Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Draven
I’m still fuming when we walk into my building an hour later.
My loft is on the top floor overlooking the sound, and I’m desperate to get my girlfriend inside those four safe walls where she belongs.
Claire’s hand is enfolded inside of mine, and I might never let go of it again after seeing the kind of conditions she’s been living in for the past two days.
The Dixie Motel was worse than I thought.
Rotten, rundown, moldy and riddled with crime. It’s a wonder she survived.
Impatiently, I punch the button for the elevator.
“You’re overreacting,” she says, sounding a little out of breath, probably because in my state of total outrage, she’s been running to keep up with me since we parked my car.
With a wave of regret, I toss her up into my arms and lean down to kiss her forehead.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I just feel sick to my stomach thinking what might have happened if my brother chose not to hire you. Would I have found you?”
The elevator door opens and I carry my treasure inside, her small bag of possessions looped over my shoulder. Please don’t let this be a dream.
This morning, I woke up bleary eyed from too much cognac and the stress that comes from maintaining a perfect restaurant.
That was all I had. Now, I cannot even begin to fathom my life without the angelic girl nestled into my chest. I’ve been granted a miracle, but I can only seem to dwell on how close I came to never knowing her.
“I think you would have found me, regardless,” she says, her fingers so sweet and welcome on my stubbled jaw. “But I’m glad your brother decided to ‘throw me to the wolf.’”
Irritation rakes up my spine. “Is that how he phrased it?”
She hums. “It’s okay. It’s easy to see he’s the one with the sharper teeth.”
Something moves inside of me. It’s appreciation and discomfort, all at once. Appreciation because Claire sees me for who I really am. Or who I can be, for her.
Discomfort because my brother is now part of the conversation.
“He’s going to be a problem, Claire.”
“I know,” she whispers.
“He wants you.”
“He can’t have me.”
“No.” Violent possessiveness is a bolt tightening in my chest. “He can’t. No one can.”
“Only you.” The elevator doors open, and my loft spreads out in front of us, sprawling and expensive, but she continues to gaze up at my face, as if the luxury of my place means nothing in comparison to me.
And all I can think is, Jesus, I’ll be in love with her before the sun comes up tomorrow.
There’s a damn good chance I already am.
Love at first sight. “Pierre…” Claire begins, trailing off.
“Yes?” I ask, stepping off the elevator and walking slowly into my kitchen, content to keep her cradled in my arms forever. “What about him?”
Her blonde brows furrow as she searches for the right words. “He seems to be…holding something over your head. About your mother.”
Instantly, the guilt wells up inside of me.
It’s a fountain that can never be turned off, no matter how hard I try.
And I’ve never shared the burden with anyone in my life.
Instead, I channel all that pain into my cooking, trying to turn the ugliness into something of worth.
But with Claire looking up at me with so much trust and mercy, I find myself wanting to let her in.
All the way. Especially after she went through the discomfort of telling me about her difficult upbringing.
I carry Claire into the kitchen and settle her down on the white marble island, easing the coat from her shoulders.
Stepping back to breathe in the view of her, topless and outlined by the glittering coastline that lays on the other side of the windows, her blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders.
“Dear God, you are breathtaking,” I rasp, my heart trapped in my mouth.
“So are you,” she whispers, blushing slightly. “But I would love to see more of you, too.”
Heat crawls through my abdomen.
She came after one concise drive of my hips earlier, clawing and moaning between my body and the locker, even though she’s a virgin. Now she’s asking me to strip? Somehow, I know she’s going to fucking slay me in bed. My only fear is that she won’t be able to walk when I’m done with her tonight.
In one fell swoop, I drag my T-shirt over my head and toss it away, noting the way her lips pop open on a swift intake of air, her tight ass squirming around on the counter.
“Better?” I ask her.
“M-much.” She blinks several times, a flutter of long lashes. Those nipples stiffen and beg for a suck. Yeah, she likes what she sees. “When d-did you get all those tattoos?”
“Went through a dark period,” I mutter, taking her knees in my hands and sliding her to the edge of the counter, slowly inserting myself between her sexy legs, still encasing in the fishnets.
In easing her thighs open, that black thong sneaks into the valley of her cunt, and all I can think about is roping her hands to my headboard and licking that little slit until she creams herself.
“I think maybe I was still going through that dark period until I saw you tonight.”
She settles her hand on my shoulders and waits.
Waits for my honesty. And I want to give it to her.
“My mother was a chef, like me. Taught me everything I know. She was an incredible culinary mind. She founded Tartine, actually. Put it on the map, but she…died in a kitchen fire about a decade ago. Smoke inhalation.” Emotion rises in my throat like a hot tide, but Claire immediately pulls me closer, her arms wrapping tightly around my torso, giving me the strength I need to continue.
“She had a habit of falling asleep in the rear office after her shift,” I say gruffly into my girlfriend’s sweet neck.
I don’t worry she’ll think I’m a monster, despite what I’m about to tell her.
I know she won’t. “I never leave the gas on, but…I must have. I was the only one there. Some flammable cleaning products caught fire and…she didn’t make it out. ”
“Oh, Draven. I’m so sorry,” she whispers in my ear, a tremor in her voice. “That must have been a terrible time for you.”
I crowd into the sanctuary of her, groaning at the perfect correspondence of her gentle curves to my muscle. How fucking smooth she is. “That’s where all the tattoos came in. I just wanted the pain. The marks to make my misery last as long as possible. Like I deserve.”
She strokes her fingers through my hair, her fingernails scraping my scalp lightly.
It’s the most comforted I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
“I’ll never get the chance to meet your mother, but if she raised someone as protective and driven and creative as you, I know she wouldn’t want you to let guilt hold you back.
Shame on your brother for putting that on you. ”
My heart flips over. “My tiny defender.”
“I told you, I’m tougher than I look.”
Unable to sustain my willpower any longer, I fit my mouth over hers, inhaling the heavenly taste so powerful it can alter my brain chemistry, along with the structure of a sauce.
Her mouth is a miracle. A drug. An elixir.
“Are you tougher than you look, little girl?” I ask, dropping my hands to the waistband of her stockings, hooking my thumbs there and dragging the fishnets down, along with the tiny thong.
“What I need to do to you isn’t for the faint of heart. ”
“What do you need to do to me, Daddy?” she asks, her innocent tone of voice making my balls swell to the size of apples.
God, who knew I’d end this day someone’s father figure, lover and guardian, all rolled into one? Certainly not me, but I couldn’t live without the responsibility ever again.
“I need to drive this lust from my body into yours,” I say against her mouth, praising her with a hot kiss when she lifts her tight ass without a command, allowing me to get the tights off. All the way off. Leaving her beautifully naked on the island. “Show me where I’m going to put my lust.”
Claire hesitates for a moment, breathing hard, then taps an index finger right there on the wet seam of her cunt. “Here?”
Longing wracks my body. “Yes.” I want to unzip my pants and grind her down onto my cock.
Just want to fuck her silly against this counter.
But this girl is the most important person in my life now and I will do this right.
I will take her virginity in a way that she remembers with a smile forever, even if the wait kills me.
“Yes, that’s where I’m going to put my cock, night after night after night, until you scream for me in your sleep.
” I press her back slowly onto the counter and lean in over her delicate pussy, so pretty and flushed and snug looking.
“But Daddy is going to lick it first tonight, okay? You’re such a good girl and my tongue is going to praise you for that. ”
She’s shy, coyly trying to close her legs after I release an anticipatory breath on her cunt, but as soon as I press my face against her and lick along that dripping wet divide, she arches her back and whines my—
Bliss kicks me between the eyes.
Oh…fuck.
Oh God.
I can’t believe this is happening.
The flavor of her pussy is somehow just as phenomenal as her mouth.
Different, equally mind-blowing.
I bellow a curse up against her drenched seam of flesh, shoving my face into her soft flesh, panting, my mind racing with possibilities and flavor combinations and…
Jesus. I have to get more. I lap at her like a madman, her sweet juices a delicacy on my tongue.
Her thighs are pried wide and I’m devouring her, her cries of pleasure egging me on. As if I could stop.
My girlfriend has a cunt made of pure gold.
The taste of her arousal is stoning me, while simultaneously turning my cock to a thick bar of steel. I’m going up in flames, humping the air desperately, her flesh squishing on my tongue, so wet she should be illegal.
Son of a bitch.
What am I going to do?
No doubt, I’m going to bust.
Soon.
The tip of my tongue finds her clit and rubs gently, her ass lifting and slapping back down on the marble island with a cry of, “Daddy!”
By everything holy, I can’t stop consuming her.
My dick should be buried inside of her by now and I should be riding her into oblivion, but an army of men couldn’t drag me off this delicious cunt. Every drip of her bliss hits the back of my throat and opens up new worlds, new colors, new possibilities
She’s a dream. A cure-all. She can’t be real.
“Claire,” I moan against her parted flesh. “It’s just like your mouth, but different.”
“R-really?”
“Yes. Keep your legs open for me,” I beg thickly. “Goddamn.”
I look up at her delicious body and find her huffing and puffing, her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, a fine sheen of perspiration breaking out on her tits.
I commit her to memory just like this. In the seconds before the first time that I make her orgasm with my tongue, because it’s going to be far from the last. I’m not sure I’ll ever make it through a day again without splaying her thighs open and eating this singularly delicious dessert that can’t be found anywhere else.
Every part of this girl is a five-star feast.
“I think I’m…c-c-coming!” She falls back flat on the island, and I go with her, grunting and panting at the apex of her thighs, flickering her clit in a fierce repetition. “Oh, please!”
I push two fingers inside of her, my knees nearly giving out to find her so unbelievably tight and while I finger her, pumping my digits in and out slowly, she releases a dainty gush, her thighs locked in twin earthquakes around my face.
Pleasure rocks all my senses, and I’m cast to some utopian state at the flavor of her climax.
There is simply nothing like it in this world.
Sweeter than sweet. Fresh plum. White chocolate. Champagne. An unknown.
Keeping my two fingers as deep as they’ll go, I lap at her pussy greedily, savoring every single drop of perfection, reeling at the flavor profile, the sounds she’s making while letting me imbibe.
Horny little mewls that will forever occupy my head.
My cock is distended and engorged against the lower cabinets, dying for what my tongue has the honor of tasting.
I need to fuck her.
Now.
Somehow, I manage to remove my mouth from the damp heaven between her thighs, her beauty bowling me over.
Stumbling me back. Has she been made more beautiful since we arrived at the apartment?
She’s a siren leaned back on her elbows, nudity laid out in front of me like a gift from God.
I’m not sure where I find the control to reach for the stainless-steel refrigerator handle with my left hand, opening it and removing a pot of stewing apples.
“What’s that?” she asks in between reedy breaths.
“I’m not a dessert chef, but I make an apple tarte tartin on occasion,” I say raggedly, barely able to concentrate with my dick so stiff.
Still, somehow I proceed to carry the pot to the counter beside Claire.
Setting it down at her hip, I remove the lid and stir my still-wet pair of fingers through the sweet concoction.
Both of us exhale in disbelief as the contents of the pot turn a deep, dusky rose.
“Oh, my goodness,” Claire whispers, dipping her pinky into the pot and bringing it between her lips, her pupils dilating so rapidly, I reach out to steady her, afraid she’s going to lose consciousness. “Oh, Draven!”
Eager to experience the same bliss as Claire, I bring the entire pot to my lips and tip it sideways, gulping a mouthful of magic. Pure fucking magic.
All because of her pussy.
“I’ve fallen for the eighth wonder of the world, haven’t I?
” I mutter, tossing aside the pot and dragging my girlfriend into my arms, partaking of her drugging mouth as I carry her to the bedroom, overcome with lust at the way she clings to me, giving, willing, soft, eager.
“No one can know what you’re capable of, little girl, or you’ll be stolen from me,” I say sternly, laying her down on top of my bed where she nods at me with unhesitating trust. I must keep her safe.
I must guard her from the frenzy she’s capable of inciting.
“You are priceless. In every way. You’re priceless without the way you taste, Claire.
But Christ, you’re also a drug that can’t be manufactured.
People would be desperate to get some if they knew. ”
I lean down and rub my face against her smooth little cunt, swearing it glows in the darkness of my bedroom.
“Only Daddy will know how special you are,” I whisper, agonized by the pain in my balls. It’s spreading throughout my abdomen and twisting. Demanding I rut her. “Is that clear?”
“Only Daddy,” she repeats, making me a promise with her eyes as I loom above her.
And I hold on to that promise, humbled by it, and I begin feeding her inches.