Page 27 of The Perfect Ingredient
“You should see yourself,” he tells Jean. “So open and flushed. So wet and ruined. Beautiful.”
Jean lets out a moan, and it is the sound of lust made manifest. It’s the vibration of pure need—a sound so obscene and glorious it feels like he’s just given lust a voice for the very first time.
Hessou smiles, leans up to kiss my neck.
“You feel it?”
I nod, body shaking.
His hand slips around to my stomach, fingers tracing upward to play with my nipple. Then he presses a kiss to Jean’s back.
“Good boy.”
Jean moans, hips rocking, and I fuck into him.
The first thrust makes him cry out, a desperateahthat echoes in the kitchen. The next pulls a moan from his throat so shaky it borders on a sob.
“God! God, it’s—”
I thrust again, deep, and he keens.
“Too much?” I ask, panting, my hands spread over his back.
“No,” he chokes out, hips pushing back into me. “Please.”
Hessou chuckles softly. “He likes being filled. Look at him.”
I do.
His back glistens with sweat. His thighs are shaking. His entire body trembles, his fight to stay still a lost cause—he is overstimulated, spread wide,needy.
And with every shift of my hips, the slick sounds grow wetter and filthier.
Hessou leans over Jean’s side, one hand locking onto his hip to hold him steady while the other slides beneath the pastry bag, cupping the heavy weight of his cock through the fabric.
“Still dripping for us. As if you’ll never run dry.”
Jean jerks at the touch.
I fuck him harder.
A wail rips out of him—high and broken, shattering into gasps and half-formed words.
“God, please— it’s—I—I can’t— gonna—”
Hessou’s fingers stroke a teasing line up his shaft through the cloth, and then Jean comesagain,his ass clenching tight around me, milking me through his climax.
I moan into his back, and all I know is the heat of him.
“Dieu,”I say, licking the sweat from his spine. “You tastesogood like this.”
Jean whines, his whole body still pulsing.
And I thrust again.
My body is locked tight, fighting to not drive too fast into him, but every thrust brings a moan, a gasp, a chokedplease.
Hessou’s hand cups my jaw, and he kisses me the moment I turn to him, his lips slick with the taste of sugar and raspberries and everything we’ve poured into Jean. Our mouths tangle hard, teeth clacking for a moment before we find the rhythm.
