Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Draven
“Will you be my Daddy?” Claire hiccups in my ear.
That’s all it takes for me to ejaculate violently in my briefs.
One second, I’m trying to talk myself out of fucking her against these ancient lockers, the next I’m hitting such an intense sexual peak, I lose my sense of sight.
The tendons in my throat grow strained from the need to shout, hurting so badly that I just give in, roaring in a foreign combination of victory and shock as I unload so much hot, gluey come, I feel instantly lightheaded.
My stomach hollows and twists under the onslaught, my heart hammering seemingly behind my eyes, and I can’t stop staring at Claire.
Her beauty and the way she seems so excited by my body’s premature explosion only heightens the insane pleasure, and I break again, again, bellowing hoarsely against her forehead while my balls tighten and spasm.
“Yes,” I answer when I’m finally able, because there is no other possible response, even though I’ve never been someone’s Daddy, or even someone’s boyfriend, nor do I know what the position entails.
I only know I want to be important to this girl, and Daddy sounds like just about the most important rank in a young girl’s life.
There’s a part of me that knows our relationship is never going to be a typical one after what has transpired tonight, and I don’t care.
In fact, great.
I don’t want to be some normal man to Claire. I want to be…
“Hell yes, I’ll be your fucking Daddy.”
She blinks several times, as if her surroundings are coming back into focus. “I don’t know what made me ask that,” she whispers. “I don’t even really know what it means.”
I plant my forehead against hers, still trying to recover from the blinding orgasm that ran roughshod through my system, my breath coming in pants.
“We’re going to find out together.” When she continues to look dazed and bemused, I put my thumb in her mouth and she suckles it automatically.
My God, I feel the pull of her involuntary response all the way down in my testicles, a newfound dominance shifting into place inside of me.
“Suck my thumb while I explain something to you.”
Looking up at me through her lashes, she does as she’s told, her little cunt still quivering and hot against my sated cock. And she suck, suck, sucks on my thumb, like a perfect angel.
How badly have I needed this? Needed her without realizing it?
I swallow thickly and press my thumb deeper, her excited whimper like a masterpiece symphony for my ears.
“You are not going to work at Swet. Not tonight and not ever. You want to work, it’s going to be in my kitchen.
Or you can choose to never work again. Now, you are going to put on your coat over the gorgeous body that belongs to me now and we’re going to walk out of here together.
” I draw my thumb in and out of her mouth, watching her lush lips part to allow me in, out, in, her dreamy gaze fixated on me, while a sense of rightness spreads to every corner of my being.
“If you want to stop by your place and get some clothes, that’s fine.
We’ll stop. But you sleep in Daddy’s bed now. Do you understand?”
She nods…and there’s no other way to describe her expression but adoring.
She adores me.
Not my food.
This is the first time such a thing has ever happened.
My value has always been strictly tied to my cuisine.
And my heart trips into a gallop in response.
Longing to hear her voice, I slip my thumb out of her mouth with a little pop and she whispers my name.
Draven. And suddenly my stomach is on the floor, because I realize I’ve totally neglected to kiss her mouth thus far.
How? How did I resist such delectable lips?
“I’m sorry, little girl,” I murmur, tilting her chin up. “I’m sorry I haven’t played with your tongue yet. Give it to me now.”
I have no idea what’s about to happen.
But there’s a spark between us. A visible one. Like…magic.
I assume it’s a trick of light or a leftover reaction to my climax.
A second later, however, I realize there is something otherworldly at play.
Something I never could have anticipated in a million years.
I drop my mouth at an angle over Claire’s and my head explodes with light and color and music. The taste of her is ambrosia that goes pumping through my tastebuds and stiffens my cock to full mast in a split second, ripping a groan from my throat. Oh God. Oh God.
I am not responsible for how I react. Her taste takes my life over.
I’m a chef that has spent his entire life crafting food and perfecting recipes, but there has never and will never be anything that comes close to Claire’s perfect, giving little mouth.
It’s an aphrodisiac. A right upper cut to the jaw.
Unmatched sexual stimulus that has me seriously worried I’m going to blow all over again in my pants.
I yank her off the locker and turn around the room with her clinging to me, locked in the kiss that could start a war, no idea what to do about the cataclysmic lust blanketing my system, my fingers rifling through her hair to clasp her skull and pull her deeper, deeper, trying to get as much of the taste inside me as possible until I can no longer breathe and I finally tear myself away, gasping for oxygen.
“Jesus Christ,” I bellow, the sound echoing in the small room.
She studies my face for several seconds, blushing and curious. “Did I do it right?”
“Claire, I…” I’m at a loss for words. I only know that my chef instinct is kicking in, along with the hunger she’s awoken inside of me.
Before I know my own mind, I’m carrying my treasure into the kitchen and sitting her down on the metal prep counter, alongside one of the many ovens.
Although, this one is the most important, because it’s where my pot resides.
My pot that contains the new sauce I’ve been working on tirelessly for the fall menu.
Nothing I have tried seems to bring it together. Not garlic or ginger or oregano.
I’ve thrown out so many incarnations of this sauce, I’ve lost count.
Her mouth is the missing ingredient.
Does that sound crazy? Absolutely. But I can’t shake the intuition.
“Is everything okay, Draven?” she asks, her hands clutching the edge of the counter—and lord, topless in fishnets with her hair all fucked up, mouth swollen from sucking my thumb, she is by far the most incredible sight I’ve ever witnessed.
Somehow, I know that from this day forward, this kitchen will be empty unless Claire is sitting in it.
“Everything is okay, Claire. Better than okay.” I reach out and stroke the side of her face, my chest compressing when she leans into the touch and nuzzles. “Will you help me try something rather…unusual?”
“I’m not a cook, but I’ll try.”
“Good girl.” How am I going to do this? More to the point, how am I going to do this without her thinking I’m crazy?
I take a test spoon from the metal cup on the counter and I dip it into the pot of burgundy sauce.
I bring the spooned liquid to her mouth, pressing it to the seam that parts for me automatically. “Taste this for me.”
“Yes, chef,” she whispers, humor dancing in her eyes.
I almost scrap this whole experiment due to her being so adorable and start kissing her again, but no. Just hold on another minute or you’ll always wonder.
I keep the spoon in her mouth long after she’s finished tasting, turning it over and around, bringing it away glistening with the taste of her. And Claire watches with surprise as I dip that spoon back into the sauce, stirring it around and around, counterclockwise.
A ripple goes across the surface, purple sparks teasing along the edges of the concoction. We both see it. I know this, because she gasps.
Right before my very eyes, the burgundy color deepens to a hue I can’t even name.
I’ve never seen this rich type of red in my life.
Anticipation brewing in my gut, I spoon the new version of the sauce into my mouth…
The perfection of it almost drops me to my knees.
It’s a flavor with no name, no classification…but the origin is clear.
It’s Claire.
She’s been my missing ingredient all along.