Chapter 46

46

Edward

"Where did you learn to cook?"

"I taught myself." I bring some of the pasta to my mouth and chew on it. I sent her to change into more comfortable clothes, and proceeded to cook. When she returned, she wore the sleep shorts and camisole I laid out for her. Good. She watched me as I’d cooked, and I paused to offer her small tastes of the food. Then realized watching her little, pink tongue lick the sauce off the ladle was turning the entire experience into an erotic episode. My pants grew too tight, and my balls hardened, and that wouldn’t do. I needed to ensure she was fed, so I stepped away and focused on the cooking. Soon, I plated out the food and slid it over to her, and we both dug in.

"You taught yourself?" She scoops up more pasta with her fork.

"You sound surprised."

"It’s really good, is all," she offers.

"I had time on my hands when I went traveling after leaving the church. After years of not allowing myself to indulge, it felt necessary to feed all of my senses, so I took some classes in different countries."

Her brow furrows. " All of your senses?"

I nod.

"So you were with women?"

"You know I didn’t have penetrative sex with anyone for two years," I remind her.

"But you did do, uh…kinky stuff with them?"

"I watched. And I may have touched?—"

She pauses with her fork halfway to her mouth.

"I was experimenting."

"Experimenting?"

"I knew my tastes ran to the extreme. I wanted to see how much."

"And what did you find?"

"That BDSM helped me deal with the trauma from my past."

"You mean inflicting pain on another helps you release your own?"

"And inflicting it on myself." I take another mouthful of the food, then nod to her plate. "You need to eat."

She places her fork on her plate. "I think I’ve lost my appetite."

"Are you jealous that there were other women I used before you?"

"Maybe?"

"You don’t need to be."

She tips up her chin.

"You’re the only woman I’ve wanted to bind to me. You’re the only woman I’ve wanted to mark. You’re the only one I married?—"

"Fake married."

"I think we’re past that, Belle."

She purses her lips. "I want to believe you. You brought me here, and I can tell this place is special."

"So are you."

She flushes, then picks up her fork and begins to eat. Thank fuck. The thought of her going hungry sends a physical ache through me. I plate out more food for her. She protests, but I insist she eat it. Then, when she’s done, I cut a large slice of chocolate cake.

"Did you bake that?" Her eyes widen.

I allow myself a small smile. "I could've if I’d had more time, but this is from the housekeeper."

"Housekeeper?" She looks around the place, then back at me. "You have a housekeeper?"

"A caretaker and his wife who live in the village. They take care of the place and make sure it is stocked when I’m going to visit. They shopped for fresh ingredients before we arrived."

"You sent them a list, I’m assuming?"

I shoot her a glance. "And you guessed this, how?"

"You’re so particular about everything. Of course, you’d make sure your favorite haunt has groceries, which you specified."

I continue to stare at her, and she raises her gaze to meet mine. "What?"

"You’re not eating the cake." She looks down at the untouched slice. "I… I’m full."

"You love chocolate cake."

"How do you know that?"

"Who doesn’t like chocolate?" I ask lightly.

"You don’t."

I tilt my head. "That is true."

"You really don’t like chocolate?" She gapes.

I shake my head. "Not unless it’s 100% cocoa."

She makes a face. "That’s too bitter for me."

"Not a big fan of sugar."

She groans. "So you also don’t like cookies and apple pie, I suppose?"

"But you like them all. Which is why—" I scoop up a piece of the chocolate cake with my finger and hold it out. "Open."

"I shouldn’t," she murmurs.

"You absolutely should."

"It’ll go straight to my thighs."

"Just how I like it."

"It will?—"

"Open. Your. Mouth. Belle."

She instantly parts her lips. Fucking gratifying. I slide my finger between them. She closes her mouth around the digit and licks off the last bit of icing.

"That is sinful." She makes a sound that goes straight to my groin. I can feel the suction of her mouth all the way to the crown of my cock. I scoop up more of the icing with my finger and smear it over her lips.

Her breath hitches, and her cheeks pink. Then she flicks out her tongue and licks it off, and every cell in my body stands to attention.

She swallows. "I shouldn’t want more, but I do."

So do I.

I pick up some more of the cake and hold it out. She leans forward and licks it from my fingertips. Our gazes meet, the air thickens, grows saturated with need. My thigh muscles grow even harder. I’m fucking torturing myself. I take another dollop of the icing, lean over and drag it down her chin, her throat, to where the dark shadow of her cleavage is visible, then over her sleep camisole. She’s not wearing a bra underneath, and her nipples are outlined through the silky material.

"I just showered."

"I want to shower you with my cum."

She gasps. "Is that filthy? It is. Am I aroused by it? I am. This is soooo wrong." She shakes her head.

"All the good things in life are. A lesson I learned the hard way. Come here, Belle."

She swallows, then slides off the stool and comes to stand in between my legs. I push the hair back from her flushed cheeks, and her breathing intensifies.

"There are going to be a few rules as long as we're here."

"Rules?"

I nod. "Rules to ensure your orgasms bring you the most pleasure possible. Rules to ensure you have the greatest number of orgasms in the shortest period of time."

"Oh."

Her voice is so breathless, so excited, I almost smile. This woman makes me act out of character. It’s a constant surprise. One I relish. One I’d miss if she weren’t around. It’s the main reason I need to ensure she never leaves me. It’s why I need to gratify her, ensure she’s so high on endorphins, she’s addicted to the sensation only I can rouse in her.

"First rule, no clothes." I snatch a knife from the counter, slide it under her camisole straps and twist.