Deep, Deep Donuts by Megan Wade

Wes

I’ve had a week-long hard on anticipating this night, and no amount of jacking off while thinking about the sweet and sexy donut maker has done anything to alleviate it. I want her, I need her, I desire to claim her. By the end of this evening, Tamara will be mine. I’ve no doubt in that.

I suppose that in my mind, she’s already been claimed. The moment I boarded her truck and stared into those ocean-blue eyes had me falling so hard, so deep, that I didn’t even want to come back up for air. I’m completely lost to this girl, and the short interactions I’ve had with her throughout the week has only managed to cement that feeling. Tamara and I belong.

With a bottle of crisp white wine in one hand, and a bunch of flowers in the other, I approach the door of the lake house, my heart pounding in my chest because it feels like I’m heading toward my destiny. I know it’s super-fast and crazy sudden, but she’s all I can think about. Nothing like this has ever happened to me.

Shifting the items into one hand, I knock on the door, taking a steadying breath as I hear footsteps on the other side. The silhouette of Tamara can be seen through the screen, curved in a way that makes my cock ache with want and my mouth salivates with need. I’m not even hungry for food. All I want, all I can think about, is tasting her while I take what I need and make her mine.

“Right on time,” she says, grinning as she pushes open the screen door and the send of meat and spices flows out onto the porch. “I just finished plating up. Hope you’re hungry!”

My eyes move down her figure, taking in the cream-colored summer dress covered with pretty blue flowers that cinches at her waist and accentuates her generous bust as it strains against the fabric. I lick my lips and half-heartedly scold myself for looking at this sweet woman as a piece of meat. But I can’t help myself. She. Is. All.

“Starving,” I say, forcing my eyes to hers before I hold up my gifts. “These are for you.”

Her smile gets even bigger, and she brushes her long, flowing hair behind her shoulder before she accepts them. “Oh wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been given flowers before. Thank you.” She lifts the bouquet of wildflowers to her nose and inhales. “They’re beautiful.”

“I could say the same about you. That dress…” I suck in some air between my teeth as I step inside and admire her openly. She does an adorable little half spin from side to side.

“You like? I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I bought it especially. It feels so summery, and the print makes me feel pretty.”

“You look gorgeous, Tamara. I think I’m the luckiest guy around the lake tonight.”

She giggles, looking at me like she doesn’t really believe me as she lifts the wine and turns to the kitchen. “Let’s get this in the fridge before it gets too warm. And these flowers need a vase. Follow me.”

I hang back a second to admire her round ass as she walks away, those big cheeks swaying hypnotically with every step. I have to refrain from letting out some sort of animal grunt, but I do sneak the chance to adjust myself so I don’t come off as leery as I’m feeling. No need to scare my beauty away.

“Thanks again for these. I really love them,” she says as she smells the flowers again while she fills a glass vase with water. “And you can call me ‘Mara’ by the way. I think I mentioned that to you before. All of my friends call me that.”

Flexing my hands against the counter on the other side, I hold her gaze with mine. “I’m not interested in being your friend.”

“Oh.” Her mouth drops open and the vase she’s holding almost falls out of her hand, tearing her gaze from mine. “Shit. Sorry! God, I can’t believe I almost dropped that.” She releases a loaded breath, then tries to laugh it off. “I’m such a klutz.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that while you were holding glass,” I say with a smile. “Here. Let me do this. You did all the cooking, so I think it's only fair that I put some flowers in a vase and pour you a glass of wine. Does that work for you?”

“Ah, yeah,” she says, relinquishing the vase and the flowers to me. “The wine glasses are in the cupboard above the stove.”

She moves to the side to let me take over, and I can’t help but notice the way she’s breathing. In and out, in and out, nice and slow, like she’s excited and nervous at the same time. Me too, sweet girl. Me too.

When I’m finished with the flowers and I’ve poured the wine, I offer her a glass and I realize I’m not going to make it through this night if I don’t do something about this tension between us really soon. So I pull the glass away before she can take it and set them aside on the counter.

“Oh.” She frowns as she follows my movement. “Are we not drinking them yet?”

“We are. But first, there’s something I’ve been dying to do,” I say, moving a little closer. She steps back and touches her fingers to her temple, a visible tremble coating her actions as she looks up at me.

“Like what?” she whispers, just as I lift a hand to touch her cheek and she gasps, her eyes fluttering closed upon the first touch.

“I need to kiss you,” I say, sliding my other hand against her waist as I draw her in closer and she looks up at me with a warring confusion.

“Need to?”

“Yes. I know this is supposed to happen at the end of a date, but those lips of yours are all I can think about. Can I kiss you, Tamara? I want your taste in my mouth before I taste anything else tonight.”

“Oh god.” Her body shakes against mine as she nods. “Yes. Yes, you can kiss me. But I have to warn you, I might not be any good at it.”

“Impossible,” I murmur, lowering my lips to hers and brushing gently against them. She seems a little frozen with nerves at first, but once I slide my tongue along her seam, she opens for me and kisses me back. I start with a gentle suck, followed by a timid exploration where I meet her tongue and she moans against mine. And that’s when my hand curls around the back of her head and I go all in. She tastes like sugar and a hint of minty toothpaste, and her scent is a mixture of food from baking and a delicate floral scent from either her soap or perfume. The combination is delicious, and as I tilt her head back and deepen the kiss, I can’t stop my body’s reaction to her.

“Whoa,” she gasps, jumping back from me with wide eyes as she looks down to where my cock is making an ungentlemanly scene, tenting my jeans and refusing to stay down, even when I try to adjust.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to freak you out.”

“Is that…” She holds out a finger, pointing at my crotch as she looks up to meet my eyes. “Is that because of… of me? Did I do that to you?”

My brow creases slightly as I drink in her surprise and wonder. “Of course. I think you’re beautiful and sexy, and I kinda lose a bit—well, a lot—of control whenever I’m near you.”

“But…but how? I… and you’re… No one has ever… Ohmigod.” Her hand shoots out to where I placed our glasses of wine and grabs hers, bringing it to her mouth and draining the contents rapidly. “I can’t believe this is finally happening.” The last part is a gentle muttering, meant more for her than for me, but it kind of flips a switch in my brain and suddenly all those little pieces start slotting together.

“What do you mean ‘no one has ever’?” I start. “Is this…” I pause and gesture between us, “the first time anything like this has happened.”

“Mmm-hmmm.” She picks up my glass and lifts it to her lips. “I'm a virgin.”

My hand shoots out and I grab the stem, stopping her from drowning her wits with alcohol. “Don’t do that, sweets. If I’m coming on too strong and making you nervous, I can back right off. You don’t need to drink this feeling away. I’m not going to hurt you, and if you need to take things slow, I’m not going to force you. I can wait. We’ve got the rest of our lives here.”

“That’s a long time,” she whispers, unwrapping her fingers from around the glass so I can set it aside.

“And I’ll wait throughout all of it if that’s what it takes for you to be comfortable. But one thing I can guarantee is that I’m not going to claim you unless you make a clear and sober decision that you want me to.”

“I want you to,” she gasps out immediately, her eyes lifting to mine with a nervous heat inside them. “Please. Don’t make me wait. I’ve been thinking about you all week too—well, longer if I’m honest because you’re kinda hot in that outfit you wear on duty.” I smile at her openness. “So, I’m ready. I’m very, very ready. And I want you to be my first.”

“In that case,” I say, closing the distance between us. “I’d like to eat you as my entrée.”