I leaned close to her ear and spoke low. “Just because your pussy hasn’t been stretched by my dick in weeks, you forgot I’m no boy? You know I’m big daddy, right baby?”
She shivered at my words, and I couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, I’d promised to wait until she gave me her heart before I fucked her, but if she needed a little reminder now and then, I didn’tmind.
“I’ll let you eat. I have business to handle.”
“Oh, okay. I’ve got work too. I’ll call Valery to check on a few files.”
“Alright. And if you need your laptop, Valery already sent it.”
“Perfect.”
“See you later, baby.”
I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving the room.
I settled in the living room with my laptop. Serenity joined me, and we both worked for most of the morning.
When noon hit, I went to the kitchen to fix lunch.
“What are you cooking?” she asked.
“Dos de cabillaud nacré, beurre blanc monté au vin blanc, écrasé de céleri-rave et légumes croquants,” I said in French.
“Okay, and in human language, what’s that mean?”
I chuckled. “It’s pan-fried fish with a butter and white wine sauce.”
“Okay. It sounds nice and really gourmet. Can you teach me how to cook it your way, star chef from Paris?”
I laughed again. “Come here.”
She came over and I tied an apron around her waist, taking my time to fasten the top strap behind her neck. My fingers grazed her skin, raising goosebumps. I leaned in close to her ear. The sweet perfume she wore radiated off her skin and hit my senses hard.
“You good?” I whispered, but my baby was too breathless to answer.
I closed my eyes, got even closer, breathed her in, then pressed the softest kiss to her neck. God, I wanted this woman. Wanted her so bad it was torture. But I didn’t want to rush. Her heart was what I wanted most.
“We’ll start by peeling and cooking the celeriac, then we’llmash it with butter, salt, and pepper.”
I showed her each step and she followed perfectly, focused on repeating every move with care.
“You learned all this from your mom?” she asked.
“Well, at first yeah. But after that I spent six months apprenticing with a French chef in Paris,” I said, helping her with the veggies.
“That’s why you speak French so well?”
“Yup. You think I sound good? Considering most of the French words I say to you are…”
I pressed her gently against the kitchen island, trapping her between my body and the counter. My head dropped to her ear, and in a low, deep voice I reminded her of all the things I used to whisper when I made love to her.
“Donne-moi mafontaine de jouissance, bébé. Tu es tellement belle. Tu aimes quand je te baise comme ça? Je veux que cette chatte gicle pour moi.” I pushed my hips closer so she could feel exactly how hard I was for her.
“Konflict…” she moaned.
“You know those words, don’t you? You know exactly what I want when I ask for thatfontaine de jouissance, don’t you?”
“Fuck… we’re cooking.”
