Page 164 of With a Cherry On Top

She makes a good point.

“You know, I’m getting tired of you saying no to me.” Her lips graze my jaw as her hands fumble with my belt. “I think it’s timeyoubeg...andIsay no.”

My belt comes off and my breath hitches as she brushes against me, her touch devastating every ounce of willpower left in me.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“Shh,” she purrs against the shell of my ear. “Just let go.”

She unbuttons my jeans, and I should stop her, I really should. But her touch, her scent, the heat rolling off her body—it’s too much. I’m fucking exhausted of trying and failing to resist her.

The moment her fingers slip beneath my waistband, my restraint snaps.

With a low growl, I spin us around and guide her back until she’s pressed against the counter. She gasps, but it melts into a delighted laugh as I pull her up and settle her on the cold stainless steel.

“You win,” I murmur against her lips.

She grins, fingers tangling in my hair. “Of course I do.” She runs her fingers from my balls to my cock. “Now beg me, Chef.”

Beg her. I don’t even know where to start. Beg her to make me come again? Beg her to let me feast on her one more time? Beg her to break her last rule for me?

“Beg me, Aaron,” she insists, stroking me fast, then stopping before I can truly enjoy it.

“Please . . .” I whisper, watching her.

Please what?

I look down at her, at the flickering glow catching in the copper and crimson of her hair and setting it ablaze. The freckles dusting her nose and cheeks look like stars scattered across a night sky.

She’s so beautiful I feel like I’m falling and I’ll never hit the ground, like she’s the one thing I want to chase for the rest of my life.

My heart stammers. Maybe it can’t take this much beauty all at once. But as I look at her plump, delicious lips, I know exactly what I want to beg her for. “Please...let me kiss you again.”

She blinks, and there’s a moment—the briefest instant—where she doesn’t look flirty, or irreverent, or turned on. Whereshe looks small, and fragile. And I want to tell her I’ll take care of her, make her promises I intend to keep.

But her vulnerability flicks away as quickly as it showed up. Instead, her grip on my hair tightens, and she pulls me closer, lips inches away. “Fuck kissing.” She uses her other hand to rub the head of my cock against her panties. Her wet—drenched—panties. “Ask me what you really want.”

Shivers run up my spine and down my arms, making my body shake. I need to feel her around me. Need to sink inside her. Needher.

“Let me fuck you.”

She smiles wickedly. “No.”

“Please.” My voice stutters when she keeps dragging my cock up and down her slit. “Please, Charlotte. I need you.”

She giggles, though it comes out breathy. “No.”

Oh fuck, I’m going to lose my mind.

She pulls her panties to one side, and the moment she presses my cock against her wet folds, I drop my head against her chest, biting down on her dress to keep myself from making noise.

She feels like heaven. No, fuck that—she feels likesin.Wet and hot, even just against the outside of her. My hips buck forward instinctively, my cock sliding through her slickness, the head brushing against her clit before dragging back down. The sensation is torture and ecstasy all at once, and I moan against her chest, my breaths uneven.

“Do you like that, Chef?” she teases. Her chest rises sharply against my mouth, her nipples pebbling beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

“Fuck,” I manage, pressing myself against her again. “You’re killing me.”

“Bet it’d feel even better inside, wouldn’t it?”