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)
“I know how to cook,” she says primly, tossing her blonde hair back. “I cooked for my whole family for years.”
A weight turns over in my chest. “Then I’ll teach you how to cook for pleasure.”
Her eyes go gentle with affection. “If you give me any more pleasure, I won’t be able to stand it,” she whispers, tightening her legs around me, her breath hitching when she feels how fat she’s made my dick. “The whole kitchen staff are being nice to me now.”
Jealousy ticks in my throat. “Why?”
“Because I made the boss nice. You haven’t called anyone a pissant all day.”
She presses her forehead to mine and laughs, causing my chest to flood with emotion. “Christ, I’m so in love with you, Claire.”
“I’m so in love with you, too, Draven.” She kisses me softly. “That’s why I want to help you make some more sauce.”
I’m already shaking my head. Up until now, I didn’t realize how much it was killing me to send the essence of my girl out to strangers. “We’re not making anymore. Every part of you is mine and I’m not selling.”
“You can’t look at it like that.”
“Yes, I can,” I half-shout, agonized.
“No.” She holds the sides of my head. “Besides, it’s both of us that create the magic. You’re not sending me out to strangers, you’re sending us out. Me wrapped in you.”
A furrow etches itself between my brows. “How so?”
“Because I only taste so good because you kiss me,” she whispers, stroking her fingers through my hair. “I only taste so good between my legs because you make me wet. It comes from both of us.”
“It’s a good argument, I’ll give you that,” I say, smiling against her pouty mouth. “But I know when I’m being maneuvered.”
“Think of what we could do with our secret.” She rubs our lips together. “If you ever wanted to move on from Tartine…and the guilt you can’t seem to escape here…people will follow you.” She teases the seam of my mouth with the tongue, rubbing her cunt against my arousal at the same time. “We make magic, Daddy. We should use it.”
“Claire…” I say, hoarsely, shuddering. Overwhelmed by lust and love and everything in between. “Thank God, I found you.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” she whispers, her eyes wet. Heavy with feeling.
For me.
How did I get so lucky?
Slowly, her legs drop from around my waist, but she remains pressed against me on her tiptoes. “Make a new sauce. I’ll meet you in the pantry when it’s time for the final touch.”
She saunters away, those fuckable ass cheeks twitching on her way back to the sink.
Damn, I can still feel those smooth buns sliding up and back against my stomach, the way they did early this morning. This day cannot end soon enough.
I put the sauce together faster than I ever have in my life. I melt butter and add herbs, combining it all with chicken stock and red wine. Mushrooms, onions, garlic. All the while, sweat is building inside of my chef’s coat, at the edge of my cap. By the time the sauce has begun simmering, I’m laboring to breathe. Turning away from the stove, I meet Claire’s eyes on my way to the pantry, closing myself inside and beginning to pace.
Claire enters behind me a few seconds later, closing the door behind her. I lunge for my obsession with a desperate moan, our mouths fusing while I yank her skirt up to her hips, scrubbing the heel of my hand down the mound of her pussy. Gripping and fondling her soft heat. The rush of flavor from her mouth nearly knocks me over, but somehow, I remain coherent. Coherent enough not to fuck her up against the shelves laden with goods. I can’t do that here, as much as I need it.
“Put your big fingers in my pussy, Daddy,” she purrs, biting her lip. “Take some juice. After all, you’re the one who makes it.”
Horny as a bull, her baby talk filling my head and rearranging what I thought I knew about myself, I rip her panties down and shove my middle and index fingers into her wet cunt, spend leaking from the tip of my cock when I find her drenched as hell. “Tell me you’re soaked because you want my sperm. Tell me you’re soaked for breeding.”
Wide-eyed, she searches my face. “W-what’s that?”
At first, I think she can’t possibly mean the question. She’s playing her part. But when I realize she’s being authentic, I’m awed by her genuine innocence. And I vow to protect it. From everyone but me. “It means I want to get you pregnant,” I explain, my composure unraveling. “It means I want to pump my come into this little hole and watch your belly swell for nine months.”
“Oh,” she breathes, beginning to tremble. In a good way. With passion that I can see, feel, taste. “You’re going to make me a wife and a mother in one day?”