Chapter 7

Jason

That flirtatious skirt is flipped up over Journey’s waist as she lies back against the pillows.

As I crowd over her on the bed, all I can think is, Damn, what a sight. Her breasts, nipples, and throat bear the tiny red marks from my mouth that will bruise later. Her heavy-lidded gaze regards me as she lies on her side, tugging the front of my shirt to pull me down for a kiss.

“Thought you said you wanted me to rest.”

I give her a searing look. “This is how you rest whenever I’m around.”

All that implies is going to get me into trouble. But it’s too late. I already know that this isn’t going to be our first and last time together.

“Oh,” is all she says as I knock her legs open, revealing her swollen, damp pussy, its tight line of dark curls beckoning me to have my fill.

I’m drunk at the sight of her. Journey’s softly rounded lower belly below her navel. The subtle trail of soft hair—and still more freckles—begging to be touched.

“Take the skirt off… that’s a good girl.”

With the mussed chiffon out of the way, she can watch me as I worship her lower belly. Pooch. Whatever it’s called. I growl on it as I run my palms over the soft, yielding flesh.

Gooseflesh rises across her skin.

“Journey, I can’t believe you did all this for me. How much you’ve shown me when you have so little evidence that makes me worthy of your trust.”

“Don’t I?”

She gives me a teasing look as I lower my head, resting it on her stomach and caressing her softness. I could lie here forever, with her fingers scraping through my hair, her soft laughter filling my ears.

The scent of her rises to ensnare me. I rise up and position myself between her legs once more, moving her onto her back.

I’ve tasted the finest wines and the finest honeys from around the world in my role as a chef. But the first taste of Journey is better than all of it combined. I tease my tongue over the silky seam, up and down, before splitting her open with my thumbs.

“Fuck me,” I rumble against her wetness.

She sucks in a sharp breath. I know. I’m going too hard, too fast after such a powerful release for her but I’m so damn hungry for her. She fucking owns me.

I slip my tongue into her sweet cunt, lapping up every drop. Journey whimpers, wriggling under me. She squirts on my tongue. My cock weeps to be buried in deep, to push, to thrust, to fuck her until she’s hoarse from screaming.

I run the edge of my thumb down, circling it over the tight, star-shaped hole. Testing her. Teasing her.

“Jay…” she mews.

She knows what I want.

I notch that thumb inside while I build her back up, toying and worshiping her pussy with my mouth.

There’s a reason I made her come fast. For this part? I take my fucking time.

Journey is a delicate feast.

She slowly builds back up before exploding on my tongue, her muscles tightening around my thumb.

Writhing and spasming on the bed, Journey cries out my name. I share her taste with her, licking into her mouth.

Breathless, she sits up and reaches for my belt.

Once again, I swat her away.

“But—” Journey protests.

“You have to be patient, shortcake.”

She makes a frustrated noise but follows my instructions when I order her to go to the bathroom and get a drink of water.

When she comes out, she finds me propped up against the headboard, fisting my cock.

“Crawl to me.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

She’s so good at this, I can’t help but wonder if she does think this is all transactional.

But then I see the enthusiasm, the raw need in her eyes as she gets on her hands and knees. That’s mine right there. All fucking mine.

Once Journey’s hovering over me, her ample breasts undulating, I tell her what I want.

“Spit on it.”

Her emerald eyes widen. “I can’t do that.”

She starts to back away, but I grab her wrist. “Spit on it.”

After studying me for a beat, she rolls her tongue inside her mouth, then lets a silvery rope of saliva fall to my tip.

“What do I do now?” Journey asks.

“Now, you stop talking, open your dirty mouth and take this dick like a good girl.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she croaks.

Am I an asshole for getting off on talking to her like this? Yes. But she’s so good at it, and I’m already addicted to having her like this.

She closes her eyes, then wraps her pretty mouth around the tip of my cock.

“Eyes on me.” I fist a handful of her hair and guide her on my cock, slowly letting her get used to how I feel in her mouth. Then, I push in, finding a rhythm. I nearly lose my mind at every tiny moan from her throat, vibrating against my skin.

The more I push, the more she opens her throat to take me.

I could come now, pouring myself out down her throat. I, in fact, need to come. But not like this.

In one swift movement I pull Journey off my cock and move her onto her side, her back to my front.

She lets out a long sigh.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, sweetheart.”

“I’m shy,” she says.

I notch my rock-hard cock between her upper thighs, her wet, swollen folds wetting my shaft.

“Tell me.”

“I like this. I like you spooning me. I feel safe.”

Her sweet words drill a hole in my chest, exposing everything missing from my life.

It’s her. I found her. I found the one to protect. The one I want to keep warm and safe for as long as I live.

One thrust between her upper thighs and I’m nearly launched through the atmosphere.

“Daddy will always keep you safe, baby girl.”

Her soft, sweet cries break me in half as I come, long and hard.

I’m making promises to a woman who doesn’t even know who I am.

She’ll find out soon enough.

A phone rings from inside the bathroom.

The running shower shuts off and Journey answers the call, delight in her voice.

“This is Journey! Hello?”

The unbearably long pause has me holding my breath, and I’m frozen to the bed.

“Oh my gosh, are you kidding me?”

Another pause, and then, “No, no, of course you’re not kidding. Of course I accept. That’s amazing news, thank you so much…oh…the salary? That’s…fine…yes, less than I expected, but we all have to work our way to the top, right? No, not your restaurant, I just mean in general…no, chef, I’m not implying that Rubicon is only a stepping stone…listen, I’m so grateful for the opportunity…great, see you tomorrow.”

The phone echoes on the other side of the door as she sets it on the bathroom counter.

I’m already dialing my business partner, Cash Young, when Journey resumes her shower.

“Hey buddy. Who owns the Rubicon?”

“And hello to you, too,” Cash answers.

“I don’t have time for small talk, Cash.”

“Fair enough. Well, Einstein, it’s in the Rushmore Hotel, right? So, I believe it’s a Rushmore property. Why?”

“Find out if Nick is interested in selling the restaurant to us.”

Cash scoffs. “No way. That’s Richard’s baby.”

“That chef’s a tool, and about one dropped serving spoon away from a lawsuit.”

“You’ve got no room to talk, the way you shout at people.”

Cash is not wrong. The last sous chef at our McKinney restaurant quit when I yelled at him for bringing in a nitrogen tank to try some molecular gastronomy.

“These kids today don’t listen when I tell them our customers don’t want any of that shit.”

“OK, Grandpa,” Cash snorts.

I shake my head. “We’ll make it worth Nick’s while. Just find out what he needs to sell it out from under Richard. Draw up the papers today and call Ashley,” I say, referring to our attorney.

Cash hesitates. “Are we Young Riggins-ing this shit? As in, an overnight turnover? For real?”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely we are.”

He pauses, then grunts. “I trust your judgment on this; we have the cash on hand. But, man, that Rushmore guy is an old pain in the ass. Still, it’s a hugely popular restaurant so the contract would be worth it. But why now?”

The only answer he gets from me is, “Location, location, location.”