He pushes off the frame, prowling toward me, predatory. “Not sanitary?” His voice drops to that gravelly register that turns my knees to water. “I’ve eaten your pussy, your ass, and your food, princess. I don’t give a fuck if you’re naked while youcook. Unless you’re saying you’re cooking for other people,” he adds, eyes narrowing.
“Not at the moment. But if you’re making a general rule, then—”
“No clothes.” The command lands like a gavel. “Other than an apron.”
The air between us crackles. I could argue, but the part of me that blooms under his attention wants to give him this, wants to give him anything he wants.
I maintain eye contact as I reach for the hem of my shirt. The fabric whispers over my skin, and I watch his pupils dilate as I pull it over my head. My leggings follow, pooling at my feet. I’m bare in my kitchen, goosebumps all over that have nothing to do with temperature.
“Apron,” I murmur, moving to the hook where my oversized work apron hangs.
“No.” His voice stops me mid-reach. “Something else.”
I find the vintage apron my nonna gave me, the one with delicate embroidery along the edges. It ties at the neck and waist, covering my front while leaving my entire back exposed. When I put it on, Vin’s sharp intake of breath is my reward.
“Better,” he growls.
I turn back to the chicken, hyper-aware of his gaze on every inch of my exposed skin. The kitchen suddenly feels smaller. I pick up the needle again, threading it through the raw meat with practiced precision.
“Tell me what you’re doing.” He’s directly behind me now, not touching but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him.
“I’m touching raw chicken.” My voice comes out breathier than I intend. “This is not something you want to mess with, Vin. It’s not safe to move to other parts of the kitchen or touch anything without extensive cleaning.”
“So what you’re saying is,” His hands settle on my hips, thumbs tracing the dimples at the base of my spine. “since you’re touching the chicken, you can’t touch me.”
Oh. Oh no. My pulse thunders in my ears. “That’s one of the things I’m saying, yes.”
“Then don’t touch me.”
His hands slide over my ass, kneading, exploring. I drag in a shaky breath and try to focus on what I’m doing. The chicken breast needs to be sewn shut carefully, the twine tight enough to hold the filling but not so tight it tears the meat.
Vin’s fingers trail lower, teasing, and I feel him hard against my back. “Keep going,” he orders. “Pretend like I’m not here.”
A breathless laugh escapes me. “That’s not easy, Vin.”
“You don’t ever come with me anyway, right?” The words have an edge I don’t understand. “So it shouldn’t be that hard.”
“I don’t come with anyone,” I correct him softly, pulling another stitch through. “It’s not about you.”
He shifts behind me, and suddenly he’s pushing inside me with no warning, the overwhelming fullness of him stretching me open. I gasp, the needle slipping from my fingers.
“Keep. Going.” Each word is punctuated by a slow, deliberate thrust.
My hands shake as I retrieve the needle. This is impossible. How am I supposed to concentrate when he’s—
“Focus, Sophia.” His voice is harsh against my ear. “You’re nothing but my fuckhole, aren’t you? My dirty little cumslut who’s not allowed to stop cooking while I use her.”
I feel like his goal is to humiliate me but instead, heat floods through me, settling low and fiery. “Yes,” I whisper, pulling another stitch, then gasping as he thrusts inside me. “I love being your dirty little fuckhole,padrone. Make me your whore.”
He growls, his rhythm faltering. I can feel his frustration. He’s trying so hard to break me, but he doesn’t understand: thisis what I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted. His roughness, his dominance, the way he takes without asking. Submitting to him makes me feel alive in a way nothing else does.
I finish suturing the chicken with trembling hands and set it aside. He pulls out and shoves me toward the sink. “Clean up. Wash your hands, this counter, anything that touched the chicken.”
I do as he says, scrubbing until it’s pristine. When I turn to him, he grabs me and throws me up on the counter I just cleaned and throws the bottom of the apron up over my face so I can’t see. I gasp when he shoves my legs open wide, lifting them up over his shoulders so that my hands scrabble across the counter trying to hold myself up before I fall. I’m folded in half, my face covered, when I feel wet liquid poured over my exposed pussy and back entrance, and he pushes his cock into my ass.
“VIN!!”
Wrapping his strong arms around my legs and torso, pinning my arms to my sides, he squeezes me so tight it almost stops my breathing, my ass full of his cock as he pounds into me. When I start to see stars, I weakly tap his side until he relents, ripping the apron off my face.
