Chapter 208: You’re My Cake (1)
Georgia’s POV
"Oh—wait! We forgot to draw a card," Nick chirped like a kid who’d just found the last piece of candy.
He plucked the pink deck and pushed it at me. "You pick. We’ll take turns."
I scoffed and rolled my eyes, but my hands trembled slightly as I shuffled the cards. "You’re taking this way too seriously, you know that?" I teased.
He only smiled, the way he watches me when he knows he’s got me. "I am serious. So be serious too." His gaze bored into my palms, daring me to cheat.
I pulled one card out. My stomach dropped. "Of course—not again!" I hissed.
Nick snatched the card from my hand with that impatient grin that always makes trouble sound delicious. He read it, then his lips thinned into a wicked smile. "Looks like you’re fated to ’not’ be in control tonight," he murmured, and before I could argue, he plunged his hand into the box and picked the wrist-ankle cuff.
My heart did a stupid little leap. "I’m starting to regret buying this set," I admitted, watching him snap the restraints around my wrists and then my ankles.
He laughed low. "Why did you pick this one anyway?"
I tried to explain between a nervous inhale and a heat that was already spreading between my legs. "Well, two things. I asked the saleslady which was the bestseller because I didn’t know which one to choose, there are so many options. She handed me that one. I was mortified, I couldn’t even look at the box properly. It was so embarrassing to be in that shop, so I quickly paid and got out of there."
"I should pay that saleslady a bonus," Nick said, settling back and taking in the view. My right wrist was cuffed to my right ankle; my left matched on the other side. I felt absurd and exposed—and unbelievably turned on.
He took his forkful of icing and slow movements, smeared frosting on my chin. The cool sweetness against my heated skin made me shiver.
He didn’t stop there, put some on my chin, across my breasts, over my nipples, across my navel, trailing along my abdomen, inner thighs, and then...
"Nick! Not there!" I protested when his fingers hovered at the slick fold between my legs, but my words came out breathy and weak.
"Why?" he whispered, amused. "You’re my cake, remember?" His voice slid over me like sin.
Then he pressed frosting directly onto my slit, the cold sugar an obscene contrast to how hot I felt. It spread across me, and I could feel it pooling where I was already impossibly wet.
Air caught in my throat—I hadn’t realized how much I wanted this until the cool sweetness met my skin. Heat coiled tighter, pulse riding a high that made my knees tremble even with the cuffs holding me down.
"This is so crazy," I managed, equal parts scandalized and aching. "My god, Nick—there’s frosting everywhere."
He chuckled and tapped the tip of his finger to my clit, the tiny cool dot sending a bolt through me. "So damn sweet," he murmured, lips near the shell of my ear. "But I think it could taste even better."
I swallowed hard, cheeks flaming. The idea of him lowering his mouth there, of tasting me, literally eating me, made my chest flutter with an urgency that felt almost painful.
It was so freaking arousing. I tried to pull, to tug at the cuffs, but the restraint held; I was gloriously trapped, and every denied movement just amplified the ache.
"Stop teasing," I begged, breathless. "Please—"
He looked at me like I was his favorite sin. "Tell me what you want me to do." The command was soft, irresistible.
"I—Nick, please, remove all that frosting from me," My voice cracked. "Please eat it all. Eat me..."
He didn’t waste another second. His mouth descended, warm and authoritative. His movement was fast in licking and eating all the frosting from my chin, breasts, and abdomen.
But when the only frosting remaining was the one between my legs, he slowed down, and the first lick across the frosting made my vision blur.
I gasped, gripping the cuff, drowning in sensation as his tongue chased sweetness, then my center, and I felt myself start to fall hard and fast.
This was nothing like the usual way he licked me—no, this was different. Every stroke of his tongue dragged frosting and arousal across my most sensitive spot, and if this was what it meant to be food, then heavens help me—I wanted to be Nick’s favorite dish every single day of my life.
My teeth sank into my lower lip, trying and failing to hold back the whimper bubbling out of me. My head tipped back helplessly as a deep moan escaped when his tongue slid over my slit, savoring me along with the frosting he’d shamelessly smeared there.
"Ahh... Nick... it feels so good," I breathed, my thighs trembling in their restraints.
He didn’t answer with words, but when his eyes lifted to meet mine, there was so much raw hunger in them it made me shiver. Then he bent back down, all focus on devouring me, tongue lapping slowly, as if I was his only meal in this world.
By the time he’d licked away every trace of sweetness, I was completely undone—dripping, trembling, body screaming for more. My chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, every nerve in me strung tight with desperate arousal.
When he finally pulled back, his lips glistened. He wiped his mouth lazily with the back of his hand and smirked. "So fucking delicious," he muttered before taking a long sip of wine.
Then, without hesitation, he dropped his towel. A shaky breath left my lips. His cock sprang free, tall and hard, throbbing with need—so hard it stood almost pressed against his abs.
He stroked himself slowly, teasingly, showing me just how ready he was. "Look what you did," he teased, eyes glittering. "You made my friend excited again, as always. Should we calm him down?"
I smiled through the haze of arousal, teasing back. "Then let your friend relax inside me."
That smirk of his could’ve set me on fire. "My pleasure," he whispered before positioning himself and slowly sliding inside my soaked entrance.
The stretch was instant and overwhelming. My eyes fluttered shut, my head rolled back, and a strangled gasp broke free.
Gods, it felt like he was even bigger than before, stretching me wider, deeper, making me ache and burn in the most intoxicating way. Every inch of him filled me to the brim, and it was pure bliss—sweet, unbearable, addictive pleasure.