Free Naked Treats by Pepper Anthony

Chapter One
     
    Zack Cranston’s new favorite thing was breakfast with
Rose. On the first and third Sunday of every month she would arrive
at dawn, let herself in using the key he’d given her, and quietly
go to work in his kitchen. By the time he got up at ten or so,
she’d have concocted a culinary masterpiece for him. Eggs Benedict
or crepes or seafood omelets with fresh fruit and wonderful, exotic
coffee.
    And she would serve it to him naked.
    Naked!
    Well, there was the tiny lace apron she wore
tied at her slender waist, but that hardly counted since he could
see right through it.
    While he ate she would sit across from him at the
glass-topped table by the window sipping her coffee and nibbling
dry toast. The fact that she often assumed a somewhat relaxed
position, her thighs parted, was a distraction to be sure. And
after the third or fourth Sunday he’d formed an indelible
association between the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and glimpses
of her neatly trimmed pussy. That association had caused him
discomfort more than once in client meetings.
    The fact that she was so relaxed with her nakedness,
which he’d loved at first, had lately begun to make him slightly
uneasy. What if someone in a neighboring building glanced across?
Since he paid for her culinary services shouldn’t he be the only
one privy to the view of her voluptuous breasts and breathtaking
behind?
    He had that thought this morning as he watched her at
the stove, where she was poaching eggs and making Hollandaise
sauce. He’d gotten up unusually early using the excuse of a
hangover, but he really craved watching her work. The open floor
plan of the condo gave him an almost unobstructed view, and oh, he
was being richly rewarded this morning for his loss of sleep.
    Rose’s body wasn’t perfect, but she was healthy and
young and her curves were lush and utterly feminine. As she stirred
the sauce her whole body moved along with the circular motion of
the wooden spoon. Her breasts bobbed and swayed, her hips
undulated, her long, sable hair swung like a satin curtain. She was
really something to see.
    Zack swallowed hard and popped a wedge of grapefruit
into his mouth.
    “Marry me, Rose,” he said without thinking, his eyes
glued to her dusky nipples.
    As soon as he heard the words escape his mouth a
flash of panic went through him. Why had he said such a thing? He
didn’t even know her.
    What if she said yes just to mess with him?
    But Rose simply turned and smiled at him, her dark
lashes sweeping her cheeks.
    “Eat your fruit, Mr. Cranston,” she said primly, “the
sauce is almost ready.”
    A rush of relief washed the panic away. She hadn’t
taken him seriously. Thank God. He wasn’t a marrying man and never
would be. He didn’t know where that foolish impulse had come
from.
    In a moment she came to the table with a big white
platter laden with food. Toast points smothered in the golden
sauce, asparagus spears, the perfect eggs, and several disks of
lean, crusty ham. As she leaned down to set the plate before him,
the tip of one breast dipped into the Hollandaise.
    “Ouch.” She hopped back, her nipple now decorated
with a creamy yellow smear. “That’s hot.” But she laughed, looking
down at herself with amusement.
    The sight of the yellow smear instantly made him hard
beneath his bathrobe. All he could think about was licking the
sauce away. In his imagination he pulled her up close, putting his
hands on her hips and guiding her to him, parking her firmly
between his thighs. Then he lifted his lips and sucked her nipple
clean.
    “Ahhh,” the imaginary Rose moaned, her hands finding
their way into his hair, fingernails raking his scalp. “That feels
so good.”
    When she tugged that nipple free and offered him the
other one, he didn’t quibble. He licked and kissed that one too,
then drew it deep into his mouth, reveling in her sweet flavor and
firmness. She had great breasts, soft and round and just the right
size. Before he