Chapter 219
**Sara**
I moved around my kitchen, gathering ingredients for dinner. The memory of Tom's teasing made my cheeks flush as I chopped vegetables with perhaps more force than necessary.
"Stupid, sexy professor," I muttered, tossing diced onions into a pan. The sizzle and aroma filled the kitchen as I stirred them around.
The memory of Tom bending me over right here on this countertop hit me like a freight train. I couldn't help but smirk as I remembered how it all started. A casual evening making dinner became one of my life's steamiest nights.
"Need a hand with that?" Tom asked, stepping up behind me, his voice dripping with playful intent. His hands found my hips and pulled my ass back against his crotch.
"I've got it under control," I said, trying to focus on the onions. He wasn't having any of it. One hand slid under my shirt, moving up my stomach to cup my breast, fingers teasing my nipple.
"Are you sure?" he murmured, his breath hot on my neck. Damn him. My body responded instantly, nipples hardening under his touch. My clit throbbed with growing arousal.
"You're distracting me," I gasped, but I wasn't fooling anyone. Least of all myself. I wanted this as much as he did. His other hand slipped into my waistband, fingers brushing the wetness between my legs.
"Good," he growled, turning me around in one swift motion. He lifted me onto the counter, knocking over a jar of spices. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. The hungry look in his eyes sent shivers down my spine.
"Tom... the dinner," I half-heartedly protested, my voice a breathy whisper as he tugged my shirt up, exposing my breasts. He captured one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking hard. I arched my back, moaning.
"Dinner can wait," he said, moving his thumb in slow circles around my clit. The teasing was unbearable. I ground against his hand, desperate for more.
"Take them off," I demanded. The words came out more like a plea than a command. He didn't need to be told twice. My jeans and panties were gone in seconds. His fingers slid inside me, stretching me deliciously.
"God, you're so wet," he groaned, biting his lip. His own need was evident as he freed his cock from his pants.
I pulled him closer, kissing him fiercely. "Fuck me, Tom," I breathed against his lips. He lined himself up and thrust into me, filling me completely. I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.
He set a relentless pace, pounding into me with such force that the counter shook beneath us. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through me, building with each stroke. I wrapped my legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper.
"Harder," I begged, grabbing onto his ass, guiding him. He obliged, the intensity increasing until I felt like I was teetering on the edge of oblivion. His cock hit all the right spots, sending me spiraling toward my climax.
"Tom, I'm... oh god..." I barely managed to get the words out. My orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, my body shuddering with the force of it. He groaned, hips jerking as he found his own release, spilling inside the condom.
We stayed like that for a moment, breathing hard, hearts racing. Finally, he pulled out, still holding me close.
"Holy shit," I laughed, pressing my forehead against his. "We'll never look at this kitchen the same way again."
"Definitely not," he agreed, reclaiming his usual cheeky grin. "Let's just hope we didn't break anything."
As I stirred the sizzling onions, the heat from my memory stirred something more primal within me. The kitchen now felt like sacred ground, a place marked by our passionate encounters. The thought made me smile and squirm, recollecting how possessive he could be. I sniffed the air, adding garlic to the mix and letting the rich scent fill the room.
My memories were abruptly interrupted by the shrill ring of my phone.
I wiped my hands on a dish towel and grabbed it from the counter, expecting to see Tom's name lighting up the screen.
Instead, Matt's face stared back at me.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." I declined the call and tossed my phone back onto the counter more forcefully than necessary. How often did I need to tell this man to leave me alone?
I enthusiastically attacked the carrots, channeling my annoyance into precise, aggressive chops. "I should change my number," I muttered, immediately dismissing the idea. Too much hassle. Too many accounts linked to it.
The onions had started caramelizing, filling my kitchen with their sweet aroma. I added the carrots and some celery, creating a satisfying sizzle that almost drowned out my irritation. Almost.
My phone rang again.
"Nope. Not dealing with this." I kept stirring, purposefully ignoring the persistent buzzing. It was probably Matt again, drunk-dialing me with another round of 'baby, I'm so sorry' or 'it didn't mean anything.'
I snorted at the thought. The last time he'd called, he'd actually tried to convince me that Victoria had tripped and fallen onto his dick. Multiple times. Over several months.
"What is this, a porn script?" I asked my simmering pot of vegetables, which bubbled sympathetically in response.
The ringing finally stopped, and I allowed myself a small victory dance while adding garlic to the pan. At least my dinner wouldn't ghost me or sleep with someone else behind my back. Knowing my luck lately, the smoke alarm would probably start having an affair with the microwave.
I giggled at my ridiculous thought, grateful that Tom wasn't here to witness me talking to kitchen appliances and making bad jokes about their potential love lives. Then again, he'd probably join in, the adorable dork.
Still grinning at my kitchen comedy routine, I stirred the pot one final time and turned off the heat. The smell of perfectly cooked vegetables and herbs filled my apartment, making my stomach growl in anticipation.
I wiped my hands on a dish towel and grabbed my phone to check the time. My heart skipped when I saw Tom's name among the missed calls, not Matt's desperate attempts after all.
"Well, now I feel like an idiot," I muttered, swiping through the notifications. Three missed calls from Tom in the last twenty minutes.
I was about to hit the call-back button when my doorbell chimed. The sound made me jump, and I nearly dropped my phone into the pot of food.
"Coming!" I called out, quickly checking my reflection in the microwave door. My hair was a mess from cooking, and a splash of sauce was on my cheek. Great. Super attractive.
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