Yes, Chef #2 Service & Submission

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Marie never imagined she'd meet someone like Baxter Wilcox; Domineering, controlling, and with a cruel streak that would make most people run. But Marie isn't running, oh no, she's finding herself drawn to the head chef in a way that confuses and concerns her. At first she finds herself rebelling against the changes he insists on making to her restaurant, but soon he has her bent over and begging. Agile fingers know her weak spots, and teasing words thrill her to the core. Lost in his winter blue eyes and those sweet, venomous grins, Marie can only wonder if she's in over her head.

11K words of steamy rough sex, orgasm denial, spanking, and more.

WARNING, FOR ADULTS ONLY, CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEXUAL SCENES

Excerpt-----

He kissed her like she was the finest wine, and he had no qualms swallowing the whole bottle.

Marie moved under him, twisting until she was facing the head chef fully. He didn't try to stop her, he only held her cheeks as if she might try and escape his seeking lips. Her back was pressed into the edge of the counter, and he stood between her legs, pushing her into the metal edge roughly. Thumbs brushed her soft skin, his fingers sliding back, behind her skull and down her neck. Baxter made a path with his palms, outlining her shoulders and down until he had her by the waist.

'He still tastes like figs,' she thought suddenly.

The man lifted her easily, setting her onto the surface that they would ready orders during service. Marie shivered, finding herself eye level with those pools of winter blue. He tugged on her lower lip, hard enough with those sharp teeth to make her both flinch and moan in ecstasy; He was too good at reading her, her body was boiling with need.

The blonde pulled away, and she whined in regret, her hands digging into his shoulders to pull him back. Baxter only chuckled, his new goal clear when he bent down to take one of her firm pink nipples into his laughing mouth. The warm suction of his lips sent jolts of pleasure to her throbbing arousal. When he crushed his hands into her spine to force her to arch her breasts further into his face, Marie cried out, loud in the silent restaurant.

Her breathing was heavy, her chest thrumming under him; She was sure he could feel her heart vividly. Baxter drifted his hands low, hooking the straps of her black panties, inching them down her thighs where they hung on either side of him. The blonde man set one of her hard rosebuds free of his tongue, long enough to step back and tug the ruined garment away from her feet. The sound she made was low, desperate.

Pushing her creamy legs open, the head chef knelt, licking her stomach as he went. The movement made Marie blink, her grip shifting to hold onto his wrists. If she had any plans to try and push him away, to snap her thighs together and leap free of this sexual encounter, she made no further indication. Her fingers were tight in anticipation on him, her knuckles white as bone.

Baxter slowed when he brushed his finely shaped nose over the indent of her belly button, twinkling eyes rolling up to peer at her from under his lowered brows. His words were hauntingly low, sweet and dark as coffee. “Your lust is strong, my dear. I can smell it from here. How hungry is this little pussy of yours?”

He was blunt, and it made her flush in a bloom of red. She knew she was soaked, she could feel her liquid along the junction of her thighs, pooling on the metal counter beneath her ass.

“It has a lovely scent,” he grinned wickedly, rubbing his cheek on the inside of her leg and moving ever closer to his target. “I think I'd like a taste, should I, Marie? Would you like that?”

Baxter pulled one his hands free from her, leaving her palm to fall to the table almost absently. Marie was too focused on him, staring intently at his face, his every little motion. When he ran his digits down, grazing over the small, soft curls of hair, trimmed as they were, he gave a sigh. She trembled when he kept on, tracing the crease on either side of her nethers, teasing her with his avoidance.

Everything he did was making her quiver, and she was sure, with how close he was, he could see the swollen button of her clit jump with her need. “Well, Marie? Would you?”

The chef slipped an agile finger tip up the dew coated front of her slit, coating it in her juice and making her inhale; Sharp and swift as if she had forgotten to breathe at all. “Yes, oh god, I would!”

That laugh was amused, and it vibrated through her skin with his closeness.

“Of course you would.”