, my cat.”
Blake’s cat was huge, and ugly. It was an old gray tom with a missing ear and slightly lopsided nose. The thing must have weighed twenty pounds and as she watched Blake feed it a hunk of Brie she could see why. “That cannot be good for him.”
“Refusing Freddy food is not good for anyone. He got his claws removed but he still has all his teeth.”
As if to prove that point Freddy opened his huge jaw and showed
“Really? Do you marinate everything in beer first?”
“No, just the meat and vegetables, and the occasional potato. Soaking rice in beer is tricky, makes it too starchy.”
She loved his humor. He was the first man who had used idle banter with her in a long time, and she had forgotten how much fun it was to just tease and laugh and have a good time while doing it. She had spent far too many years weighing ever single word, and she wondered what pleasure she got out of that exactly.
That was a tough question to answer and she did not want to answer it so she concentrated on what she was doing instead.
Blake was watching her with a grin on his face. The light from the refrigerator outlined her body, played along the strip of wet curls at the center of her thighs and shone on the pink puckers of her nipples. Her auburn hair fell forward, obscuring part of her face and he wanted to pick her up and make love to her right there on the kitchen counter.
He was moving toward her when she looked up and read the intent on his face. She still held a slim package of fruit in one hand when he seized her around the waist and tossed her up on the counter, announcing, “I am starving.”
“I have fruit,” Jenna waved that package at him but he shook his dark head. “I want something a little more savory.”
“Oh,” she lost her breath as he parted her thighs. Her pussy throbbed and sent wetness sliding along the counter below her. “I see.”
His tongue met her clit, twined around it in a sensual slow circle hat caused her to gasp and shudder. The lovemaking they had already shared had been immediate, fueled by an explosive and unstoppable need, but now he was taking his time. His tongue left her slit and traveled up to her nipples. He teased them into even more rigid pints, she whimpered and dropped the fruit to the floor, her fingers tangling into his hair as she stared down, entranced by the sight of his dark head at her pale breasts.
His head moved lower once more, his tongue streaking across her belly, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh right below her navel and Jenna writhed, attempting to raise her hips. His tongue went back to her clit, lashing across it and circling it before his mouth subsumed it. A sob of ecstasy broke from her as he slid two fingers within her dripping walls and began to thrust in and out of her.
Jenna had never known anyone who could play her body so well. Blake used her like a finely tuned instrument, stroking and licking, sucking and biting and when she came again it was a brief but intense rush of fluids that burst from her throbbing center.
Blake lifted his head, her juices glistened on his chin and mouth and he was smiling. “That was good,” he announced, “Now get down from there and make me a sandwich.”
She could not resist shooting back at him, “If I can still walk you do not deserve a sandwich.”
Blake roared laughter. She was feisty and strong, and he loved that about her, she was the kind of girl he could take to a cocktail party or a neighborhood bar and she would be at home in either one. His mother had told him one day that the best women could eat hot dogs in bad times and steak in good times and never let you know they knew there was a difference, and Jenna was certainly a woman who would have been able to do that. She was a survivor, and he admired her.
Jenna was still grinning smugly when a huge ball of fur appeared and hissed at her. She yanked her legs back and screamed. “Is that a …what is that?”
“This is Freddy, my cat.”
Blake’s cat was huge, and ugly. It was an old gray tom with a missing ear and slightly lopsided nose. The thing must have weighed twenty pounds and as she watched Blake feed it a hunk of Brie she could see why. “That cannot be good for him.”
“Refusing Freddy food is not good for anyone. He got his claws removed but he still has all his teeth.”
As if to prove that point Freddy opened his huge jaw and showed
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