Sugar’s breath came out as ragged gasps. Heat flushed her skin, and an indescribable high did swam around in her head. She felt like she floated between dimensions. Like she was out of body and out of her fucking mind.

With a low, deep laugh, Chef planted noisy, appreciative kisses all over her thighs. “You sure know how to feed an old bastard, honey. I could eat you up for hours and hours.”

She moaned as he kissed her sensitive clit.

Then he brushed her leg off his shoulder and slowly stood up. Sugar sat on the kitchen counter, her weak legs dangling off the edge. He placed his tattooed hands on her hips and guided her down onto the floor.

She stumbled for a moment, but Chef steadied her, flashing her a cocky grin.

“Whoa there, darlin’,” he said. “You alright?”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“I haven’t forgotten my manners,” he said, amusement crinkling the laugh lines around his eyes.

“If you haven’t forgotten your manners, then what do you call eating me out in my own kitchen?”

“Dessert,” he answered.

Sugar clenched her thighs together to relieve the pulsing achiness there—to silence it. She closed her eyes, trying to regain a sense of herself, but his presence alone catalyzed her unraveling.

“Chef, I really don’t know what to do with you,” Sugar said softly.

“I can help you with that,” he returned, pulling her into his brawny arms.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck to kiss and nibble there while his hands slid over the curve of her ass. Boldly, he lifted her nightgown and spread his calloused fingers across her cheeks, gripping them.

She melted against him.

“I know plenty of things you can do to me. With me.” Chef’s palms kneaded her ass unhurriedly. His chuckle tangled with her squeal as he gave her left cheek a nice pop.

She enjoyed the sweet sting buzzing across her flesh, but she needed to get back at him.

An eye for an eye.

Gathering courage, Sugar leaned up and bit him playfully just above the crook of his neck. It earned her his groan.

She smiled against his flesh, savoring her minor victory before biting him a little harder. Then, a deep growl rumbled from his chest, sending shivers through her whole body.

Chef attempted to capture her lips, but she turned her head just in time, causing his mouth to land on her cheek instead.

“I’m sick,” she reminded him—and herself.

“Mm, those lips aren’t the only ones you got.” His hands trailed down the underside of her thighs and scooped her up against him. She tightened her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“I thought we were finished.”

“No, honey. We ain’t finished until you cum on my tongue again.”

Heat spread through her veins, and she forced back a moan of anticipation.

She didn’t know how to respond to that. Was there anything she could say other than ‘please, please, yes, please’?

Chef carried her out of the kitchen and back to her bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and settled his head between her legs again, his eager face half-hidden by her short nightie. He maneuvered her legs over his shoulders, readying himself for a second serving of her. Gripping the underside of her left thigh, he tilted it wider, allowing him better access to the treat he craved.

Sugar choked on a plea as she arched her hips off the bed, bliss washing over her in waves, still lingering from the orgasm she had barely a few minutes prior.

Her cell phone rang, just a few inches away from her head.

The ringtone belonged to Odette.

She smoothed her hand over his head, signaling him to stop. “I need to... answer the phone!”

Chef, ignoring both the ringing phone and her weak protest, flattened his tongue on her clit for long licks.

“Please, Chef,” she whimpered. “Please let me...”

With a dissatisfied growl, he stopped but continued to kiss and bite her inner thighs.

Sugar reached for the phone with a shaky hand and answered it. “H-Hello?”

“Happy birthday!” a chorus of familiar voices shouted at her.

She blinked in shock at the volume.

“Thank y—,” she began but gasped as Chef lifted her left calf to lick the sensitive crook of her knee. She quickly cleared her throat and swatted his head lightly as punishment. His eyes glinted with the promise of trouble as he resumed his relentless teasing.

“Thank you,” Sugar managed to say.

“Having a girls’ night isn’t the same without you,” Rochelle said.

“I wish I could’ve been there,” Sugar returned.

“You sound a lot better,” Odette noted.

“I’m getting there,” she stuttered at the end, trying her hardest not to moan as Chef kissed his way back to where he wanted his mouth to go.

He spoke in a low voice meant only for her ears: “Just one more taste, sweetheart.”

Her clit throbbed in response. Sugar mouthed a firm “no” and shook her head, attempting to regain some control of the situation.

“Since you can’t come to the party, we’re bringing the party to you,” Katrina said on the other end.

“What?” Sugar’s heart skipped a beat.

“We’re pulling up to your house right now,” Odette informed her excitedly.

A panicked Sugar hung up the phone and tossed it like a hot potato from her grasp.

“Get off, get off, get off,” she chanted frantically at the man between her thighs. “My sisters are here. Oh, my fucking god.”

An amused Chef flopped onto his back, watching as Sugar scurried off the bed and raced into her bathroom to retrieve her robe off the hook on the door.

“Just,” she blurted, her brain scrambling for words as she quickly shrugged on her robe and tied it, frantic, “stay right here.”

When the doorbell rang, her heart nearly stopped.

Sugar rushed out of the bedroom, slammed the door shut behind her, and fled down the hallway, skidding to a halt in front of the door. She rose to the tips of her toes to look out the peephole. A squad of women, in their sexy little clubbing outfits, waited on her front porch with gift bags in their hands.

Sugar closed her eyes and took a deep, deep breath to calm her fraying nerves. “Just keep calm, and they won’t ever know.”

Then, she undid the locks and opened the door.

“What a surprise,” she said, forcing a weak smile.

“Somebody’s Mustang is parked in front of your house at the curb,” Rochelle informed her.

Sugar feigned a surprised flavor of confusion, lifting her eyebrows. “Really? That’s odd.”

To sell the lie, she cranked her neck to peek at the sports car. The ladies sashayed into the house and made their way to the kitchen.

Helena sniffed the air, a wide smile forming on her lips. “Mmm, it smells amazing in here. You cooked?”

She nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I ate something.”

Helena headed straight to the fridge and found what she was looking for: alcohol.

Sugar always kept a bottle or two of wine in the house. Helena retrieved a bottle of Chardonnay and happily trotted over to the drawer that housed the corkscrew, as she always did.

Odette, Rochelle, and Reid seated themselves at the kitchen table. Katrina remained standing, glancing around the kitchen with a curious look, as if she sensed something was off.

Sugar cleared her throat, ironing the quavers in her voice. “Did you do any club-hopping?”

Reid pouted. “We only went to one, but there wasn’t much going on. Just a bunch of old dudes wanting to buy us drinks.”

“That’s a bummer.” Sugar frowned, feigning sympathy.

“So,” Odette spoke in a sing-song voice, “we came by to bear our gifts to the birthday girl.”

“That’s real sweet,” she replied. “Y’all didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to,” Helena assured her. By then, she had already poured herself some wine and took deep gulps as she sat on the kitchen counter.

Sugar’s eyes widened in horror when she realized Helena sat where she’d been only minutes ago.

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