Chapter 1 - The Critic
Emma Swan couldn't help but curse softly as her head inadvertently collided with the wall. "Uh... Fuck!" she exclaimed, her frustration evident. "Killian, stop! Stop…"
Killian Jones, the charismatic chef and host of the hit Food Channel show, "Pressure Cooker," lifted his head from where he had it buried in Emma's neck. He had harbored a burning desire for the Million Dollar Critic ever since she graced his restaurant with her presence. She possessed not only a discerning palate but also a body that could rival any Hollywood starlet. And now, here she was, in his arms.
"What is it, luv?" Killian inquired, his voice a husky whisper.
"My leg is cramping up," the Critic replied with a hint of frustration. "Just… move us to the couch."
Killian obliged, gently lifting Emma from her perch on the wall molding and carrying her to the plush leather couch across the room. Their fiery attraction had been simmering for weeks, but she had always held back. Killian had feared this would be another one of those moments, but it appeared fate was on his side. Emma's skirt was hiked up around her waist, her panties strewn across the room, and she showed no signs of stopping him now.
Returning to her, Killian resumed nibbling at her neck, mindful not to leave any visible marks. They were due on set of "Pressure Cooker" at any moment, but the intoxicating desire between them couldn't wait.
"Oh, Emma," Killian murmured, his lips brushing against her skin.
Emma couldn't help but giggle at the sound of her name rolling off his accented tongue. His rugged charm had her enthralled, but there was something about him that had made her cautious. Yet, right now, caution was the last thing on her mind. It had been far too long since she'd been with anyone, and she had an itch that begged to be scratched. She rolled her hips, inviting him further into her world.
Killian moved to position himself between her legs, poised to explore the depths of her desire. But just as he was about to breach her inner sanctum, a knock at the door shattered the moment.
"Five minutes!" the stage manager's voice rang out from the other side of the door. Time froze, and Emma's senses snapped back into focus.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Killian groaned, dropping his head onto the cushion Emma had just vacated.
Emma blushed, her laughter tinkling like a melodic chime. "There's always tonight, Killian," she teased, turning to the mirror to fix her tousled hair.
Killian sighed, his fingers deftly adjusting his disheveled attire. "Do you promise?" he asked, picking up Emma's discarded undergarments. With a playful grin, he took in their scent and tucked them into the pocket of his suit.
Emma pursed her lips, turning to face him with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I look forward to it," she replied as the dressing room door swung open.
"We're ready," the stage manager announced.
"Okay," Emma said with a sly smile, heading out of the dressing room, leaving behind a frustrated but eager Killian.