Chapter 1: The Muffin, The Secret, The Appetite
The fluorescent lights of the office kitchen buzzed like trapped flies, casting a sickly glow over the counter where Leana stood. A triple-chocolate muffin—still steaming from the microwave—was clutched in her fingers, its sugary scent mingling with the stale coffee stench. Peter pretended to refill his water bottle, but his eyes were locked onto the way her plump lips parted before taking the first bite.
She moaned softly as the chocolate melted on her tongue, a sound that sent an unexpected jolt straight to Peter’s groin. He swallowed hard, gripping the water bottle tighter as she licked a smear of frosting from her thumb, her dark eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.
"Seriously, you're going to town on that thing," Peter blurted, then immediately wanted to kick himself.
Leana laughed, a rich, throaty sound that vibrated through him. "Stress eating," she admitted, taking another slow, deliberate bite. "This job is already killing me." A crumb clung to the corner of her mouth, and Peter fought the urge to brush it away with his thumb. "Want some?" she teased, holding the muffin out. "There's enough sugar in here to fuel a small car."
He shook his head, mesmerized by the way her lips wrapped around the pastry. "I'm good. Just admiring your dedication."
Her eyebrow arched, a smirk playing on her glossy lips. "Dedication to chocolate? Guilty as charged." She dragged her tongue along her bottom lip, catching a stray fleck of cocoa, and Peter’s cock twitched in his slacks.
Fuck.
He turned abruptly to the water cooler, fumbling with the dispenser as heat crawled up his neck. What the hell was wrong with him? Since when did watching a woman eat turn him on?
Leana crumpled the empty wrapper, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "Okay, maybe I overdid it," she admitted, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "I swear, I had a salad for lunch."
Peter leaned against the counter, his gaze dropping to the soft curve of her hips where her skirt hugged just a little too snug. "Salad?" He smirked. "I don’t believe it."
"Hey!" She swatted at him, but her grin was playful. "I have to maintain this svelte figure somehow." Her hand drifted to her stomach, fingers pressing lightly into the softness there, and for a second, her confidence wavered.
Peter’s chest tightened. He wanted to tell her she was gorgeous—that the way her body curved, the hint of softness at her waist, drove him fucking wild. But the words stuck in his throat, replaced by something safer. "Well, whatever you're doing, it's working."
Leana’s smile returned, brighter this time, and she punched his arm lightly. "You’re not so bad yourself, newbie."
As she walked away, Peter’s eyes followed the hypnotic sway of her hips, the way her ass pressed against the fabric of her skirt with every step. His mind conjured images of her bent over the break room table, chocolate smeared on her lips as he fucked her from behind, her soft body jiggling with every thrust.
Jesus Christ.
He shook himself, forcing his gaze away, but the fantasy lingered. The trash can held the crumpled evidence of her indulgence, and as he stared at it, he wondered what she’d eat next—how much sweeter, how much fuller, she could get.
And God help him, he want
to find out.
He needed to see it.
The afternoon dragged, Peter's focus shattered by the memory of Leana's lips wrapped around that muffin. Every time she shifted at her desk, the whisper of fabric over her curves sent fresh heat pooling in his gut.
At 3pm, the office dimmed as storm clouds swallowed the sun. Rain pattered against the windows, a rhythmic backdrop to the clatter of keyboards. Leana stretched, her blouse riding up to reveal a sliver of soft skin. Peter's fingers twitched with the need to trace that warm expanse, to dig into yielding flesh.
"Fuck this weather," she muttered, rummaging through her drawer. "I need a pick-me-up."
Peter watched, pulse hammering, as she pulled out a family-sized bag of peanut M&Ms. The crinkling wrapper sounded obscenely loud in the quiet office.
"You're going to eat all those?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them.
Leana froze, color rising in her cheeks. "I—" Her fingers tightened around the bag. "I share sometimes."
He should've backed off. Instead, he leaned closer, catching the scent of chocolate and her vanilla perfume. "I bet you don't."
Her dark eyes flicked up, startled. Then something shifted—a challenge. She tore the bag open with her teeth. "Watch me."
The first M&M disappeared between her lips. Then another. And another. Peter's throat went dry as her tongue darted out to catch a stray blue candy clinging to her bottom lip.
"Problem?" she asked around a mouthful, crunching deliberately.
Peter's cock throbbed. "No." His voice came out rough. "No problem at all."
Leana smirked, popping three more candies at once. Her cheeks bulged adorably as she chewed, a faint chocolate smear at the corner of her mouth. Peter imagined licking it clean, tasting sugar and her.
The rain intensified, drumming against the glass like the frantic beat of his heart. Leana's fingers dipped into the bag again, emerging with a fistful of candy.
"Open," she murmured.
Peter obeyed without thinking. Leana's fingers brushed his lips as she fed him, the sweet crunch loud in his ears. When her thumb lingered, tracing his lower lip, electricity shot down his spine.
The office door creaked. They sprang apart just as Karen from accounting walked by, oblivious.
Leana's breathing was uneven, her pupils blown wide. The nearly empty bag crinkled in her grip.
Peter leaned in, voice low. "My place. After work."
She hesitated, then nodded, the last M&M disappearing between her teeth.
The clock couldn't move fast enough.
At 5:01pm, they were in the elevator, Leana's thigh pressing against his. The mirrored walls reflected her flushed face, the way her tongue kept darting out to wet her lips.
Peter crowded her against the wall, hands bracketing her hips. "You have no idea what you do to me," he growled.
Leana's breath hitched as his knee slid between her thighs. "Show me."
The elevator dinged. They barely made it through his apartment door before clothes started flying. Leana's blouse gaped open, revealing creamy cleavage straining against her bra. Peter palmed one heavy breast, groaning at the softness.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he muttered, sucking a bruise into her neck.
Leana gasped, arching into him. "More."
He backed her toward the kitchen, hands roaming every delicious curve. When her ass hit the counter, Peter dropped to his knees.
"Peter—"
He yanked her skirt up, burying his face between her thighs. Leana's moan was music as he licked into her, her taste better than any candy. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as she ground against his tongue.
"Don't stop," she begged, hips jerking.
Peter sucked her clit, two fingers pumping inside her. Leana came with a cry, her thighs clamping around his head.
He stood, wiping his mouth. "That's just the start."
Leana's eyes darkened with hunger—for him, for more. Peter knew this was only the beginning.
The trash can held the crumpled evidence of her indulgence, and as he stared at it, he wondered what she’d eat next—how much sweeter, how much fuller, she could get.
And God help him, he wanted to find out.
He needed to see it.