Cockney:A Stepbrother Romance(25)

     



 



He growls into my mouth in this primal way that has me shivering in his  arms as he shoves me back onto one of the kitchen prep tables. He pulls  one of my legs up to his waist, and I wrap it around him as he presses  against me, his hands sliding over my ass as his tongue explores mine.



I gasp as he breaks the kiss and spins me around, and then I'm moaning  as he bends me over the counter and pushed my skirt up. "Oliver-"



"See?" He growls into my ear as he bends over me, his fingers sliding  under my panties and through my wetness, teasing across my clit. His  voice lowers as he presses his lips right against my ear, "I knew I'd  have you begging for it."



I bite back the whimper at my lips as he slides a finger deep inside of  my pussy. "You wish," I manage to croak out, my brow furrowing as his  finger begins to slowly stroke in and out of me.



I'm on fire for him; on fire for this dominant, coarse man and wanting  him to take me every which way he wants to. Deep down, I'm dying to feel  him sink that big cock to the hilt inside of me and fuck me like he  owns me. I moan at the thought, pushing back against his fingers as I  close my eyes and bite my lip.



I might be soaking wet, and desperate to come, and practically melting  under his touch, but I am not going to beg him. I'm not going to stroke  that damned ego of his any more than the rest of his world does.



He chuckles as if reading my thoughts, his magical fingers slowly  drawing lazy circles around my clit and making my body melt for him. He  presses against my bare thigh, and I try not to moan at the feel of his  thick bulge pressing against me.



"Oh please, sweetheart; let's not pretend you don't want every inch of  this cock inside of you. Let's not pretend you don't want me to make you  come harder than you've ever come before."



Between his words and those fingers of his, I feel like I might go insane if I don't come soon.



"I'm going to fuck you, Chloe Caulfield," he says darkly into my ear;  "It's really just a matter of whenever you say the words, luv," he  growls into my ear.



I bite my lip, swallowing the moan threatening to tumble out; refusing to give in.



"See," he growls deeply into my ear, "you think you're going to hold out here, but I haven't even begun, sweetheart."



I whimper as I feel his fingers leave me, but then gasp as I feel his breath, hot on the backs of my thighs.



"Oliver!" I gasp out as I feel his lips slide up the back of my thighs,  teasing the skin there. I can feel his tongue slide across my thighs,  delving deep between, and I melt against the countertop, all but  whimpering for him to plunge his tongue into my pussy. He exhales hotly  against me, his breath teasing and tickling against my pussy, and this  time I do moan out loud, arching my back and pushing back - desperate to  feel his mouth on me.



He stands, abruptly. I whimper again until I feel his fingers slide back  to my heat, sliding through my folds back to my clit as he leans over  me again, "Just beg me nicely, sweetheart," he whispers into my ear,  chuckling. The ass.



"All you've gotta do is give in." His finger lazily circles my clit, and  I'm biting my lip and clawing at the countertop, desperate for release.



I gasp as I hear the jangle of his belt and the sound of his zipper  being drawn down, and then I moan loudly at the feel of his cock; hard,  hot, and thick against my ass. His lips brush my ear, "You want this,  don't you?"



And I nod.



At that point, I can't even help it; can't even stop myself from doing  it if I tried. Because at that moment, he's got me so wound up that I'm  almost ready to beg him for it.



"‘Yes, chef'; now is that really all that hard to say?"



Almost ready to beg him.



I take a gasping breath before I shake my head, "Not - oh God - not gonna happen."



I am clawing at the edge of coming; teetering on the edge of tumbling  off that cliff and shattering in climax, when he opens his mouth again,  "Well, that's too bad."



And then like a switch being thrown, his fingers leave me, and he steps away as I hear the sound of his zipper again.



Are you fucking kidding me?



I whirl around to him, my eyes wild and my mouth hanging open to see him grinning at me as he finishes buckling his belt.



"Are … are you-" I'm clawing for words, my mind still foggy and barely  coherent from coming as close as humanly possible to an orgasm without  actually coming. I blink at him. "Are you serious?"



I stare at him in shock as he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks  them, smirking at me the whole time as he arches his eyebrows. "I mean,  you've already said them, too." He shakes his head and sighs  dramatically.



"That was different, and you fucking know it."



Oliver glances at his watch, "Oy, jeez, look at the time, I've got to  run!" He winks as he quickly darts forward and kisses my cheek. His lips  drift back to my ear, lingering there for a moment.



"All you've gotta do is say it, sweetheart," he growls into my ear,  almost pushing me back over the edge right there with his words.



And then he's whirling around and walking out of the kitchen, leaving me  panting, disheveled, and more sexually pent up than I've ever been in  my entire life.



I somehow get the impression that I'm the first girl in history that can say that after Oliver Beckett walks away from her.





I groan and drop my forehead against the kitchen door of Jolie.



Right, Monday; we're closed on Monday.



Of course we're closed, which is why I spent the morning at home.



At home being brought to within an inch of orgasm by my cocky, arrogant, swaggering stepbrother.



I blush bright pink at the memory of him leaving me like that in the  kitchen; the memory of me opening and closing my mouth as if still  searching for words as the front door to the townhouse closed behind me.  And then of course, there's the memory of what came after. The memory  of me barely closing the door to my room behind me before I was face  down in my bed, my fingers pushing my panties to the side and gasping at  the release they brought.



I decide to pretend I don't remember that it was Oliver's face I  pictured as I came screaming into my pillow. I pretend it wasn't his  tongue I was imaging dancing across my clit, or his thick cock that I  pictured fucking me from behind as I brought myself crashing over the  edge with my fingers.



And of course, now I'm so scattered-brained by the whole damn morning that I show at work to do work on the one day it's closed.



Lovely.



I bump my head against the door one more time, swearing under my breath,  when the voice behind me catches me off guard, "Be a shame to bruise a  pretty head like yours there, gorgeous."



I whirl to see an older, extremely handsome man grinning at me.



"By the way, the entrance is around the front, luv."



He's sharply dressed - well-fit designer jeans and clearly tailored  sports coat over a white linen shirt open at the collar. His face exudes  a sort of cockiness not altogether different than Oliver's, though this  man's is more deeply lined and a bit more world-weary.



"Oh, I- uh, I work here, actually."



He shoots me a white, winning smile, "Waitress?"



"Kitchen, actually."



He arches his eyebrows and nods, as if impressed, "Ahh, one of Ollie's  crew then?" He chuckles as he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his  pocket and sticks one in his mouth. "And how is the young Emperor Nero  these days?"



I snort, "So you know Oliver?"



"Is it a cliché to say I taught ‘im everything he knows?"



He must see the look of surprise on my face because he steps towards me with his hand out, "Danny Cole, at your service, luv."



My jaw drops; the Danny Cole?



He frowns and rolls his eyes at me, as if reading the look on my face.



"Oh, c'mon sweetheart, I'm just a cook like you. I'm not Jesus fucking  Christ, you know." I grin then, and he seems to brighten as that grin  flashes again, "And you? Or should I just keep calling you ‘gorgeous'?"



I blush, shaking my head. "Sorry, Chloe. It's a pleasure to meet you, chef."



He rolls his eyes again, "Please, we're not in my kitchen out here,  darling; Danny will do." He winks at me. "And the pleasure is all mine,  my dear." He shoots me a smoldering look that has me blushing a bit more  than I'd have expected.



"So what's got you here this early, darling?"



I smile and shrug, "I thought I'd try and get in before my shift and work on some recipes."



"Well you're a keeper, huh?" He winks at me, "Hard worker and a lovely  smile to boot?" Danny whistles and grins at me again, "You're a rare one  indeed, gorgeous."



I'm blushing again at the flirtations from this quite honestly extremely  handsome man. Sure, he's being a bit forward and utterly shameless  about it, but it's charming. He might be full of lines, but it's a nice  sort of cultured attention, instead of Oliver's "spread your legs" type  of attention.