A Lesson in Lust

****This is my submission for the Literotica 2022 Valentine's Day Story Contest. Happy reading!****

To Lillian, Valentine's Day was just another day on the calendar. It wasn't that she was against it. It just seemed like an expensive holiday there for the soul purpose to make money off people's desperation to love and be loved. When she was single - like now - it was another time for people to feel sorry for her for being alone.

Because she didn't pay attention to the date, she signed up for the vegetarian cooking class for two, on February 14th. When she shoved open the door that blustery night, a good twelve minutes before the class started, she expected to be one of the first people there. Who took a cooking class on Valentine's Day?

Couples, she realized, looking around. Five cooking stations full of couples very much in love and/or lust. They went silent at her solo appearance.

Damn, Derek Andrews, the celebrity chef teaching the class. She got distracted by his forearms -- firm, muscled, just the right amount of hair -- in the online brochure and failed to notice she would be taking a couple's cooking class on Valentine's Day.

The celebrity chef -- a hometown hero who won a prestigious cooking competition -- and class instructor, pushed open the door just as Lillian settled in place. She tucked her braid over her shoulder, shoved her glasses into place, and stared toward the front, ready to learn.

That he was even handsomer in person, should have been unfair. But, if she was going to be subjected to pitying stares from the couples around her, at least she could enjoy the view. And Derek Andrews, smoky grey eyes, salt and pepper hair, and those fucking forearms -- honestly, he shouldn't be allowed to have them on display -- it had to be a code violation. People must burn themselves getting distracted by his muscles.

Her silent daydream distracted her just long enough she didn't notice the chef pause at the front of the room and zero in on her.

Derek Andrews buttoned the top of his chef's coat and surveyed the class. Each of the six stations had a couple, leaning into each other, hands entwined, love just dripping from them, except one in the back.

She had long blonde hair pulled back in a simple braid, horn-rimmed glasses, and dimples. And her partner was late.

Irritated, Derek marched to the back of the classroom. People didn't show up late to his kitchen.

The woman blinked at him when he stopped in front of her. The rest of the class followed his progress, silent and watchful.

"Your partner is late."

Despite the blush flaming her cheeks, she met his angry gaze head on. When she opened her mouth the speak -- he hated when people made excuses for others -- he stopped her with a curt, "Don't let them interrupt my class when they get here."

Derek had no tolerance for people who didn't respect other people's time. He did two classes a night, he didn't have time for tardiness. Or rather, his sister, who ran the business end of the school and helped Derek cash in on his celebrity, didn't have time for it.

As he turned away, she said, "I'm here by myself."

Because everyone was already watching her, she had to announce it to the entire class. Shame flooded through him as she met his gaze, her brown eyes, richer than a veal demi-glace, steady and unblinking.

The rest of the class started murmuring, and Lillian fought back the urge to be embarrassed by the situation. She was not ashamed. She didn't care what these random strangers thought about her. And she certainly did not care about an arrogant chef who had the audacity to assume she would be with someone who showed up late for a class.

Especially since he had clearly advertised tardiness was unacceptable in his kitchen.

That powerful authority, so clearly stated in black and white, did not send a bolt of lust down her spine when she read it. Honestly, she couldn't assume just because he didn't tolerate tardiness in his kitchen he demanded more from people in the bedroom.

It was her damn imagination's fault. And here she was blushing because she had pictured this man naked, and he wanted her to feel bad for an imagined transgression.

His eyes, surrounded by impossibly thick lashes, traced the line of Lillian's face, down her neck, to her cleavage -- she had excellent tits, who was she to not share that gift with the world -- where they paused before snapping back up to her face.

Somehow in the short perusal, he figured her out. Instead of looking at her with pity -- the way the brunette with the perfect messy bun was -- he watched her with interest and a flare of desire. He knew she was there, not because someone dumped her and she couldn't get a refund, but because she wanted to be there alone.

Derek murmured, low and gravelly, "My apologies for assuming that."

He wasn't sorry she was alone. With a quick glance at his roster, he found the single name. Lillian. Then he turned back to the class and began his lesson.

While Derek chopped, he moved slowly so his students could keep up. When he explained how to hold produce so you didn't chop off your fingers, he did it kindly.

He had a way of cradling an onion in his big, solid hands so delicately, that Lillian imagined he treated everything in his life with that gentle care.

Derek talked about Italy as he chopped, the recipe coming from one of his friends who lived there. He could talk about cooking for hours. He liked sharing his knowledge with people. These two classes of the year, thank god the first one was done, were his least favorite. Normally, the students in the Valentine's couples' classes were too wrapped up in each other to notice him. He couldn't blame them. They wanted to make some sexy food then go home and fuck.

Sounded like a good time to him.

He glanced to the back of the room, eyes drawn to Lillian. She had paused in chopping her eggplant to watch him work. A small smile played at her lips. Steam from her stove had flushed her cheeks and made the hairs around her face curl wildly.

She started when she met his gaze, her cheeks flushing even brighter red.

Caught, Lillian dropped her gaze and started chopping her own eggplant. She nicked the tiniest edge of her knuckle and sucked in her breath.

Suddenly, Derek was there, those hands that distracted her, gripping and turning her own hand over for examination. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off his chest.

She couldn't look up from their hands, how small and delicate hers looked cupped in his. He had the most extraordinary hands, with tiny scars showing years of knife nicks, and traces of burns from hot pans and ovens. His hands revealed part of his history.

And he was holding her hand in his, so delicately, while the index finger gently traced the edge of her finger down to her knuckle.

"What happened?" His voice was a deep rumble. He felt it, too, the heat between them, starting with their hands and zinging down Lillian's body straight to her pussy, which pulsed insistently.

'I was imagining your hands on my body' was not an appropriate answer. She couldn't tell this intense man, who took their knife skills so seriously, that she cut herself because she was having horny thoughts about his sexy hands.

And those fucking forearms, with their muscles, looking all corded and sexy as he chopped cabbage. Fucking cabbage. It was not a sexy vegetable, unless put in the hands of Derek Andrews.

She could not say any of that. Instead, Lillian sighed, "It's a tiny cut, no big deal."

She was right, of course, but Derek found he didn't like the idea of her getting hurt. Which was absurd. He himself had kitchen scars all over his hands, the remnants of burns on his forearms. Battle wounds of a chef.

He wanted to take care of it. Gently wash the wound. Suck the tips of her other fingers into his mouth and gently bite down.

Derek met her eyes and Lillian felt a jolt of lust. He hissed, so softly she might have missed it, his body moving infinitesimally closer to hers, the heat from him surrounding her.

He smelled like herbs, and soap, and the deep earthy smell of man. She wanted to kiss the hollow at his throat where his pulse beat. Might have leaned in and sucked there if a voice hadn't asked, "Is the oil supposed to be smoking?"

Derek dropped her hand and jumped back. Quickly, he killed the heat at his wayward student's station. To Lillian he said, "Please wash your hand, I'll be back to help you."

The flustered student started to apologize. Derek stopped him with a gentle, "Try a lower temperature on your burner."

Then he joined Lillian at the sink where she patted her hands dry with paper towel. She smiled up at him, "It's not even bleeding anymore."

"We should bandage it up anyway."

"Oh, no, it's fine."

"It's the sanitary thing to do," he said at the same time.

Which was the least sexy thing he could think of, but it did give him an excuse to hold her hand again. She drew in a soft breath. He wanted to hear those soft breaths, the little hiccups and gasps he knew she would make, while he kissed her neck, sucked her --

"Oh," her soft sigh, made his cock, already semi-hard and looking for any excuse to party, throb. She knew. Somehow, the way she watched him with those deep, dark eyes, she felt the heat between them and knew he wanted her.

She wanted him just as much, she told him, leaning her body into him, his eyes once again falling to her lush tits, the shadows between them, oh god, he wanted to bury his face right there and suck --

Get ahold of yourself, Andrews! He gently wrapped her knuckle and handed her a rubber glove.

Her voice came out husky and soft, "Thank you."

He tried to pay attention to the rest of the class, the ones making eyes at each other, and laughing and kissing between chopping and stirring. He walked around and assisted where he could.

The class finished without anything else burning and the couples headed out to do what happy couples did on Valentine's day.

For some reason, Lillian found herself taking a little longer to pack her bag, washing her hands, until she and Derek were the last ones left.

She wanted the taciturn chef, wanted to kiss him, run her fingers through his salt and pepper hair, feel what it was like to have all that knowledge and laser focus, zeroed in on her.

"I'm sorry I assumed you were attending the class with someone." He spoke softly but clearly. Lillian liked the deep timbre of his voice.

"An apology isn't necessary. Obviously, I was the only one by myself."

"Is someone meeting you later?" Derek asked, before he could stop himself.

She paused in sliding her purse strap onto her shoulder. "No."

"Me either." He didn't want her to go. There were layers to this woman, and he wanted to spend hours getting to know each and every one of them. "I mean, no one's meeting me for anything."

And before he could let his nerves take over, he asked, "Would you like a glass of wine?"

She smiled, dimples flashing. "I'd like that." Then she stuck out her hand, "I'm Lillian."

"Derek. Nice to meet you."

The classroom was set up with a wine cooler for the sommelier classes. He pulled out a bottle of red, deftly opened it, and set it down to breathe. "So, Lillian, why did you take the class?"

"I wanted to learn how to cook something indulgent. And vegetarian friendly." Lillian leaned her hip against his stainless-steel workstation.

"We found there is a good market for meals catering toward certain dietary needs." Damnit, why did he have to sound like a brochure when he talked to her? Her tits, and nearness made him stupid with desire.

"We?"

"My sister and me. She does the business end. I cook."

"You're very good at it."

He had been written up in magazines all over the country. Had awards lined up on his office shelves. The way Lillian complimented him felt just as good as those. And significantly sexier. She put just enough inflection on good to have him thinking about other things he was good at. More than good at.

"I've had a lot of years of practice." When the wine was ready, he poured. "Happy Valentine's Day, Lillian."

"Happy Valentine's Day to you, Derek." She clinked her glass against his. After she took a small sip, savoring the rich flavors, she smiled up at him. "Maybe I'm reading this wrong, and if so, honestly, no hurt feelings, but if I'm not, well I decided months ago I was going to stop being afraid to try things. To do the things I want to do. To use my voice."

He watched her blush creep up her neck and flood her cheeks. But she went on, her voice strong and sure, "I'm very attracted to you and if the feeling is the same, I would very much like to..."

And there she faltered.

He wanted her to finish. Needed her to finish. He watched her mouth, the faintest hint of purple from the wine staining her lips.

While he watched, those lips, lush and full -- how he was going to enjoy tasting those lips -- formed the words he so desperately needed to hear, "I would very much like to fuck."

Derek grinned, wolfish and sure. "I'd very much like that, too."

He knew the outside door automatically locked behind exiting students and no one was in the building except the two of them.

Ever so patiently, as if they had all day, Derek took Lillian's wine glass and set it on one of the student stations. He put his down next to it.

With his stainless-steel prep table, clear, Derek moved, swift and sure, and pulled Lillian against him. He turned so the backs of her thighs hit the edge of the table. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, god, yes," Lillian sighed as his lips slip over her jaw and down her neck. He nipped at her collarbone and then gently, so slowly he could see her eyes fall closed, feel her soft breath across his lips, he kissed her wine-stained mouth.

She leaned into him, he mouth opening wider, pulling him to her. With just an easy hitch, he yanked her off her feet and dropped her ass onto the edge of the table. Lillian moaned and spread her legs, pulling him into her.

He pressed his throbbing cock against her and thanked all the gods for the thin fabric of leggings because holy shit, he could feel her hot, wet pussy and they were both dressed. She groaned when he rubbed against her and her legs came up around his waist, pulling him closer.

He ground against her for a second. Jesus, if he wasn't careful was going to come before he even got her panties off.

Derek kissed her deeply. She moaned and sucked his tongue into her mouth, grinding against him. He stepped back, still snug within her legs, but far enough away, he could gently nudge Lillian back until she lay spread out across his prep table, her legs hanging off the edge.

"Can I kiss you anywhere I want?" he asked, sliding his hands under her shirt.

Those rough calloused hands sent waves of longing through Lillian. She arched her back off the table, giving Derek the access needed to tug her shirt over her head.

He kissed his way up her stomach and sucked on her nipple through her bra. Lillian gasped and gripped his head, pulling him tighter, the pleasure an exquisite torture. He moved to her other nipple, sucking and nipping at it, until Lillian was gasping and begging for more.

"Lillian." The way he said it. The slight challenge there, that she hadn't answered his question. His voice was stern and sexy, and she whimpered and arched her hips toward him.

Derek gently removed her bra, tossing it away. He undid his chef's coat, and then did the super sexy thing men did, where he yanked at the back of his collar and tugged his shirt off over his head, throwing it away. Oh god, he had whorls of hair across his chest, and that furry line down his abdomen she so loved, the one directing her way toward a good time.

She wanted to lick that line and leaned up toward him to do just that. Sensing it, Derek pushed her back against the table. She propped herself up on her elbows and met his gaze, challenging him. "Kiss me anywhere you want."

God damn, it was the sexiest thing he had ever heard. He kissed her soft belly, then dropped to his knees at the end of the table.

Thankful for his height that brought his head and shoulders exactly where he needed to be, he tugged off her leggings and panties and then, sweet jesus, there she was, her pussy absolutely drenched.

He could smell her, and his mouth watered in anticipation. He was a chef, after all, and he recognized a true delicacy when he saw it.

He spread her apart with his thumbs and licked inside. Lillian's hips arched off the table, and she moaned. He did it again, licking into her, but ignoring her throbbing clit, except to blow a gentle stream of air on it. Lillian gasped and tried to pull him closer.

"Not yet," he chastised, spreading her even further apart. "Just wait."

"I need you," she moaned.

He kissed her soft inner thighs, and then, as Lillian's hips arched again, as he ever so slowly moved toward her, he pressed his tongue, firm and flat, against her clit.

She groaned and rocked against him. He sucked her clit into his mouth, sucked and licked at it, while sliding one finger ever so slowly inside her to his knuckle then all the way in. Above him,

Lillian met his gaze, intense with longing.

"More," she begged.

He gave it to her, adding another finger, sucking harder, his tongue flicking against her. He thrust his fingers in and out, matching the rise and fall of her hips, giving her more, giving her everything, sucking and licking and she was so close, he could feel all her muscles tensing. Her thighs locked around his head, holding him in place, and she came, her pussy throbbing and pulsing around his fingers.

He held himself still, a rock in the storm, while she trashed against him until she collapsed back against the table.

After a moment, she sat up and demanded, "More."

Fuck yes. He grinned and tugged her to him. She kissed him, moaning at the taste of herself on his tongue, how sexy it was knowing he had made her come with that mouth.

She kissed him, hard and fierce, then turned from him and leaned over the table. She gripped the sides and glanced over her shoulder.

He stripped out of his pants, his cock hard and throbbing, curved toward his stomach. She whimpered at the sight and despite her recent orgasm, her pussy tightened in need and anticipation.

He guided himself to her, his cock nudging at her. He slid one hand up her spine, to the braid at the base of her neck. Ever so gently, he looped it around his hand and tugged. "Do you like that, Lillian?"

Lillian hissed at the sweet bite of pain. And because it was Valentine's Day and she was indulging in all that was rich and decadent, she said exactly what she was feeling. "More."

His fingers tightened on her hair. As his cock slid inside her drenched pussy, he pulled just hard enough to make Lillian's head arch back. She cried out in pleasure, her sensitive pussy convulsing at the new intrusion.

Derek thrust inside her, his cock surrounded by her sweet, wet pussy. Oh, god she felt so good, so fucking hot and he she wanted more. He would give her more. He yanked her back against him, slamming into her. She arched back, meeting his thrust, grunting in pleasure. "Oh god, yes, fuck me, Derek. Fuck me just like that."

"You're so fucking wet, Lillian. Oh god, your pussy feels so good. I'm going to come so hard in you pussy. Fuck yes, you're so fucking hot."

"More," Lillian gasped. She gripped the table, giving herself leverage to arch back against him. "Fuck me harder!"

"Fuck yes!" Derek slammed into her, his orgasm building, until, there it was, he was coming, and oh fuck, she was coming, her pussy pulsing and throbbing around his cock and his orgasm went on and on, as Lillian's hips bucked beneath him, and she screamed his name.