“Yes, Chef.” I don’t dare move until I’m commanded to do so. I want to give him no reason to be angry with me. Knowing the punishment, though, I would gladly accept it if not for the reprimand.
“Come here. Show me.” He takes a step back from the fire.
I can’t help but smile at this chance to show him what I’ve got. I use all the skills I have, and when I finish, my five best pieces are skillfully plated and placed in front of him.
He eyes the dish, then lifts it to take a closer look. He smells it, then looks into my eyes. Chills go down my spine. His eyes are dark again, and they move down my body. But the moment passes when he sets the plate down.
He takes a fork from his breast pocket, spears a piece, and places it in his mouth. I stare at him and hold my breath, waiting for his judgment.
He nods. “It seems I made the right choice when giving you another chance. Nicely done.” He spears another piece. “You know”—he brings the fork up to eye level—“they say that oysters are an aphrodisiac. But I prefer scallops for that purpose.”
I swallow hard. “Why?”
“The taste is closer.” His eyes are dark on me again, and my butterflies are back. “Oysters are too like the sea, too salty. I want to be able to imagine I’m eating the real thing.”
I stop breathing again as he pops the scallop into his mouth. His eyes don’t waver from mine, but I can’t hold his gaze. It’s too intense and the heat on my cheeks is spreading down to my neck.
He places the fork on the plate and takes a step toward me. “Shall we compare?” he says, and I bring my head back up.
“You’re going to show me how you cook scallops?” I say this like an excited child, beaming a smile at him. I regret it instantly.
He laughs and steps toward me again, then he shakes his head. “I want to compare tastes.” Another step closer. “Now, remove your trousers and panties.”
I bite my lip to keep my jaw from dropping. There’s no point in refusing; if I do, I’m out. And I don’t want to be out yet. His tongue running across his lower lip helps me shed the clothes quickly.
“Good girl. Now, sit on the counter.”
I shiver instantly when the stainless steel contacts my bare skin. But maybe the goosebumps aren’t from the cold.
He closes the gap between us, grabbing my knees, spreading my legs, and stepping between them. His erection is visible through his pants, and I realize these countertops are at exactly the height of his dick. I wonder if it’s a coincidence.
“Feed me, Little Chef,” he says, bringing my attention to his face.
I nod and with shaking hands, I reach across to grab his fork and place a scallop inside his waiting mouth.
He chews slowly and brings his eyes down to my pussy. He stares at me until he swallows. Then he pulls my ass to the edge of the counter, splits my legs open until they reach the edge of the counter, and gets on his knees.
I’m more exposed than I’ve ever been, and the thrill of that alone causes me to tremble.
“I’m going to taste you now, Little Chef.” His breath hits my core and makes it tingle. “Let’s see how you compare.”
I look down as he’s speaking and see that he’s talking to my pussy, not me.
He dives in.
I throw my head back as he runs his tongue down my center, no doubt feeling how soaked I am for him, before parting my folds with a quick flash.
My sensitive lips sing for him as he runs his mouth up and down them. When his mouth meets my clit, my sharp intake of breath encourages him to lick and suck it until it’s swollen and about to burst. Then he stops.
And I panic. “Don’t stop!” I snap my head up and pant, trying to catch the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
He chuckles and ignores my demand. “Do you want my hands as well, Little Chef?” Now he’s looking at me, so I nod frantically and beg with my eyes. “Say it out loud or I will do nothing,” he threatens.
“Please, Chef. Please!”
He stops holding my legs open and grabs them behind the knees. He lifts my legs and brings them shoulder-width apart, then lowers them until one foot is on each shoulder. He grabs my inner thighs and pushes down, lowering my knees so I’m doing a butterfly stretch in front of him.
I thought I was exposed in the last position, but this is something else.
A finger presses inside me. He pumps it at a steady pace while flicking my clit with his tongue. He pushes in another and curls them forward so that the pressure on my front wall reaches a whole new level.
I’m close again.
A third finger joins the others in hitting that good spot on the inside. His tongue flicks stimulate that good spot on the outside. And the two combined engulf my body in flames as my pleasure explodes.
He keeps going until it’s fizzled out, then he licks me clean.
My legs are jelly as they drop from his shoulders, nearly pulling me off the counter.
He stands. “I stand corrected.” He licks his fingers. “You taste nothing of scallops, Little Chef. You taste like a dream.”
