“Jesus,” I rasp, my chest heaving from the shock and awe of his arrival and the subsequent sex.
“No, Little Bird. Husband,” he says, pointing to himself with an amused laugh. “How was your day?”
“My day?” I blurt, confused how we’ve gone from him walking through the door, ripping my underwear off, and fucking me like he couldn’t wait a moment longer to polite conversation with no buildup or post-coital snuggles.
“Did you get much school stuff done?”
“Don’t you already know?” I question snarkily. “I thought you spent most of your time watching me through the cameras you put in every corner of every room in this house.”
“I was busy, and I knew you weren’t going anywhere,” he says confidently, his eyes hooded, as his gaze drops between my spread legs, where I can feel his cum slowly dripping out of me and onto the couch beneath us. “What shall we do for dinner?”
“I don’t care,” I say, my lips splitting into a yawn. “Won’t the food delivery service bring us something? I’m assuming that’s how my breakfast and lunch appeared.”
“No, that was our chef.”
“We don’t have a chef.”
“Actually, we do. His name is Armand.”
“What the fuck, Sebastian? I told you I don’t want staff in the house.”
“He’s not in the house. He’s living and cooking out of one of the staff houses on the other side of the estate.”
“That’s basically the same thing,” I whine.
“You said you didn’t want staff in our home. I respected that. Armand’s job is to cook for us, and I’ve had the staff house fitted with commercial-grade appliances. He’ll cook over there and deliver it to the house like we’ve ordered a DoorDash.”
Exhaling, I try to decide if the no-staff thing is a hill I’m willing to die on. It’s not, so I nod and close my eyes as Sebastian rubs his fingers in soft circles up and down my thigh. “Ask him if he knows how to make sushi.”
Apparently, Armand does know how to make sushi, because within thirty minutes there’s a knock at the door. Jumping up, Sebastian closes the door to the den to hide my half-naked body from view so he can go and answer it.
“We’ll eat in the dining room, please,” I hear Sebastian say, followed by the sound of his retreating footsteps.
Rolling to my side, I swing my feet to the floor, looking around for my discarded clothes and finding them in a heap by the fireplace. Standing, I head over to them, then bend over to pick them up.
The door opens just as I’m debating if I have time for a quick shower, instead of putting on underwear that will be wet with residual…liquids…once gravity makes sure that all of the cum Sebastian fucked into me, makes its way back out of me again.
“What are you doing?” Sebastian asks.
“Wondering if I can tolerate wet panties, or if I should go and clean up before we eat.”
Crossing the room to me, he takes my panties and drops them to the floor again, then strips my top over my head, finally removing my lace bralette, leaving me completely naked.
Bending down, he scoops me off my feet and throws me over his shoulder, his palm landing on my ass and gripping the cheek tightly as he spins around and carries me out of the room.
“Sebastian,” I laugh, grabbing hold of the back of his pants for balance.
Once we’re in the dining room, he lowers me to my feet. Sitting down in the seat at the head of the table, he pulls me down so I’m straddling his leg.
“Sebastian,” I giggle as he bands his arm around my waist, pushing his hand between my thighs and cupping my pussy in his big palm. “What are you doing?”
Instead of responding, he leans forward, making me tilt toward the table as he grabs two sets of chopsticks and passes one to me. It’s not until the chopsticks are in my hand that I notice the platters full of sushi laid out on the table in front of us.
“Oh my god, Armand did this in the time since you texted him?” I ask.
“He came highly recommended. How were your breakfast and lunch?”
“Delicious,” I admit a little grudgingly.
