Seducing the Sexy Celebrity Chef Page 3

  Chef Burley threw his head back and moaned as Holly shifted his hands aside, taking more of his cock in her mouth. He was huge, but she didn’t care. This hundred-dollar olive oil was well worth the price. She sucked every drop from his beautiful shaft, then licked his balls, searching for more.

  He gasped. “Isn’t that something?”

  She assumed he meant the oil. “Mmm… oh Chef, it’s so good!”

  “You’re so good!” He toyed with her hair, tossing it over her shoulders. “The mouth on you, Holly! I’ve never felt anything like it. I want you to suck me forever.”

  “Anything!” She licked him, searching for more golden oil. “Anything for you, Chef!”

  Holly swallowed his cock as he wrapped his hands around her head, fucking her face. She gagged and pushed back, wrapping her fists around the base of his shaft. His measured pace showed he didn’t want to hurt her, but he just as obviously wanted to come.

  Unzipping her skirt, Holly undressed completely before arching forward. She grabbed the olive oil and poured it across her breasts. Chef Burley watched in awe as she massaged the gorgeous oil into her skin. It dripped down her belly as she wrapped her tits around his dick. With her pussy lips bare, the oil kissed her clit.

  Chef Burley released an animal growl.

  “You like my tits, huh?”

  “God, do I ever!”

  She steadied herself, which was no easy task in heels, and fucked his surging dick with her breasts. They looked beautiful like this, all oiled and shining in the light from the sunroof. Holly and the chef both watched in awe as his cockhead popped between her breasts.

  Chef Burley’s hands met hers and, together, they cradled her tits around his throbbing cock. “I’m going to come again if you keep this up.”

  “I sure hope so!” Holly smirked. She loved the way it felt when his cock reamed her tits. It was like a breast massage, complete with hot oil. His thumbs found her nipples and he flicked them while he fucked her.

  “God, that feels good!” Holly forced her tits against the chef’s pelvis, making him moan.

  His cockhead glistened every time it peeked out between her tits. She couldn’t resist. Bending forward, she licked his tip. He ran his hands through her hair, thrusting into her cleavage, looking for her mouth but not finding it. Her tongue put him over the edge. Hot cream splashed across her neck, and then down her chest. She trapped his cock between her tits as he pumped cum against her breasts.

  Holly watched in awe while the chef spilled his seed on her skin. She’d never thought of ejaculate as beautiful before but, sprayed across her skin, it looked like art. If only she’d remembered her camera!

  “Fuck, I can’t take anymore.” Chef Burley pulled his spent cock from between her breasts, giggling somewhat. “It’s so sensitive that it starts to tickle.”

  “Does it?” Holly smiled. “I never knew that.”

  The chef looked her up and down. His eyes followed her shapely legs down to her black heels, then back up to her breasts. She looked a mess, and she loved it. Her heart felt huge and hot. So did her clit, for that matter.

  “All this kitchen needs is a shower.” Chef Burley leaned against the island as he scanned the room. “Oh, of course! Holly, stand over that grate.”

  There was a drain in the floor, and Holly went to it, though her knees threatened to buckle with every step. Chef Burley pulled the hose out from the sink and turned the water on, casting a warm spray across her chest.

  Holly shrieked, though she really should have seen it coming. Of all the things she’d never expected to do in a kitchen… well, this was certainly one of them.

  Chef Burley shifted closer to her, bringing the nozzle with him. He cast the spray over both their bodies, like watering a garden. The nurturing image made Holly smile. She traced her hands all over his body, and he tittered when she reached his cock. Chef Burley was actually kind of adorable. That side of him was never broadcast on TV—his childlike side, his impish side. Holly was glad to see a piece of him most people never would.

  Though the water was warm, the cool air of the kitchen drew Holly’s nipples into tight buds. Her shoes were getting wet, but in that moment she couldn’t have cared less. She had everything she’d ever wanted. How had this happened?

  “Towels, towels, towels…” Chef Burley turned off the water and searched for something passable. There were tea towels in one of his gift baskets, and he pulled them out, laughing. “Think this’ll do?”

  Holly chuckled as he dried her off. It was so telling, the way a man touched a woman in moments like these. Chef Burley’s large hands guided the towel against her soft skin. He was forceful, but he wasn’t rough.

  They were both rather slick from the olive oil, but that made Holly feel wonderfully luxurious. With any other man, at any other time, she’d have been bashful, even mortified, standing naked in an industrial kitchen. Christ, she didn’t even know if the door to this restaurant was locked.

  “I would offer to cook you a little something, but, as you know—”

  “The gas isn’t hooked up,” Holly finished. A niggling doubt twirled in her belly. He was going to ask her to leave, wasn’t he?

  “Oh, before I forget…” Chef Burley slipped his pants on and found a pen and paper. “Will you write down your address for me? I’ll have my publicist send you a signed replacement copy of my book. In fact, I’ll have her throw in some DVDs of the show, and whatever else is lying around her office.”

  Tears welled in Holly’s eyes. She felt stupid and used. She vowed not to cry. “Are you paying me off? With DVDs?”

  Chef Burley appeared shocked. “What? Are you bonkers, Holly? You think I’m going to love you and leave you?”

  She tried to keep it together, but tears cascaded down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  “Sure you do.” The chef set his pen and paper down on the island and wrapped his arms around Holly. His chest was still bare, and it warmed her cold nipples, sending waves of bliss through her naked body. “You think I’ve had my fill and now it’s on to the next girl?”

  Holly nodded against his shoulder. “You’re a celebrity. Everyone wants you.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want everyone.” Chef Burley rocked her like a baby. “I knew you didn’t believe me when I said it before. Seducing beautiful young women isn’t part of my daily routine.”

  A blush spread across Holly’s cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

  “You still don’t believe me,” he said, holding her close. “But we’ll work on that.”

  Holly leaned back and looked into the chef’s eyes. They were sky blue, like a sunny afternoon. “Work on it. How?”

  “Tonight, for instance.” He slid his hands down her arms and grasped her hands. “I finally have an evening free of publicity, investors, cameras. I’d planned on watching television in my hotel room, and maybe devouring an entire bag of kettle chips.”

  Holly laughed. “Wow, that’s classy.”

  With a smirk, the chef said, “Now that you’re in the picture, perhaps we could check out the competition, see what the other dining establishments in town have to offer. Get to know each other a little better?”

  Holly’s cheeks must have been beet red. She couldn’t believe this was happening. “Sure. I’d love to. As long as… well, you’re not going to be mean to the owners if the food isn’t up to snuff, are you?”

  “I assure you, my attention will be devoted to you and you alone.” He winked. “Unless our meals are absolutely atrocious.”

  “Maybe we could just grab some fish and chips on the boardwalk and take a stroll along the beach?”

  Chef Burley smiled like he couldn’t be more pleased. “That sounds perfect.”

  They stood together, gazing into each other’s eyes like a couple of lovesick teenagers. If anyone had told Holly she’d end her afternoon naked in a kitchen with her favourite celebrity chef, she’d have called them crazy. And this wasn’t the end. There was more to
come. Crazy!

  “Now, then.” Chef Burley squeezed Holly’s hands, and then let go. “Let’s see if we can’t find your clothes.”

  The End

  ABOUT GISELLE RENARDE

  Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, contributor to more than 100 short story anthologies, and award-winning author of dozens of electronic and print books, including Anonymous, Ondine, and Nanny State. Giselle lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

  Ms. Renarde’s anthology My Mistress’ Thighs: Erotic Transgender Fiction and Poetry received an Honourable Mention in the 2011 Rainbow Awards, and her book The Red Satin Collection took top prize in the same category in 2012. She is a contributor to Tristan Taormino’s Lambda Award-winning book Take Me There: Trans and Genderqueer Erotica, as well as such notable anthologies as Best Women's Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bondage Erotica, and Best Lesbian Romance.

  Online, Giselle has contributed erotic content to such websites as For The Girls, Ruthie's Club, Three Pillows, Oysters & Chocolate, The Erotic Woman, Every Night Erotica, Frequently Felt, Whipped Cream, Long and Short Romance, and Every Day Poets.

  If you enjoyed Seducing the Sexy Celebrity Chef, you might also enjoy:

  Secret Confessions: 36 Erotic Encounters

  By Giselle Renarde

  No naughty encounter is ever complete until you tell somebody about it. And who doesn’t feel a tingle while reading a naughty story and wondering, “Is this true? Did that really happen?”

  In this collection, you’ll find a whopping 36 erotic stories, as explicit as they are wicked! These confessions involve lesbian encounters, exhibitionism, porn appreciation, voyeurism, masturbation and self-love, cheating and deception, threesomes, group sex, sploshing, ice play, public sex, fisting, sex with a loving partner, female fantasies, rimming, anal play, stranger sex, double penetration, spanking, insertions, bondage, and so much more!

  Excerpt from Secret Confessions:

  I’m sleeping with a married man. There. I had to get that off my chest.

  You’ll understand, I’m sure, if I don’t tell you his name. After all, he could be someone you know. Or you may know his wife or his kids. I wouldn’t want word to get back to them. And just because he’s cheating doesn’t mean he’s a bad man. He isn’t bad, he simply has needs. We all do.

  So, what’s it like? Well, last Saturday was a perfect example. At 5:30 in the morning, I heard his key in my door. That smooth metallic noise wakes me every time. It’s better than an alarm clock. I’d been looking forward to seeing him all week. I look forward to it every week.

  He tells his wife he likes to jog early in the morning, before pollution envelops the city. He tells her he enjoys his run better when there are fewer people on the sidewalks, and when the sun hasn’t yet risen. These are only half-truths, because he actually does jog all the way from his house to mine. I doubt if his wife even notices anymore when he rolls out of bed before dawn. I doubt if she ever notices him at all. That’s fine. I’ve taken it upon myself to notice him. In fact, I could notice him all day and all night, if I ever had the opportunity.

  I emerged from the depths of slumber as he kicked off his shoes in my front hall. I scrambled out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. When you only get to see your lover once a week, you always want to look and smell and taste perfect. And morning breath is a major turn-off. When I switched off the bathroom light, my eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough to the darkness of my bedroom.

  I asked, “Where are you?” as I walked straight into him. Ouch. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  He concurred with his standard stand-by, “Likewise.”

  “All week I’ve been waking up and asking myself, ‘Is it Saturday yet…?’”

  That’s all I managed to say before he kissed me. An entire week’s worth of kisses in less than one minute.

  YOU’VE REACHED

  “THE END!”

  BUY THIS AND MORE TITLES AT

  www.eXcessica.com

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  ABOUT GISELLE RENARDE

  Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, contributor to more than 100 short story anthologies, and award-winning author of dozens of electronic and print books, including Anonymous, Ondine, and Nanny State. Giselle lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

  Ms. Renarde’s anthology My Mistress’ Thighs: Erotic Transgender Fiction and Poetry received an Honourable Mention in the 2011 Rainbow Awards, and her book The Red Satin Collection took top prize in the same category in 2012. She is a contributor to Tristan Taormino’s Lambda Award-winning book Take Me There: Trans and Genderqueer Erotica, as well as such notable anthologies as Best Women's Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bondage Erotica, and Best Lesbian Romance.

  Online, Giselle has contributed erotic content to such websites as For The Girls, Ruthie's Club, Three Pillows, Oysters & Chocolate, The Erotic Woman, Every Night Erotica, Frequently Felt, Whipped Cream, Long and Short Romance, and Every Day Poets.

  If you enjoyed Seducing the Sexy Celebrity Chef, you might also enjoy:

  Secret Confessions: 36 Erotic Encounters

  By Giselle Renarde

  No naughty encounter is ever complete until you tell somebody about it. And who doesn’t feel a tingle while reading a naughty story and wondering, “Is this true? Did that really happen?”

  In this collection, you’ll find a whopping 36 erotic stories, as explicit as they are wicked! These confessions involve lesbian encounters, exhibitionism, porn appreciation, voyeurism, masturbation and self-love, cheating and deception, threesomes, group sex, sploshing, ice play, public sex, fisting, sex with a loving partner, female fantasies, rimming, anal play, stranger sex, double penetration, spanking, insertions, bondage, and so much more!

  Excerpt from Secret Confessions:

  I’m sleeping with a married man. There. I had to get that off my chest.

  You’ll understand, I’m sure, if I don’t tell you his name. After all, he could be someone you know. Or you may know his wife or his kids. I wouldn’t want word to get back to them. And just because he’s cheating doesn’t mean he’s a bad man. He isn’t bad, he simply has needs. We all do.

  So, what’s it like? Well, last Saturday was a perfect example. At 5:30 in the morning, I heard his key in my door. That smooth metallic noise wakes me every time. It’s better than an alarm clock. I’d been looking forward to seeing him all week. I look forward to it every week.

  He tells his wife he likes to jog early in the morning, before pollution envelops the city. He tells her he enjoys his run better when there are fewer people on the sidewalks, and when the sun hasn’t yet risen. These are only half-truths, because he actually does jog all the way from his house to mine. I doubt if his wife even notices anymore when he rolls out of bed before dawn. I doubt if she ever notices him at all. That’s fine. I’ve taken it upon myself to notice him. In fact, I could notice him all day and all night, if I ever had the opportunity.

  I emerged from the depths of slumber as he kicked off his shoes in my front hall. I scrambled out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. When you only get to see your lover once a week, you always want to look and smell and taste perfect. And morning breath is a major turn
-off. When I switched off the bathroom light, my eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough to the darkness of my bedroom.

  I asked, “Where are you?” as I walked straight into him. Ouch. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  He concurred with his standard stand-by, “Likewise.”

  “All week I’ve been waking up and asking myself, ‘Is it Saturday yet…?’”

  That’s all I managed to say before he kissed me. An entire week’s worth of kisses in less than one minute.

  YOU’VE REACHED

  “THE END!”

  BUY THIS AND MORE TITLES AT

  www.eXcessica.com