Page 20 of The Perfect Ingredient
“Sunshine. Hereallydoes smell like sunshine.” Hessou’s eyes flick to me, something bright behind them. “You saidIwas your rarest flavor.”
I cross my arms, leaning back against the wall.
“I saidboth. You don’t need to be jealous.”
“I’m not.”
I snort, and he moves to my side, leans into me while watching Jean the whole time.
“I can see why you’re obsessed,” he says to me. “But you didn’t say he wasthisshy.”
“Idid,” I say lightly, stepping in close enough to touch Jean’s sleeve. “You just didn’t listen.”
Jean’s eyes dart between us, and he licks his lips.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,monsieur,” he says. “I can… I’ll just leave the flour here.”
“Jean,” I say, my fingers brushing down his arm until I find his wrist. He shudders. “I don’t want you to run away again.”
His mouth opens, then shuts again.
“I thought about it. You weredelicious,but I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought maybe I’d gone too far.”
Jean shakes his head, flushed all over. Anyone else would have fled. Or punched me. But Jean just stands here—face red, cock hard.
“I wanted to ask,” I continue, because only an idiot would let this chance slip away. “If you wanted to… try it again. We’d stop the instant you asked.”
He swallows, then finally speaks.
“My body hasn’t stopped burning since that day. I… I can’t calm down, even when I try. Just with my hand, it doesn’t help. I keep thinking about how it felt. Your mouth. And the way you— and the look on your face when you swallowed.”
He pauses, blinking fast. His cock visibly leaking through the front of his pants, the wet patch darkening fast.
“I ache all the time now. I leak through everything. I had to stuff a rag in my underwear just to come here.”
I glance at Hessou.
He looks utterly delighted.
“Mon Dieu,” he murmurs, eyes tracing the line of Jean’s flushed neck. “Are you always like this?”
Jean nods, helpless.
“It’s worse now,” he mumbles.
Hessou steps forward, his voice quieter.
“You’re sure you want this? It can all become too dirty, too fast.”
“I want it,” he says clearly.
I smile.
“Good. You’ll like it.”
“Yes,” Jean whispers.
Hessou exhales behind me—not quite a laugh, not quite a groan.
