Chapter 4 #2
He shoots the rest of the glass and dips his head to mine.
“Just a little taste,” he breathes against my lips.
This time, I watch his face as he kisses me.
His eyes are closed, long lashes fanning over his dark cheeks.
His lips are sipping, pulling on mine, persuading them to open.
His tongue touches mine. A little jolt of electricity goes through me.
“It's okay, principessa.” His thumb strokes my cheek, soothing me. “You're such an innocent, little one.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’ve got you fooled, then.”
He chuckles and leans in for another taste, but I stop him with a firm hand. “Not until I’m done baking.”
He could easily overpower me, but he lets me push him back.
He leans against a cabinet with his arms folded, and watches me.
He’s lost his cufflinks but he’s still in his dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. I’m tempted to put him to work chopping almonds or measuring cocoa but he’s so pretty standing there.
“So how long have you lived here?” I ask when I’ve mostly finished making the batter. All that’s left is rolling the cookies into shape.
“My father bought this place some time ago. It’s close to our territory.”
“So you grew up here?”
“I grew up in the Old Country, raised by my aunt. Italian was my first language. You can tell, by the way I talk.”
“Not your accent,” I say, dividing the dough in half. It’s easier to talk to someone so beautiful when my hands are occupied with my favorite thing. “But yes, from the way you sometimes construct your sentences. And, of course, you speak Italian.”
“You recognize the language?”
“Mr. Rossi says things in Italian all the time.”
Royal reaches for a newly shaped cookie and I swat his hand. “There’s raw egg in the dough.”
A smile plays over his lips but he allows me to fend him off.
He does move around the island to stand directly behind me.
I’m short and petite enough he can rest his arms on the counter on either side of me.
Neither his fine black slacks or the voluminous dressing robe I’m wearing disguise the hard probe of his cock.
Is that a rolling pin in your pocket? I’m half tempted to ask, but I keep making cookies. I’ve made another six strazzate when a light finger comes to play with one of the curls at the nape of my neck. I ignore it, and the way his cock is firmly pressed against my bottom. It’s almost a game.
“So your father lives here?” I ask.
“No. Not anymore. No one but me.” Royal keeps toying with my hair. It feels like he’s smoothing out a curl, and letting it spring back into place.
I want to ask more, but his touch is making my hands shake. Under the robe, my bare pussy is dripping. I squeeze my thighs together, but it doesn’t help.
The last row of cookies is turning out to be kind of a mess.
“My father didn’t approve of me,” Royal says out of nowhere.
“Why not?”
“He thought I was weak. Unworthy. He didn’t understand the way my mind worked. But mia zia saw something in me.”
I’m done making the rows of strazzate. I dip my fingers in a warm bowl of water, rinsing them.
Royal’s warm breath puffs against my nape.
“Turns out my father was wrong, and she was right. I’m very close to fulfilling my destiny.
I see the pieces of the puzzle, laid out before me.
” He splays his hands on the counter as if showing me a picture in the sugar-dusted marble.
“That’s how my mind works. The puzzle is almost complete. I just need one more piece.”
Royal’s trying to tell me something and I don’t know what. I turn, still in the circle of his arms. I’m trapped between the island and his taut frame. “Royal, I don’t know what’s going on here.”
He tilts his head in that assessing way of his. His hair falls into his face, but otherwise he might as well be a statue, carved from marble by a master sculptor. “My aunt was something of a witch. Una Bennedetta. Do you know it?”
I shake my head.
“She's gifted a little, in the Sight. The gift of prophecy. She said, ‘When you meet a woman who makes le strazzate di matera like I do, you must take her and marry her.’ You understand?”
Do I understand? The words—sure, I understand. But what he’s telling me? Not a clue. “No,” I whisper.
“Don’t worry. You will.” He tugs the lapel of his robe down my shoulder. “You’re covered in sugar again.”
He dips his head and closes his mouth over my smooth skin, under the pretense of lapping up the sugar.
My head falls back, allowing him full access.
His tongue seems to have a direct line to my pussy, no matter where it touches.
He licks and sucks his way up to my neck, holding me still with his hand around my throat.
I’ve never had a guy take charge of me like Royal.
I’ve also never had a guy so confident in the ins and outs of my body.
My ex barely cared if I got off. Royal seems to have made it his mission in life.
My eyes are half closed by the time he raises his head.
“Sweet,” he murmurs.
I rise to my tiptoes, drawing his shoulders down so I can kiss him, tasting the powdered sugar on his lips. “So are you.”
“Not really. But you are sweet enough for the both of us.” His large hand comes to palm my breast. The lights flicker. For a second, I think it's a trick of my mind, another eclectic shock from Royal’s touch, but when I blink, the lights are still off. So’s the oven.
There’s a hum like a room of engines turning on, and the lights switch back on.
“The generators kicked in,” Royal says. “Up here, a tree falls on the lines during a deep freeze. We have power to last months.”
This house is so extra. A generator and two sets of Le Creuset? I could stay here forever.
Night has darkened the kitchen window. I can barely see beyond a few feet. “Still snowing,” I say.
“Yes, it's quite a blizzard. We might be stuck inside for several days.”
“What about the Rossis? Do you think they'll be okay?”
“I have men watching the shop. They’ll look after the Rossis. I’ll have them deliver food, water. A generator to make sure they have power.”
“Why do you have men watching the shop?”
“Protection. In case Stefanos’ remaining men make a move. It’s unlikely, but I’m taking no chances.”
I ponder this. “The men who helped clean up the broken glass. They’re ones you sent?”
He nods.
“Why are you doing this? Helping us, I mean.” It makes sense that he’d want to expand his territory, but all this work to protect a small bakery? Seems like a lot for the purpose of a one-night stand. But… what else could this be?
“I told you I’d fix it.” He shrugs with his hands in his pockets. “I’m fixing it. That’s what I do. I want to help you.”
“Why?”
“It's too soon to tell you that.” His beautiful mouth curves. “How about I show you instead?”
And that's how I find myself on my back on the grand dining room table. Royal sits in the fancy chair at the head of the table, looking like the lord of his realm. He’s still fully clothed, while I’m in nothing but his robe and my last remaining item of clothing—a flimsy bralette.
He pulls apart the robe I’m wearing. I get the feeling he likes seeing me in his clothes. He plays with my bralette, tugging it down under my breasts. His thumb hits my nipple and sensation detonates between my legs.
“We should watch the cookies,” I say softly, even though I don’t really care.
“You set a timer,” he mutters. With his thumbs, he spreads apart my pussy, staring boldly at it. “Let’s see how many times you can come before they’re done.”
That sounds like a great game.
It’s a little weird to be lying on my back on a dining room table, like I’m a meal to be eaten, but when Royal finishes kissing his way up my inner thighs, he gets down to eating my pussy. Feasting, really. Long swipes of his tongue intersperse with hungry nibbles on my pouty lower lips.
I come within a minute, but he doesn’t stop.
“Royal.” I squirm.
“Again.” He presses my legs apart. A jolt goes through me as he holds me down.
“Tell me when you’re close,” he orders.
“I’m close,” I gasp almost immediately. “I need—”
He raises his head. His tongue leaves my clit and as soon as the pressure is gone, my building climax ebbs away. My whole pussy pulses.
“No,” I whine.
He was working me up, the bastard.
“I thought you were going to see how many times I can come.”
“I’ve decided on a new game.”
I reach for him, and he pushes me back down. His fingers go back to brushing my sensitive spots, so I subside against the polished surface of the dining table.
He plays with my pussy and massages the sensitive area around my rear pucker. I lift my head again when his finger probes too close.
“What are you doing?” I clench my bottom. My anal ring tightens. Royal keeps studying and rubbing my bottom hole.
“How does this feel?” he asks, like a doctor testing reflexes.
It feels amazing. Too amazing, for such a naughty spot. Heat floods my face.
“I'm going to test something,” he murmurs. I’m about to grab his head and shove him away when he bows and puts his whole mouth over my labia.
His tongue thrusts into my sopping entrance.
At the same time, he twists and dips his finger inside my ass.
My orgasm rips through me. I plant my feet and shake.
A few more licks and he's rearing up over me, ripping open his pants and exposing his huge, gorgeous cock.
His hands tug my hips down to meet his. He rubs my slick center over his long length before spearing me.
I arch back, my body bowing on the table. Royal’s hand comes down on my breast, and for once, it’s rough. He squeezes my breast hard as his cock hits the perfect spot. My orgasm begins again.
Royal’s arms are planted on the table, his thrusts pushing me up the polished surface. His hair’s fallen in his face, his teeth are bared. He’s more ferocious and out of control than I’ve ever seen him.
At the last, he pulls out of my sopping pussy and grips my hips to hold me close.
His cum spurts onto my soft stomach. I gasp, my body jack-knifing with my final climax.
Royal leans over me, holding my gaze as I tremble with aftershocks.
His fingers come to my face, tracing my nose, my brows, my cheeks and, finally, rubbing my lower lip.
I open my mouth and bite down on his thumb, gently. A shudder runs through him.
He pulls me into his lap. I sprawl against his chest as he dips his fingers in his cum, scooping it up and feeding it to me. I suck the salty fluid from his fingers.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and I press my legs together, ready to orgasm again.
My head is swirling in the clouds. There’s a buzzing in the background—a long, low sound like an annoyed hornet. The oven timer.
I jolt. “The cookies!”
Royal closes his arms around me, his chest jerking with laughter.
I smack his arm. “How long has the timer been going off?”
“A while.” He holds me close when I would scramble off. “Relax. After you set the timer, I programmed the oven to turn off.”
“They still might be burned. I need to check them.”
“Later,” he growls, scooping me into his arms. “I’m not finished with you.”