The kitchen was warm, the aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air as I stirred the sauce on the stove. My fingers gripped the wooden spoon, the rhythmic motion almost meditative, but my mind was elsewhere. The soft clink of utensils, the gentle hum of the fridge, the rhythmic sound of his knife against the cutting board—it all faded into the background the moment I felt him step closer. His body heat brushed against my back, and I didn’t need to turn around to know he was staring at me.“Smells good,” he murmured, his voice low and thick, his breath warm against my neck. I could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, and it sent a shiver down my spine.I tilted my head slightly, letting him know I was aware of his presence, but I didn’t stop stirring. “Dinner’s not ready yet,” I said, my voice steady, though my heart was pounding. I could feel the dampness between my thighs, the ache building with every second he stood so close.“I’m not hungry for dinner,” he replied, his voice rougher now, his hands sliding around my waist. His fingers teased the hem of my apron, brushing against the bare skin of my hips. I felt his hardness press against me, and I bit my lip to stifle a moan.“You’re going to have to be patient,” I said, my voice cool despite the heat pooling in my core. I turned the stove off and set the spoon aside, turning to face him. His eyes were dark, hungry, and I could see the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. I tilted my chin up, meeting his gaze. “You’re not in charge here.”He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and I could see the struggle in his eyes. He wanted to take control, to pin me against the counter and have his way. But I wasn’t going to let him. Not yet.I reached out, my fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt. “You want me, don’t you?” I asked, my voice soft but commanding. His breath faltered, and he nodded, his hands gripping my hips tighter.“Good,” I whispered, leaning in closer, my lips brushing against his ear. “But you’re going to wait until I say so.”I stepped back, and he let out a low groan, his hands falling to his sides. I could see the strain in his muscles, the way he was fighting to keep himself in check. I smiled, feeling a thrill of power rush through me. I turned back to the counter, my hips swaying deliberately as I reached for the wine bottle. I poured a glass, taking a slow sip, my eyes never leaving his.“Are you going to behave?” I asked, my voice teasing. He nodded again, his jaw clenched tight. I set the glass down and walked over to him, my fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his skin warm under my touch. I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone, and he shuddered.“Good boy,” I murmured, my hands sliding down to his belt. I unbuckled it slowly, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops loud in the quiet kitchen. I undid his pants, pushing them down just enough to free his cock. It was hard, throbbing, and I wrapped my fingers around it, feeling the heat of him against my palm.“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips bucking instinctively, but I tightened my grip, stopping him.“I said wait,” I reminded him, my voice firm. He groaned, his hands balling into fists at his sides. I gave him a slow stroke, watching his face as he struggled to control himself. His breath was ragged, his eyes locked on mine, and I could see the desperation in them.I stepped back, letting go of him, and he choked out a protest. I ignored him, turning to the counter and bending over slightly, my ass pressing against his cock. I looked over my shoulder, meeting his gaze. “You want to fuck me, don’t you?”“Yes,” he growled, his voice almost a plea. I smiled, reaching back to pull my panties aside, exposing myself to him. I could feel the wetness between my thighs, the slickness that betrayed just how much I wanted him.“Then do it,” I said, my voice low and commanding. He didn’t need to be told twice. He gripped my hips, positioning himself, and thrust into me with a groan. The feeling of him filling me was electric, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.He started to move, his thrusts hard and deep, and I could feel the force of his desire in every stroke. But I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. I reached back, my hand gripping his forearm, and I pulled him closer, slowing his pace.“Not yet,” I said, my voice firm despite the way my body was trembling. He groaned, his hips stuttering, but he obeyed, slowing down to match the rhythm I set. I could feel his frustration, the way he was holding back, and it only made me want him more.I arched my back, pushing my ass against him, and he let out a low growl, his hands gripping my hips tighter. His thrusts became more deliberate, each one hitting just the right spot, and I could feel the pleasure building inside me. But I wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.“Faster,” I whispered, and he obeyed instantly, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. I could feel the heat spreading through my body, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. But I wasn’t going to let him finish. Not yet.“Stop,” I commanded, and he froze, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I could feel him throbbing inside me, and I knew he was close. But I wasn’t ready to let him cum. I turned to face him, my fingers trailing down his chest. “You’re going to wait until I say so.”He groaned, his forehead resting against mine. “Please,” he begged, his voice strained.I smiled, my fingers brushing against his lips. “Soon,” I promised, my voice soft but commanding. “But not yet.”

The kitchen was warm, the aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air as I stirred the sauce on the stove. My fingers gripped the wooden spoon, the rhythmic motion almost meditative, but my mind was elsewhere. The soft clink of utensils, the gentle hum of the fridge, the rhythmic sound of his knife against the cutting board—it all faded into the background the moment I felt him step closer. His body heat brushed against my back, and I didn’t need to turn around to know he was staring at me.

“Smells good,” he murmured, his voice low and thick, his breath warm against my neck. I could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

I tilted my head slightly, letting him know I was aware of his presence, but I didn’t stop stirring. “Dinner’s not ready yet,” I said, my voice steady, though my heart was pounding. I could feel the dampness between my thighs, the ache building with every second he stood so close.

“I’m not hungry for dinner,” he replied, his voice rougher now, his hands sliding around my waist. His fingers teased the hem of my apron, brushing against the bare skin of my hips. I felt his hardness press against me, and I bit my lip to stifle a moan.

“You’re going to have to be patient,” I said, my voice cool despite the heat pooling in my core. I turned the stove off and set the spoon aside, turning to face him. His eyes were dark, hungry, and I could see the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. I tilted my chin up, meeting his gaze. “You’re not in charge here.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and I could see the struggle in his eyes. He wanted to take control, to pin me against the counter and have his way. But I wasn’t going to let him. Not yet.

I reached out, my fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt. “You want me, don’t you?” I asked, my voice soft but commanding. His breath faltered, and he nodded, his hands gripping my hips tighter.

“Good,” I whispered, leaning in closer, my lips brushing against his ear. “But you’re going to wait until I say so.”

I stepped back, and he let out a low groan, his hands falling to his sides. I could see the strain in his muscles, the way he was fighting to keep himself in check. I smiled, feeling a thrill of power rush through me. I turned back to the counter, my hips swaying deliberately as I reached for the wine bottle. I poured a glass, taking a slow sip, my eyes never leaving his.

“Are you going to behave?” I asked, my voice teasing. He nodded again, his jaw clenched tight. I set the glass down and walked over to him, my fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his skin warm under my touch. I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone, and he shuddered.

“Good boy,” I murmured, my hands sliding down to his belt. I unbuckled it slowly, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops loud in the quiet kitchen. I undid his pants, pushing them down just enough to free his cock. It was hard, throbbing, and I wrapped my fingers around it, feeling the heat of him against my palm.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips bucking instinctively, but I tightened my grip, stopping him.

“I said _wait_,” I reminded him, my voice firm. He groaned, his hands balling into fists at his sides. I gave him a slow stroke, watching his face as he struggled to control himself. His breath was ragged, his eyes locked on mine, and I could see the desperation in them.

I stepped back, letting go of him, and he choked out a protest. I ignored him, turning to the counter and bending over slightly, my ass pressing against his cock. I looked over my shoulder, meeting his gaze. “You want to fuck me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he growled, his voice almost a plea. I smiled, reaching back to pull my panties aside, exposing myself to him. I could feel the wetness between my thighs, the slickness that betrayed just how much I wanted him.

“Then do it,” I said, my voice low and commanding. He didn’t need to be told twice. He gripped my hips, positioning himself, and thrust into me with a groan. The feeling of him filling me was electric, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

He started to move, his thrusts hard and deep, and I could feel the force of his desire in every stroke. But I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. I reached back, my hand gripping his forearm, and I pulled him closer, slowing his pace.

“__Not yet__,” I said, my voice firm despite the way my body was trembling. He groaned, his hips stuttering, but he obeyed, slowing down to match the rhythm I set. I could feel his frustration, the way he was holding back, and it only made me want him more.

I arched my back, pushing my ass against him, and he let out a low growl, his hands gripping my hips tighter. His thrusts became more deliberate, each one hitting just the right spot, and I could feel the pleasure building inside me. But I wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.

“Faster,” I whispered, and he obeyed instantly, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. I could feel the heat spreading through my body, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. But I wasn’t going to let him finish. Not yet.

“Stop,” I commanded, and he froze, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I could feel him throbbing inside me, and I knew he was close. But I wasn’t ready to let him cum. I turned to face him, my fingers trailing down his chest. “You’re going to wait until I say so.”

He groaned, his forehead resting against mine. “Please,” he begged, his voice strained.

I smiled, my fingers brushing against his lips. “Soon,” I promised, my voice soft but commanding. “But not yet.”

A woman takes control in the kitchen, teasing and denying her eager partner as she cooks dinner, exploring themes of gentle femdom and orgasm teasing in a creampie scenario. She uses her power to keep him on edge, delaying his release until she decides he's earned it, all while preparing their meal.

I made him fuck me in my kitchen before dinner was ready

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