When Grace arrived at Jaime’s after her shift at Trudy’s, she had chili splattered on her shirt after a fellow server had run into her by accident. She’d smelled like onions and chili powder all afternoon, and the smell was cloying at this point.
“Have a good day?” Jaime called from inside the house.
Grace inhaled. She knew that smell—he was making pupusas. Her mouth watered, and she followed the scent into the kitchen.
One of the biggest perks of dating Jaime was the food: he cooked her the most amazing, delicious food, so much so that she’d probably gained five pounds since they’d started dating three months ago. She couldn’t complain, really. Few people had boyfriends who not only cooked for them, but who looked dreamy as they worked in the kitchen.
Grace leaned against the doorframe, just watching Jaime cook. He’d rolled his shirt up his forearms, exposing his tanned skin, and he sautéed some amazing combination with a flick of his wrist, whistling as he cooked. His dark hair curled at the back of his neck, and Grace had to restrain herself from going up behind him and playing with it. She loved his hair. She also loved how his stubble brushed against her skin as he kissed her, or how he smelled like cedar and something she had yet to identify. Whatever it was, it set her heart pounding as much as the first day she’d met him.
“How was work?” he asked again, looking at her. Then seeing her stained shirt, he raised an eyebrow. “Have an accident?”
“Jason ran into me.” She looked down at her shirt, which was definitely ruined. “Isn’t it lovely? It looks like someone puked on me.”
“No talking about puke in my kitchen.” He kissed her quickly before returning to the food. “Dinner will be ready soon, so go take a shower.”
She smiled. “Yes, sir.”
He smacked her on the butt for that, and she squealed.
After a quick shower that got rid of most of the smell of chili from her skin, she tossed the shirt in the garbage and was about to slip into her usual yoga pants and tank top, when she considered. Jaime didn’t really care what she wore, but tonight, she wanted to surprise him. Not only with her outfit, but with something else she’d wanted to do for some time…if she had the guts to ask him.
She pulled out an emerald lace bra and matching panties from the depths of her drawer, a gift from Joy for her birthday that had made Grace blush and Joy laugh. Now Grace thanked her friend for her foresight. Grace had never bought lingerie for herself, simply because it had seemed unnecessary.
But that had all changed, hadn’t it?
She slipped on a t-shirt and yoga pants, mostly so the lingerie would be a surprise. She also wasn’t brazen enough to sit at the dining room table in her bra and undies. She had to stifle a laugh, imagining sitting in her lingerie while trying not to get food all over the lace.
Jaime was placing food on the table when she came in. She sighed in sheer happiness. Food like this was truly the way to a woman’s heart. Sitting down, she waited for him to sit as well before digging in.
Jaime had made sure to feed her a variety of El Salvadoran dishes, with pupusas con chicharrón as both of their mutual favorite. Made of a thick corn tortilla filled with pork, it was served with curtido, a slaw with red chilies. Jaime made the tortillas himself, usually when he had the day off, and then proceeded to create so much food that Grace would inevitably feel like she wouldn’t be able to eat for days afterward.
“This is amazing,” she said as she took a bite. “I think I love you.”
He flashed her a grin. “That’s the goal, you know.”
“To keep me coming back for more? You’ve succeeded. I’ll never ever leave.” She took a bite of the curtido and almost shed a tear, it was so good.
They ate until they could barely move, and there were still tons of leftovers for the rest of the week. Grace eventually got up and began doing the dishes, which she usually did if Jaime cooked. Sometimes she did the cooking, and he was always smart enough to tell her everything she made was good, even if they both knew she could never match him in that department.
As she washed a dish, she felt hands come around her waist. She sighed as Jaime kissed the side of her neck. Her hair was still in its short bob, which gave him easy access to her neck and shoulders. She closed her eyes, the dish slipping into the sink.
“Do the dishes later,” he said in a low voice, trailing kisses down to her shoulder.
She remembered what she’d wanted to ask him. She couldn’t let him distract her—not yet. Turning, she placed her hands on his chest and said, “I want to paint tonight.”
He blinked. “You mean, right this second?”
She nodded. “I feel inspired tonight.”
He seemed nonplussed at her deciding to paint instead of make out, which she thought was rather adorable. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she told herself to be brave and ask him.
“I want to paint you,” she said.
“Yes.” She bit her lip, and she could feel a blush crawling up her face when she added, “In the nude.”
His eyebrows flew up, practically to his hairline. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Then, to her relief, he laughed. “Why, Graciela,” he said, his hands trailing down to her ass, “I had no idea you were so kinky.”
She pushed him away playfully and told him to go to the living room while she got her paints.
“Should I be naked when you get there?” he called.
“Whatever you want to do!”
She rather hoped he would be naked by the time she got her things together, mostly because watching Jaime strip had a tendency to distract her. She wanted to do this. She had been painting more and more lately, and although she’d yet to create a painting she absolutely loved, she at least liked what she was creating. That feeling had been absent from her painting for way too long.
She carried her paints, easel and a new canvas into the living room, where Jaime was lounging on the couch, completely nude, with everything visible. She spluttered.
“I’m not doing a recreation of the Titanic painting!” She set her things down and then hit him with a pillow. “At least try to be classy about it.”
He laughed a husky laugh. “I’m just following your directions, madam.”
“No, you’re not. Behave yourself.”
He smirked. She patently ignored his burgeoning erection, although it made her skin hot and prickly.
“How do you want me to pose?” he asked, sitting up.
“Um…” She honestly wasn’t sure. She’d only thought this far ahead. “I guess, try to pose naturally?”
“I’m not sure sitting around in the nude is anything I’d call natural.” He looked like he was biting back a smile. “But I’ll do my best.”
Grace rolled her eyes as she began sharpening a pencil. Before long, silence fell, and she started sketching the lines of Jaime’s body. He’d posed in a half-sitting position, looking off into the distance. Her heart hammered as she watched him, drawing him in long strokes of her pencil. He had a gorgeous body, she had to admit. The lines of his muscles, how his arms curved and angled, how his chest hair was scattered over his firm chest. She licked her lips.
It was such a strangely intimate thing, drawing him like this. It wasn’t just the sexual tension—although that was there, making her palms sweaty and her body long for him—but there was also a level of trust that somehow changed everything. He’d trusted her enough to let her do this, and gratitude filled her.
After sketching, she began mixing paints. Jaime turned his head, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“How long will I get to sit here?” he asked.
She shivered at the rumble of his voice. “For a bit longer. I just want to start in on the actual painting.”
She swirled her brush in a warm brown, painting in his skin. For some reason, every stroke of the brush caused her body to tighten, like the brush was painting her. She swallowed, her mouth dry. She could see that Jaime was still aroused, and concentrating became more and more difficult.
As she licked her lips, she saw him staring at her. His eyes darkened, his body now at attention in more ways than one. She set the paintbrush down, her hands too shaky to keep it steady.
Getting up, she wiped her hands on an old towel she used for painting before going to the couch. Standing over Jaime, she watched as he moved so his feet touched the floor, spanning her waist with his hands. In this position, he was about level with her breasts, which she definitely noticed. Her nipples peaked beneath the fabric of her shirt.
“Graciela,” he intoned. A slight flush appeared high on his cheekbones.
She touched his hair, smoothed a finger across one of his dark eyebrows. “I love you,” she said simply, because it seemed like the thing to say.
“I love you.” He then repeated the phrase in Spanish, which she could recognize now. Her heart contracted as he leaned forward and kissed her on her heart.
Her heart hammering, she caught the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, exposing the emerald lace bra. Since it was a demi-cup, it barely covered her nipples, pushing her breasts up and out, on display just for him.
His eyes darkened, his eyelids heavy. He clenched his fists, like he was restraining himself. His chest heaved, and she could see his erection growing. She couldn’t help the shiver that traveled through her body.
She stepped toward him again, and he took her into his arms. Burying his face between her breasts, she gasped as he kissed her bare skin of her sternum. He growled low in his throat. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Do you like it?”
“Like it? I’m about to spontaneously combust. So yeah, I like it.” He palmed one breast and rubbed his thumb across her sensitive nipple. She groaned, tipping her head back. His fingers were insistent, plucking and pulling as he kissed the tops of her breasts. His tongue swirled across the soft skin.
She put her hands on his shoulder to push him away. But before he could protest, she smiled and slipped out of her yoga pants, revealing the tiny matching panties. He swore underneath his breath.
“Where did you get these?” He kissed her belly, gripping her ass.
“They were a gift.” She gasped as his tongue made a circle around her belly button. “I guess I should wear them more often.”
He growled, and then in a swift move, he pulled her into his lap before standing up, her legs hitched over his hips. She could feel his erection through the thin barrier of her silk panties, and it only made her thighs clench harder around him.
He carried her until her back met the living room wall, Jaime’s mouth descending on hers. He kissed her until her head spun, until she had to clutch at his shoulders to keep herself from melting into the wall. His stubble scraped at her chin and cheeks, and she reveled in the bite of pain it caused. Running her fingers through the soft hair at his nape, she couldn’t help but smile when he shuddered.
“God Graciela, I can’t go slow.” He kissed her throat, her collarbone. His hands clutched her hips, massaged her ass.
She kissed him, and they both moaned at the same time. His erection pressed against her, and she wiggled, needing that friction. Her body was on fire; she was desperate for more. For all of him.
She gasped again when his mouth latched onto one of her nipples, tonguing it through the lace of her bra. “God yes,” she said, panting.
She gripped his hips harder with her legs as one of his hands danced below, massaging her through her panties. He groaned, licking at her throat. She already knew she was soaked, aching for him.
He moved her panties aside as he stroked a finger through her folds. She moaned in the back of her throat. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she almost worried that she’d draw blood. But he didn’t tell her to stop. Instead, he pushed a finger inside her, crooking it slightly, and then thrust in and out, pushing her closer and closer to a climax. He kept kissing her neck, licking her throat, nipping at the angle between neck and shoulder. Her body flushed, and she tried to move her hips in time with his finger.
Right as she was about to come, he withdrew his finger; she whimpered. But then he started filling her with his cock, and, closing her eyes, stars burst behind her eyelids. He kept pushing until he was completely inside her. She felt full, almost too full, but her entire body shivered at the sensation. She was so close, it was like her nerves were on fire.
He set out a quick, ruthless rhythm. She wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on, letting him use her body, loving the way he lost control. Her moans changed into high-pitched squeaks and cries, and with every thrust, his pelvis brushed against her clit.
Grace kissed him, darting her tongue into his mouth, and he bit her bottom lip lightly. He thrust harder, his cock filling her over and over again, and her head hit the wall behind her as she body began arching. She was so close, so close, she could feel it in her fingertips…
His thumb circled her clit. He told her how amazing she felt, how tight and wet and hot, and with one last brush of his thumb, she exploded. Her body shuddered, lightning bolts running through her, and she felt him tremble and shout, coming with her. She could feel the warmth of his seed inside her, and it only made her orgasm lengthen, endless and almost painfully exquisite.
She collapsed against him, breathing hard, her whole frame shivering. He was still inside her, half-hard, even as he walked her back to the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and kissed her, slow, soft kisses that seduced her all over again.
She sighed, happy and replete and rather wishing she could fall asleep right then.
“That was good,” she said, smiling.
“Good? You about killed me, woman.” He kissed her nose, her chin, her forehead.
She smiled wider. “It was pretty good.”
He growled, pushing his pelvis against hers, making her gasp. “Now you’re just being contrary.”
“Never.” She kissed him on the lips. “And just remember: I still have to finish my painting.”
“Oh, I’m looking forward to that.” His eyes gleamed. “You can paint as many paintings of me as you want, Graciela.”
“I’ll keep you to that promise,” she said before he kissed her, and no more words were needed.