Spice (23 page)

He didn't. His hips rocked in silent assent, and she pressed her forefinger against his anus, teasing him until he relaxed enough for her to push through.

He thrust his fingers into her hair, holding her in place as he wanted her before he surged into her mouth. She took him deep, relaxing her throat until her nose pressed against his groin. He held her there, withdrawing just as she became desperate for air.

“Nadia.”

She looked up into his face, seeing the strain in his features, the fire of lust and need for her burning in his eyes. “I'm going to fuck your mouth now. I need you to fuck yourself with your fingers. Tell me when you're close.”

She nodded, slipping her right hand between her thighs. She relaxed her throat again, a trick she'd learned during her pill-popping days. Kane cradled her face in his hands, then began to slowly and thoroughly fuck her mouth, working it just the way he worked her pussy, drawing all the way out then pushing all the way back in. His movements rocked his cock into her mouth and drove her finger over his prostate. Over and over he fucked her mouth and she timed the thrusting of her fingers with the movement of his hips, riding the hard edge that led to a hard-won orgasm. She wanted to come, needed to come, but she needed him to come too. When she felt it rising, sweeping through her and about to break free, she hummed around his cock.

“Nadia.” His pace increased, his hands cradling her head, his rhythm losing its smoothness as she chased his orgasm. “Come for me, sweetheart. I'm there, I'm there. Ah, God.”

He clenched down on her finger a second before his cock pulsed in her mouth. At the first splash of semen on her tongue, her orgasm crashed into her. She moaned around his cock, eyes sliding shut in pure ecstasy as she rode her fingers and swallowed his come.

Kane pulled free of her, breathing hard, legs shaky. She'd pushed him to the edge of his control; now it was time to return the favor. He lifted her to her feet, the robe billowing about her. Keeping his gaze on hers, he pulled the sash free, then pushed the robe from her shoulders. “Give me your wrists, sweetheart.”

She immediately offered them to him, and he made quick work of binding her wrists with the sash. Her breathing deepened, her eyes going wide and dark at the passion riding her. He helped her back on the bed, positioning her with her hands above her head and a pillow supporting the small of her back. Even though he'd just come hard in her mouth, the sight of her stretched out on his bed—hands bound, nipples clamped and tight, thighs spread, her expression one of complete surrender—sent blood rushing south, filling his cock and hardening him again.

Kneeling in front of her, he spread her folds with his hands. “So beautiful, like a lotus flower,” he said against her, breathing in the spicy scent of her arousal. “And you got it ready for me just the way I like it.”

He lifted her legs, his hands catching her behind her knees to hold her open. Then he set his tongue to her, licking from the rosette of her ass to the top of her clit. She cried out his name, the sound sweet to his ears. Kane continued the sensual onslaught, licking at her delicate oversensitive folds, teasing her clit. He circled the engorged nub with his tongue, then lightly sucked it into his mouth. Again she cried out, lifting her hips, desperate to get more of his mouth on her.

Setting her feet on his shoulders, he pushed two fingers inside her, he began to stroke her, driving her higher with lips and teeth and tongue and fingers. “I'm going to give you the pleasure you gave me, sweetheart,” he whispered against her passion-slick folds. “I'm going to get you ready then I'm going to fulfill that fantasy of yours.”

He pulled his fingers free of her drenched pussy, then found the entrance to her rear opening. She was so wet the moisture had traced a path for him, easing his way. He lapped at her pussy while pressing against her back entrance with a steady pressure, slowly pushing his index finger all the way inside her. She groaned deeply, the tight opening clamping down on him. Then she rocked her hips upward in a silent entreaty for more.

Kane expertly stoked her passion, ramping up her desire until he could push two fingers into her tight opening. Her breath came in short, loud bursts as he fucked her with tongue and fingers, her hips thrusting up against his mouth and down onto his hand.

“Kaname,” she gasped. A tremble swept through her body. “Kaname, I need you!”

Damn, he liked the sound of his name on her lips. “You have me, sweetheart.”

“I need you inside me!” she sobbed. “I want to come around you. Please.”

“You will,” he assured her. “On the third time. After coming this time on my tongue.”

Then he sucked her clit into his mouth as his fingers thrust deep. The orgasm hit her like a thunderclap. She came on a loud groan, her back bowing off the bed as she rode the intense wave of sensation.

Nadia floated back to awareness when she felt the cool slick slide of gel at her rear entrance, his fingers preparing her for his thick cock. Need swept through her, making her pant, hungry for more, hungry for anything and everything he offered. Finally he leaned over her, claiming her mouth in a toe-curling kiss that obliterated everything but her passion for him. Wrapping his hand around his erection, he fit the head against her relaxed opening. She tensed even though she knew she shouldn't.

“Look at me, sweet Nadia,” he said, his voice barely above a groan. “Watch the pleasure you give me.”

She did, and he pushed the head of his cock inside her. She knew it was just the head, but damn if it didn't feel like his fist. She gasped, then forced herself to breathe. Kane tugged on the clamp on her nipple, redirecting her focus back to him. “You feel so good, sweetheart, clenched tight around me. Better than anything I've felt before.”

He captured her lips again as he sank into her in slow degrees, keeping the sharp bite of penetration wrapped in waves of pleasure. She wrapped her legs high around his waist, wishing she could touch him, but instead keeping her bound hands where he'd positioned them above her head. Then she felt his balls against her and knew he had at last gone as far as he could.

“Are you all right?” Kane asked, his voice tight with the strain of remaining still. She could feel his entire body vibrating, sending subtle shocks of pleasure rolling through her.

“Yes.” She flexed her hips, impaling herself on his thick erection. “Very much yes!”

He rose to his knees, bracing his hands on either side of her head as he began to thrust into her, slowly withdraw, then thrust in again. “Touch yourself, sweetheart,” he ordered, a growl in his voice. “Touch yourself as you told me you would on the phone the other night.”

Nadia slid her bound hands over her breasts, the silky fabric contrasting with the bite of metal to supersensitize her nipples. She gasped at the pleasure of it, and Kane's expression tightened with approval and desire. Her hands skated down her belly to her mound. A sob tore from her at the first quick pass of her fingers over her swollen clit, but she didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

“Christ, Nadia,” Kane ground out as he moved inside her, his way easing as she completely accepted him. “You are so fucking hot. So damn beautiful. Can't get enough. Never get enough.”

His pace increased as they locked eyes with each other, each feeding off the other's desire. Wild, unfettered, he drove into her, hooking her knees on his shoulders to open her up even more. She continued stroking herself, amazed that she could feel the storm of another orgasm approaching. Over and over she leveraged herself up, lifting her hips to slam against him, just as wild as he was, just as needy as he was. Her fingers circled her clit, her nipples tight to the point of pain as she fought to hold on, to stay with him, to go with him when he went.

But when he balanced on one hand and tugged at the chain between her breasts with the other, he slammed a hammer down. She broke, mouth stretching wide in a scream of pleasure so intense, so overwhelming she couldn't draw in air. Kane shouted her name as he slammed against her one final time, spurting deep inside her rear channel, his features stretched in the agony of ecstasy. Sublime orgasmic joy swept her up and carried her away to a blissful place where nothing existed but her and Kaname and the pleasure they shared.

N
adia awakened to a view of the sky lightening beyond the shades, and realized she'd overslept. She probably would have slept longer, had it not been for a delicious aroma filling the bedroom.

She quickly handled her business in the bathroom, donned her robe, then went in search of Kane. She found him in the kitchen, standing in front of his gas cooktop, stirring an oversized stockpot. Dressed in a white T-shirt and navy lounge pants with his thick, dark hair tousled and hanging over his forehead, he looked much more relaxed than he had the day before.

“Hey,” she said, stepping up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist and rest her cheek against the middle of his back. “How long have you been up? You shouldn't have let me sleep so late.”

He gave her hands a light squeeze, then returned to stirring the pot. “I haven't been up long, and it's not too much past your normal weekend wake-up time. You obviously needed the rest, especially when you consider how I tired you out yesterday.”

Yesterday had been one of the best days of her life. Their shopping trip had included a drive along the coast with a stopover in San Francisco, though Nadia had demurred on stopping by her parents' place. She was not going to try to spend time with her fathers while wearing nipple clamps and no underwear. They'd done the tourist thing instead, taken loads of pictures on their phones, raided a tea shop, ate lunch on the wharf, then returned home to have foreplay on the kitchen island and sex on the private balcony as they watched the sun drop into the bay.

“That's the best way to get tired, so don't you get apologetic about that.” She reached up to kiss the back of his neck. “What's in the pot, doc?”

He turned in her embrace, his eyes clear and warm behind his glasses. “I've started the broth for the ramen.”

“Ooh, yum!” He side-stepped so she could wave her hand over the steaming pot, cupping the aroma to her nose. “Chicken broth?”

“Yeah. It's still in the early stages though, still have to add some seasoning. Want some coffee or tea?”

“The strongest tea you've got,” she answered, then grinned when he turned on the gas beneath the kettle already in place. “You know me so well.”

“I'm learning,” he clarified, a satisfied grin curving his most-kissable lips. “You have more layers than a lotus flower.”

Heat flared in her cheeks. “You described me as a lotus flower before. Down there.”

He did laugh outright then. “Why are you being shy and demure now, when you spent most of yesterday in a kimono and nipple clamps?”

She felt the heat spread to the tips of her ears. “It seems kinda disrespectful, talking dirty in front of your mom's ramen recipe.”

He kissed her on the nose. “You're cute when you're embarrassed. I promise, following my mother's ramen recipe does not create some psychic connection between their house and mine. You can be all outwardly sweet as you want. I like knowing you save your spicy side for me. I like you when you're sweet, like Friday night, and I like you when you spice it up, like you did yesterday.” He held her gaze. “I just like you, Nadia Spiceland.”

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, but it was a pleasant sensation. “I like you too, Kaname Sullivan.”

“Good to know, since I'm slaving over a hot stove for you. Would you like to know more about ramen, or would you prefer I save the lecture and just tell you when it's ready?”

“I want to know everything you're willing to tell me. I want to learn.”

He grinned. “You realize you just gave this professor permission to drone on for hours about the history of ramen?”

“If you start to drone, I'll just have to dig into my bag of spicy tricks for a proper distraction. What can I do to help you with the soup?”

He pointed to an assortment of vegetables on the kitchen island. “If you could slice those leeks and the scallions, that will be great.”

After washing her hands, she moved the cutting board closer to her end of the island, chose a knife and began slicing the leeks into inch-wide pieces. Kane strained the stockpot then reset it with fresh cold water, the chicken bones and assorted parts, and a large white onion cut in half. She watched as he added her leeks, cloves of garlic, and some mushrooms to the pot. “How do you want the scallions?”

“We'll use slices of the green parts to top our soup later,” he said, adding sliced ginger before stirring his concoction together. “We need the white to go into the soup now.”

“Have I mentioned how sexy it is to see a man slaving over a hot stove?” she asked, as she made quick work of the scallions.

“You have, and I took note of it, which is why you're getting ramen today. It's part of my full-court press to win your affections.”

“You already have my affections.” She handed him the white scallions.

He smiled at her, but it wasn't his usual confident grin. Did he really doubt that she cared for him, or was he talking about something more, something she wasn't sure she could fairly offer him?

She decided not to think about it. Today was their last day together before they returned to the craziness of their work schedules and she didn't want to be at odds with him on their day of relaxation. “I'm ready for my ramen lesson, Professor.”

“Remember that you asked for it,” he said with a grin. “Ramen is a balance of all the ingredients in subtle but perfect harmony. There can be as many different types of noodles are there are Italian pasta shapes because each ramen restaurant likes their own. While the noodle is an integral part, it's nothing without the broth.”

“Have I mentioned how wonderful it smells?”

“That you did. Some people will do a seafood-based broth, some areas are known for their pork-based soup. My mother has always done the Tokyo-style ramen, which uses chicken broth, soy sauce flavoring, and a thin wavy noodle.” He handed her the package of fresh noodles they had picked up during their trip the day before.

She examined the package. The noodles were made out of flour, water, salt, and something called
kansui
. “What's
kansui
?”

“It's an alkaline water that gives the noodles their yellow color. Because we're doing the chicken broth, we're using that kind of noodle. Some of the other styles will use a thicker noodle.”

“Thin broth, thin noodle?”

“Exactly. Mom told me to start with the traditional Tokyo style before introducing you to some variations because she didn't want me to throw too much at you. I told her that you could handle it.”

“You told her mother about me?” she asked, her voice coming out as a squeak. Pleasure and panic danced in her chest. “When? What did you say? What did she say?”

“I mentioned you to my mother and father. I told them I'd been seeing a beautiful American girl who owns a café, makes the most delicious pastries, and knows the importance of a good cup of tea.”

“You did?” she asked, aware she grinned like a loon but not caring. Sure, Kane had accidentally met her parents way early in their relationship, but she hadn't expected that he'd mentioned her to his parents yet, even though she felt more emotionally close to him than she would have thought possible.

“I did. I also sent them a photo of you—one of the ones we took together when we were in San Francisco yesterday,” he added, as if he'd seen her about to panic at the thought of his parents seeing her intimate poses. “They agree with me that you're a gorgeous woman.”

It wasn't the heat of the tea that made her feel flushed. He complimented her so easily they almost seemed like practiced lines. She could hear the sincerity in his voice though, see it in his eyes. He believed the words he used to describe her, leaving her no choice but to believe them herself. “Did you tell your parents about my . . . issues?”

He ran his thumb across her lower lip, making her aware that she'd pulled it between her teeth. “You mean, did I tell them that you spent some time in rehab?”

When she nodded, his expression turned quizzical. “Would you want me to?”

“Yes. No. I don't know.” She shifted her weight, nervous about Kane's parents knowing about her. “I don't want them to be worried about the woman you're spending time with.”

“We're dating, not spending time,” he said, his tone a gentle reprimand. “As for my mother, she worries more when I'm not dating, no matter how many times I tell her I'm being as choosy as she wants me to be. My dad, on the other hand, is more laid back with his pressure. He's ready to be a granddad though. The fact that I told them I'm seeing someone and provided them with proof was a cause for celebration up in Seattle. I'm sure my dad will be calling tomorrow with a list of baby names, especially since I'm making Mom's ramen for you.”

He grinned at her, but she wasn't so sure he was joking. Kane was a successful man deep in his thirties. His parents probably had certain expectations of their only child. Expectations she didn't think she could meet. “Do you think they'll like me?”

“How could they not?”

She frowned up at him. “Two words: drug addict.”

He frowned back. “Three words: recovering drug addict. You're a beautiful woman, Nadia Spiceland, and your inside matches your outside. You make me happy. My parents can tell that already, and one look at you, they'll understand why.”

She worried at her lip again, torn between wanting his parents' approval and calling herself crazy for even considering needing that approval. What if they couldn't get over her past? What if they didn't think she was good enough for their only child?

What the hell was she doing, thinking about this already?

“Hey.” He ran his palms down her arms from her shoulders to her hands. “We're having a stress-free Sunday, remember? We're not thinking about anything that will get us down. We're going to relax, have some wall-shaking sex, relax some more, have the most amazing ramen you will ever have in your life, relax some more, have more sex, then go to bed wrapped around each other. All right?”

She smiled; she couldn't help it. “As my professor desires.”

The kettle began to sing. He turned it off after adding the scallions to the broth, then stood back so Nadia could steep her tea as she wanted. “The broth is going to take the better part of eight hours,” he said as she added loose-leaf tea to the tea strainer then poured hot water over it. “Would you like some breakfast? I have cereal, oatmeal, and the makings for omelets.”

“Uhm, I don't know—whatever you want to have. I usually don't eat breakfast.”

“Nadia. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“I know that, Dad, which is why I'm in the café at four a.m. making it for everybody else.”

“You can't save yourself for ramen.” He crossed the fridge, brought out eggs, cheese, and a container of cut fruit. “I'll make eggs and toast. You take your tea to the living room. Find something on television for us to watch. I like documentaries, old movies, anything but reality show crap.”

He froze. “Well hell, I just served myself my own foot for an appetizer.”

She burst into laughter as she took a seat at the dining room table. “Oh, man, the look on your face is priceless! Don't worry, babe. I'm not offended. It
is
crap, even my own show. Both of them.”

He cleared his throat, then returned to his breakfast preparations. His discomfort was cute, but she wouldn't tell him that, not when he offered to make her breakfast. “You enjoyed them while you were shooting them, didn't you?”

She busied herself with straining her tea into a mug. She'd promised herself that there would be nothing else between them, and that included her past. She owed it to Kaname to answer any questions he wanted to know. “It's hard to answer that. The competition one was very stressful—you had to deal with the producers, the other contestants, the judges. There was always someone after you, and you had still had to be creative and hope you connected with the audience. I was lucky.”

“And talented, and engaging and camera-friendly.”

“All of that too.” She cradled her mug between her palms. “And driven and blind and stressed and naive and trusting. In a word:
stupid
.”

God, she had been. That was the worst part, that she thought she'd known it all, that she'd had everything under control once she won and got her own show. She should have known that it simply meant she was at her highest point and everything after that was a slow glide to her inevitable fall.

“Nadia?”

She looked up as Kane placed a plate of cheesy scrambled eggs, fresh-cut fruit, and wheat toast in front of her. He took the spot next to her with a matching plate. “Sorry, I must have zoned out. This looks terrific!”

“I would have asked you how you preferred your eggs, but since you only know them as an ingredient in your pastries, I figured I'd take a chance and present you with the crowd-favorite: scrambled.”