Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
“Um. Draven,” I say, distracting by what I see up ahead.
His pushes up my T-shirt to expose my breasts with a shaky exhalation, his open mouth latches onto my nipple, worrying my flesh into a pink pebble.
“Draven,” I breath, fighting off the inundation of lust. “All these people…they’re trying to get into Tartine! There’s a line out the door!”
His warm mouth gradually leaves me, and he pulls my shirt back into place. “What?” I sit back down in the passenger seat, still trying to comprehend the scene I’ve just witnessed. “People are literally fist-fighting and tackling each other to get through the door of the restaurant. Do you have some kind of…special promotion today?”
Slowly, Draven’s eyes have started to darken, his chest rising and falling. “Oh fuck.”
“What?”
“Pierre…” He wheels the car into the closest parking lot, his tires squealing as he pulls into a spot. “He must have served the new sauce to the lunch crowd.”
Understanding dawns. “Our sauce?” I whisper. “The one y-you seasoned…”
“With that perfect mouth?” He drags five harried fingers through his hair. “Yeah. That one. Son of a bitch.”
Draven lunges out of the car, circling around to my side. He wrenches open my door and pulls me out, pressing me between his body and the vehicle. “We can’t let anyone know why that sauce is so good, Claire.” He points to the clogged intersection. “Or those people won’t be trying to beat down the door of the restaurant. They’ll be fighting tooth and nail for a chance to drink from the tap. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
A shiver carries down my spine. “They’ll…want me.”
“I’m not going to let that happen,” he says fervently, his mouth capturing mine in a hard kiss. One that leaves his eyes glazed. Because of my taste. “No one is ever going to touch you, except for me. That’s why we need to keep the secret.”
He’s right.
The idea of these people turning their aggression on me is horrifying.
“Don’t worry,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck, my heart soaring when he picks me up in a cherishing bear hug, rocking me side to side. “No one will find out.”
When we walk through the rear entrance of Tartine five minutes later, we both stop in our tracks. The sound of people moaning is muffled, but there is no mistaking what it is. Draven looks down at me and all I can do is blink in dismay. What is going on?
Keeping my hand locked tightly inside of his, Draven pulls me into the kitchen where, sure enough, the infamous pot of sauce bubbles on the stove, one of the line cooks ladling it over two plates of waiting roast chicken, visibly stressed by the row of tickets pinned to the metal rack overhead. His fellow kitchen staff appear stunned, to say the least, but they rush to keep up with the overflowing restaurant
We pause at the swinging doors that lead into the dining room, before Draven finally pushes open the left door a few inches.
My jaw drops to the floor.
What I’m seeing simply cannot be real.
There is an…orgy taking place in the dining room.
Diners are openly having sex at their tables. At least five different women are bent over the salt and pepper shakers, clutching the white cloths in their hands while men deliver frantic drives from behind. A foursome of diners make scandalous use of a booth, discarded clothes flying in every direction. Other diners watch in a mixture of shock, lust, fascination.
The waitress is sitting on the busboy’s face, writhing.
Right there on the floor.
Her tray? Forgotten.
“Didn’t I tell you, Claire, that you’re an aphrodisiac?” Draven says for my ears alone. When I glance up at him, his upper lip is shiny with perspiration and he’s staring at my mouth. “Even with all this commotion, I can’t think of anything but licking your tight little pussy.”
“Draven,” I say, my skin dotting with goosebumps. “All of this really c-can’t be because of me, can it?”
“It is. And after a night of experiencing you, I’m not even remotely surprised.” Cursing, he swipes the sweat from his upper lip. “Jesus Christ. I need to get the situation under control, so I can get through this day and take you back to bed.” He takes my hand and brings it to his erection, cupping my hand around the intense stiffness. “You’re going to have me like this all day, little girl. When I get you home…”
My pulse thrums with excitement. “What?”
A shudder goes through his big frame. “Let’s just say you’re going to regain consciousness in the bathtub again.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, owning my role.
Embodying it…until it no longer feels like a role.
It’s just me.
I’m still marveling over the new sense of rightness when Pierre appears in front of us, his face a mask of glee. “Would you look at this? The public is beating the door down!”