6. Crème Légère
Her cornflower eyes sparkle with fear, her pretty lips forming a red O of surprise. Or horror. “You’re insane,” she gasps, trying to take a step back, but she’s got nowhere to go. “I’m not going to let you hurt me.”
I laugh, a low rumble filling my chest. The silly girl thinks she has a choice in the matter. But she doesn’t. Whether she wants to or not, tonight she’ll be wearing her own shade of red. “You don’t have to lie back and take it, chérie,” I tell her, pressing her tightly against my body. “You can fight me as hard as you want. In fact, I’ll enjoy it even more if you do.” I trail my knuckles down the column of her neck, so fragile and pale. “But when you come with my knife pressed against the soft, creamy skin of your throat, I want you to admit you enjoy it too.”
“You’re sick,” she says, her voice small and breathy. She’s not even trying to pull away anymore.
“You’re stalling,” I counter, my brow arched in judgment. In fact, it’s almost as if she’s leaning into my touch, begging for more. Her thighs are spread enough that I could slip my knee between them and let her grind her needy clit against me. If I had to guess, I’m offering her the twisted thrill she’s always wanted but never had enough courage to ask for.
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she thinks over the consequences of saying yes. “You promise you’ll leave if I win?”
I smile, excitement rippling through my nerve endings like electricity. “Cross my heart and hope to die,” I vow, placing my right palm over my chest.
“If only you would and save us all the trouble of your existence,” Aurélie snaps, rolling her eyes.
“But then who would be there to torment you while making you come harder than you have in your entire life?” She scowls, a crease settling in between her brows. “What’s it going to be, golden girl? Brave enough to run from the devil?”
She pauses, and in that moment, I think I’ve lost her. But then she gets that hopeful gleam in her bright blue eyes, and I know she’ll be mine. And she will be the sweetest thing I’ve ever devoured.
“Fine. I agree. Ten minutes, and you’re gone for good. Yes?”
“So certain you’ll win, chérie? I’m wounded.”
“Shut the fuck up and start counting. How much time do I get?”
“Oh, I don’t think I said anything about giving you a head start, goldie.” Panic floods her eyes like ice water, turning them even bluer. “But since you’ve been such a good girl, I suppose I can let you have a small advantage. How about the good old ten second countdown?”
“Ten seconds?” she gasps, wondering how she’ll manage to escape me with such a short amount of time. Spoiler alert—she won’t.
“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts?” I taunt, my voice sharp as razors. “Might want to lose the shoes,” I suggest with a nod toward her red heels.
Simmering with attitude, she pulls away from me and kicks the pointed heels off her feet. They have red soles. I can’t remember the exact significance of that color on the bottom of shoes. I just know she’s probably never had to worry about going hungry.
“There, ready to play?” she asks in her usual, lemon curd tone. “Tellement immature,” she adds under her breath with a haughty roll of her eyes.
“Don’t get so excited, chérie. We aren’t quite ready yet.” I leave her in stunned silence, walk to Chef Matis’ office in the back of the restaurant, and take the keys from his desk. This probably isn’t what he expected when he left me in charge of his kitchen, but I’ve never been one to be bound by expectations. I use the keys to lock up the front doors; the rest of the doors are kept locked anyway unless we’re getting shipments or food deliveries. I tuck the keys into the back pocket of my pants, smiling with the knowledge that Aurélie hasn’t got a chance of making it out of here unscathed.
When I reenter the kitchen, she’s sitting on the counter, her bare feet dangling in the air. It makes me want to bite each of her delectable toes. I tuck away the image for later. “All done,” I announce, leaning against the kitchen doorway as I study her. She really is beautiful. It’s a shame she’s so venomous.
“Alright, let’s get this over with.” She hops off the counter, landing delicately on her feet. “Stand in the middle of the kitchen and close your eyes,” she demands with her hands on her hips.
A smile pulls at my lips as I shuffle toward the middle of the room. She thinks my eyes being closed will save her. Her naivety is so delicious I could gobble it up like a sundae with a cherry on top. Stifling a laugh, I close my eyes and wait for her next order. I’m happy to let her dominate for now knowing that she’ll be the one on her back with my cock between her legs and my knife at her neck in ten minutes.
“What next?” I ask, arching a brow as I await her order.
“Count,” she commands, her tone acrid.
I feel a smile crinkle at the edges of my closed eyes. She’s got a bossy side—I don’t hate it. It’s so much sweeter to overcome the strong rather than the weak. “One,” I start, my voice slow and lazy. “Two.” I hear footsteps scurry across the floor. My guess is that she’s running for the doors. She’s taking her chances running instead of hiding. Not that I blame her. She just doesn’t know that I’ve rigged the game. Yet.
“Three, four.” I hear the distinct sound of the doors rattling as she tries desperately to open them. “Five.” By this point, she knows I’ve locked her in with me. She’ll be panicking and looking for other options. “Six, seven,” I call out loudly, hoping to fuel her fear of being caught. Where will she hide? The coat check closet? “Eight.” The bathrooms? “Nine.” Under one of the tables in the reception area? “Ten.” It doesn’t matter. Because in exactly ten minutes, I will find her. “Ready or not, here I come.”
I grab one of the old-school twist timers from the kitchen supplies and set it to ten minutes. I don’t go looking for Aurélie. I don’t need to. Instead, I start to pull out the ingredients for the next batch of croquembouche she’ll be helping me make tonight after I capture her and ruin her a little. I take flour, eggs, vanilla beans, cornstarch, and sugar out of the pantry and set it on my prep station. From the walk-in, I get milk, butter, and cream.
I measure out the ingredients to save us time later. That will give me more time to play with my sweet little victim. When pouring the cream into a stainless steel bowl and measuring with a small kitchen scale, a wicked idea sparks in my mind. Checking the timer on the counter, I still have seven minutes left. Plenty of time to give this batch of crème légère a personal touch. Thinking about my scared little French girl hiding in some dark corner, trembling with the fear that I will find her and make her scream, I unbuckle my belt, unzip my pants, and fist my cock. The thrill of chasing Aurélie already has my shaft hard as a blade.
I drag my hand over the tip of my cock, spreading pre-cum over my length. I’m already so slick at the thought of what I’ll do to Aurélie when I catch her that I don’t need lube. I pump my hand hard, squeezing my cock to the point of pain, imagining Aurélie’s tight cunt strangling me as I pound into her without mercy. The rush of knowing she’s offered me her body to hurt sends all of my blood heading straight for my erection. The head of my cock is thick and swollen, weeping for a chance to be buried in her lovely mouth or pussy.
My eyes flash to the timer as it continues to tick down loudly—the incessant sound almost deafening as it massacres the silence of the nearly deserted restaurant.
Five minutes.
I’m close. So fucking close. But I need something to take me over the edge. Catching the glint of my knives from the corner of my eye, I pluck my favorite chef’s knife from the collection and hold it in my hand. I’m more delicate with the steel than I am with my cock as I run my fingers over the handle, feeling the small divots etched into the metal. I fist my cock as I grip the knife, fantasizing about dragging the blade over Aurélie’s soft skin, painting her pale body in pretty streaks of red. I wouldn’t want to damage her or scar her, just split her open a bit and see how warm she is on the inside.
“Fuck,” I groan as I picture how her cherry red lips would beg me to stop even as her periwinkle eyes begged me to keep going.
The metal heats in my hand while I run the tip of the blade over my stomach, imagining that I am caressing her skin with the steel. She wants this, I tell myself as I fuck my hand. She wants to be taken to the edge and then pushed the fuck over it. She wants to suffer for me—her dripping wet cunt told me as much when she allowed me to degrade her in the middle of the bar. She wants to give me her pain—I know from the way she pressed against me in the alley, pleading for me to spank her more. She wants to be mine.
“Fucking hell, golden girl,” I growl while thrusting my hips so hard that I’m brutalizing my hand with my dick. “You take the pain so goddamn well.” I feel my shaft thicken and my balls swell and a little sting of pain on my stomach as the sharp blade nicks my skin. The knife clatters to the counter as I grab the metal bowl with one hand and place it under my cock just in time to catch the first spurts of white as I climax. I milk my shaft hard, making sure to get every drop of my cum into the bowl of cream.
I’m breathless by the time I’m spent, ribbons of my arousal floating in the bowl. In about twenty minutes, the semen will liquify, and no one will be able to tell it from the cream. It will be crème d’Grey. Chef Matis should appreciate my personal approach to this assignment. I’m certain Aurélie will. And speaking of—two minutes left.
I pop the bowl of cream in the walk-in to chill and grab my knife from the counter. There’s a sliver of red along the edge. My blood. I can’t wait to mix it with hers.
It’s time to play a little game of hide and seek.
I scrape the edge of the knife along the black wall in the reception area, my eyes scanning for a hint of gold in the darkness. Even though Parisian summer means it stays light until past ten at night, the room is dark because the heavy velvet drapes have been drawn. Since aspects of the restaurant are kept very secretive until we open in August, they don’t leave the dining room open to prying eyes. The tables are empty of place settings, a different assortment of chairs surrounding a combination of large circular tables and long rectangular tables meant for shared dining. Chef Matis is quite picky, and they haven’t finalized the design in the dining room yet.
“Aur-é-lie,” I call out, her name a song on my lips. I drag the blade over the top of one of the long tables, loving the sound of it digging into the wood. “Come out, chérie.” For the sheer delight of tormenting her, I take the knife and slam the edge down hard against the table. The blade sticks out of the dark wood as I rock the handle back and forth to get it loose. There’s a large gash marring the top of the table, but it’s only a model, so I don’t give a fuck.
“Time’s almost up, golden girl.” I bend down low to peek under the tables, letting the blade scrape against the black marble floor. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and I can just picture the look of distaste on her face as she hears it. “You’ve got sixty seconds left,” I warn her. “If you give up and come out, I might take it easy on you.”
The room is silent apart from the distant tick of the timer. “Forty seconds. If you don’t surrender now, you’ll pay for it later.” I hack at the table again to emphasize the threat. The thud of the blade sounds like a cleaver cutting through bone, and I fucking love the melody of it.
“Twenty seconds.” I throw the knife against one of the round tables, my movements erratic as bloodlust fuels my body so thick I can almost taste it. There’s a whimper to the left of me; it’s faint, but I can hear it. I follow the sound slowly, letting my leather shoes drag across the marble floor. I want her to know I’m coming.
“Ten.” I scrape the tip of the blade into one of the chairs as I stalk toward where I heard her. “Nine. Eight. Seven.” I start throwing chairs out of the way, emptying the space around the narrow table in the far corner. They crash to the floor loudly. “Six. Five.” I run the knife down the center of the table, letting the unmistakable scrape of hard steel against soft wood fill the air.
“Four.” I know where she is. “Three.” I don’t even need to look under the table to know that I’ll find her cowering on her hands and knees, shaking with fear as she imagines what I might do to her. “Two.” I wonder how long it will take her to scream? “One.” I shove the table away from the wall and crouch down to the floor.
“Time is up, chérie,” I declare, staring into a pair of truly frightened blue eyes as her first scream of the night blends with the sound of the timer going off in the kitchen. “Now you’re mine.”
I reach for Aurélie’s wrist and drag her out from her hiding spot. She’s kicking and screaming while I pull her up by her shoulders and throw her onto the table. I’m not gentle. I gave her a small chance at mercy, but she didn’t take it. Now, I’m going to be as rough as I fucking please. Her arms and legs flail as she struggles to escape my hold. I take the flat side of my knife and slap it against the exposed skin on her thigh. “Stop fighting,” I command.
“Get the fuck off me, connard,” she screeches, her eyes blazing with fury.
“Such a filthy mouth,” I tsk, bringing the tip of the knife to her lips and dragging it across her soft skin. I don’t use any pressure; I just taunt her with the knowledge that I could tear into her red lips if I wanted to. “We had a deal. You lost. And that means I get to claim my prize.”
“You cheated,” she accuses, careful not to move her lips too much and risk kissing my knife. “You locked the damn doors. I never had a chance of winning.”
“Ah, ah, ah, technically we never agreed upon any ground rules. You should always get the terms and conditions before agreeing to anything. Didn’t daddy teach you that?” I smirk down at her, my last jab rendering her silent. I grab her underneath the knees and drag her down toward the end of the table so her legs dangle off. She uses the opportunity to aim a kick at my balls. I capture her foot mid-assault and dig my finger into her arch until she winces.
“Do not kick me,” I chastise while pinning her legs down with the weight of my upper body. “Someone needs to teach you some fucking manners. As it is,” I reach for my belt and slide it out of the loops, “restraints will have to do until you learn how to restrain yourself. Keep thrashing around like a wild animal, and you’ll end up hurting yourself.” I bend down and nip at her inner thigh. “Don’t you know hurting you is my job, chérie?”
In spite of my warnings, she writhes on the table as I wrap the belt around her left calf and tie her down to the table leg. She kicks out with her other foot, managing to catch me off-guard and hit me in the thigh, far too close to my favorite appendage. I groan in discomfort before catching her free ankle and using the flat side of the knife in my other hand to deliver two quick smacks to the bottom of her foot. “Stay still,” I snap. “Or I’ll shove this blade up your cunt and use the blood as lube for when I replace the knife with my cock.”
Jesus fucking Christ, I don’t know where that came from. It’s like she’s fed the beast inside me so much that I don’t even recognize the sharp toothed monster that stalks my subconscious and clamors for blood.
And even though I would never do anything to damage her beautiful pussy, the horror on her face tells me that she doesn’t know that. She thinks I’m a monster. I can work with that. “Good girl,” I praise when she goes rigid on the table, like a cadaver on a slab. “Now spread your legs and let me see that pretty pussy weep for me.” Without hesitation, she moves her leg to the other side of the table, leaving herself exposed and vulnerable.
“Goddamn, you look delicious,” I sigh as my mouth waters at the sight of her. “I can’t wait to have another taste. But not quite yet.” I reach for the buttons on my white shirt and slowly start to loosen them one by one. I watch as the fear in Aurélie’s gaze dissipates, lust warming her eyes until they are blue pools of fire. She wants me. Against her better judgment and probably her own personal preferences, she wants to eat me alive just as much as I do her. And I’m more than willing to give her the privilege.
I shrug out of my shirt, the black ink on my chest, shoulders, and arms on full display. Using the long sleeves of my shirt, I tie a double knot around Aurélie’s leg before standing back to admire my work. It’s makeshift bondage, but as I’ve never actually tried the real stuff, I think this is pretty good for my first time. She looks gorgeous spread out on the table like a feast, and I can’t wait to dig in.
“Fuck, you look pretty,” I tell her, running my knife over the black material of her dress. “A little overdressed, though,” I say a moment before fitting the sharp edge against the slit on her thigh and slicing upward.
She gasps when the silk falls to pieces beneath the blade. I continue, sliding the knife along her body, caressing her skin as I cut her clothes off her. I stop when I’ve split her dress in half, the material lying loosely over her bare breasts. With two quick slices at her hips, I cut off her panties and throw the red scraps of silk on the floor. With the very tip of the knife, I flick the black silk on her chest away, exposing one of her tits.
“Grey,” she gasps, arching her back as her hips rise off the table. I can’t tell if my name on her lips is a plea to stop or keep going. When she says nothing else, I vote in favor of the latter. I take my knife to her other breast and flip her dress back. “Fuck,” she breaths when the air brushes over her exposed skin, causing her pink nipples to pebble.
“You want me to fuck you, chérie?” Her only answer is a moan, and fuck if that isn’t a goddamn invitation to be balls deep in her pussy. “You’re going have to wait for the honor,” I taunt, my eyes crinkling with wickedness as I smile down at her. “Tearing into your cunt isn’t the only pain you’re going to take for me. I need more.” I lean down and press my knife against one of her nipples. “Can you do that for me, golden girl?”
She nods her head, her eyes half-dazed.
“Say it out loud, Aurélie,” I command. I need to hear her say yes to me.
“Yes, chef,” she answers, her voice warm and thick as cream. “I can take it.”
Without waiting for her to back out, I press the tip of the blade into her nipple until a small bead of blood forms on her pale skin. She gasps, but there’s no fear on her face. She doesn’t pull away. In fact, she pushes her chest up, offering her breasts to my blade. The submission of the act has my cock raging in my pants, begging for another release. Only this time, I’ll cum deep inside her, stuffing her full just like she deserves.
I drag the tip of the knife over her skin until I reach her other nipple. I don’t give her a moment to tense before cutting into her. The small stream of red drips down her pale skin. Unable to resist, I move to the side of the table and bend down to take her nipple into my mouth. I suck the tender flesh against my teeth, savoring the taste of her as she bleeds for me. Berries and cream, just as sweet as I thought it would be. And I want more.
Situating myself between her spread thighs, I press the knife to her sternum and slowly drag it down her body—across her abdomen, through the divot of her belly button, over her pubic bone. I’m not applying enough pressure to split her open, just enough to etch a thin pink line into her skin.
She squirms when I continue to slide the blade through her folds, careful not to nick her. I just want to hear as panic courses through her blood and makes her heart pound harder. “Don’t move,” I order, placing my palm flat over her stomach to ease her wriggling. “I don’t want to cut you.” I realize how unbelievable that sounds after having already cut her twice, but I’ve no desire to ruin her pussy. Yet.
When I pull the knife away, it’s coated with the slickness of her arousal. “Looks like the little slut is enjoying her torture,” I say as I move the knife to her mouth. “Stick out your tongue,” I demand. “I want you to taste how much you love this.” She obeys, flicking her long, pink tongue out. I run the flat edge of the blade over her tongue, letting her taste herself.
And then I twist the knife and nick the very tip of her tongue. She winces as blood wells, but she keeps her tongue out, offering herself to me. Growling, I throw myself on top of her and suck her tongue into my mouth, kissing her deeply as I drink her in. Fuck, she tastes so good I just want to devour her until there’s nothing left. I fist my hand in her hair and twist her head to the side. “I need to be inside you,” I whisper harshly against her ear. She nods as much as she can with her hair in my grasp. “Say it,” I bite out.
“Please fill me,” she pleads, her blue eyes dazed.
A smile of pure malice stretches across my bright white teeth. “Good, but not specific enough,” I warn moments before flipping the blade in my hand and slamming the hilt into Aurélie’s spread open pussy. She screams at the contact, the hard steel colder than what she had been expecting to slide into her entrance. “Is this how you want to be filled?” I taunt, pulling the handle of the knife all the way out before jamming it back in. “Do you want to take my chef’s knife up your cunt and fill you full of steel?”
She shakes her head as she whimpers, her legs trembling with the effort of trying to pull her thighs closed. But she can’t. She’s tied and helpless beneath me, and that is exactly how I like her. “Use your words, chérie,” I order, transfixed on the sight of the knife burrowing in her pussy over and over. “What do you want?”
“Please give me your cock,” she begs with a raw voice, like she’s screamed herself hoarse even though I’ve just barely tormented her.
“Still not specific, Aurélie.” I thrust the knife faster as a sign of my impatience. “Where do you want my cock? Do you want it in your cunt, your mouth, your ass, maybe?” I slide the knife handle out of her pussy and drag it down between her ass cheeks and circle her puckered rosebud. The steel is so slick with her cum that I could slide right into her back hole, even if she is an anal virgin. “Is this where you want my cock?” I try to press against the tight ring of muscle, but pause when I hear her whimper and feel her body shudder beneath me. “Which hole is it going to be, whore?”
“M-my pussy. Please put your cock in my pussy.”
I look up to see her biting into her bottom lip so hard she’s bleeding. Her hands are down by her hips; she has a death grip on the edges of the table. Her naked body trembles, a mixture of fear and need coursing through her bloodstream. Her eyes are locked on mine, bright blue spheres that beg for destruction. And I’m only too happy to give it to her.
I toss my knife on the table and make quick work of my pants, pulling them low on my hips and setting my aching cock free. She tries to sit up on the table to see what sort of equipment she’s about to be fucked within an inch of her life with, but I press my hand against her chest and force her back on the table. “Stay down.”
I drag her ass toward the edge of the table, forcing her knees to bend at an uncomfortable angle with her calves still tied to the table legs. She’s spread wide open, her pussy clenching with the need to be filled as her cum drips down from her hole onto the table. I line myself up with her entrance and slam in all the way to my balls in one harsh thrust. She screams as her body tries to adjust to the sudden assault and the size of my cock. I’m eight inches, so longer than your average dick, but it’s the thickness of my shaft that could kill her. My cock has the girth of a steel pole, and with how hard I am at the moment, it probably feels like I’m fucking her with one.
She whimpers with every thrust, and the helpless sound just makes me want to take her harder. I put all of my weight on her, letting her feel how little power she has as I force her body to submit to me. I catch the glint of my knife on the table and fist it in my hand before bringing it up to her neck. “Can you come like this, chérie?” I ask. “Can you come with my knife to your throat?”
“Yes,” she gasps. “Harder.”
Not one to disappoint, I dig my fingers into her hip and fuck her like I hate her—which I might. But at the same time, I want to consume her cum and spit and tears and sweat and blood like she is the most precious and pure creature I’ve ever encountered. I want to drink in her essence like she’s the goddess of life. The feeling of being inside her for the first time fills me with a sort of effervescent warmth that I’ve never experienced before. And I’m almost certain that a small part of my dark heart loves her.
“Mon Dieu, oui,” she moans again as the sharp thrusts of my hips take her right where she needs to be. “Plus, s’il te plait.”
I give her more just like she asks for, the violence of my thrusts causing the knife at her throat to puncture the skin. A small trickle of blood trails down her throat, and I use the edge of the blade to smear it over her creamy skin. I want to lick it up, but right now I want her to come on my cock more. I ram into her so hard that I expect my thighs will be sore after, loving every whimper and cry that leaves her lips. Her back arches off the table, and I know she’s close. Taking my hand from her hip, I slide my fingers through her wet folds and find her swollen clit. I rub firm circles around the nub until Aurélie’s whimpers turn into a scream of pleasure.
“Are you coming on my cock, chérie?” I ask, even though I already have the answer from the way her cunt is clenching my shaft. I just want to hear her say it.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she screams as she continues to ride out her orgasm.
I pin her down beneath me and buck into her like an animal, reaching my peak right alongside her. A guttural groan leaves my throat when I climax, spilling my seed inside of her. I pump into her a few more times, making sure she gets every last drop of me. There’s a faint warning bell sounding in the back of my head—warning me that I shouldn’t be inside her bare, and I definitely shouldn’t be coming inside her, but pleasure quickly drowns out reason.
I slide my still hard cock out of her, frowning when I see a smear of blood on my shaft. “Were you a virgin?” I ask in surprise. I had considered the possibility, but I never thought someone inexperienced would take my knife in her cunt and beg me for more.
She laughs, the sound light and musical. It’s the happiest she’s sounded since I met her four weeks ago. “Of course not,” she responds with a teasing smile. “You just managed to fuck a new hole into me.”
My frown deepens. As much as I wanted to hurt her, I hadn’t planned on causing any internal damage. And I’ve certainly never fucked someone so hard that they bled. I can’t stop staring at the stain of red on my skin, and I hate how much I love the sight of it. “I’m sorry,” I respond, the guilt thick in my voice.
She giggles as she sits up on her elbows to look at me. “You’ve chased me in the dark with a knife, strapped me to a table, ruined my clothes, and cut my skin, but you’re sorry for giving me the best petite mort of my life?” She shakes her head in disbelief, “You are truly deranged, Grey.”
My lips twist at the accusation. She has no idea. My cock is already throbbing at the thought of wrecking her all over again. I’m half-tempted to try. I’ve already come twice—once in the cream and once when I creamed in her cunt. I could probably manage a third time.
“Well,” she announces brightly, startling me from my fantasies as she sits up on the table. “Since I don’t get to escape the rest of tonight’s torture, set me free, and we can attempt to help you make a croquembouche as perfect as mine.”
“Who said I was going to let you go, chérie?” I taunt, leaning over her so that she has to lay back down. “Maybe I’ll just keep you here until morning.”
“I’m fairly certain that living up to Chef Matis’ standards is more important to you than getting your dick wet, even if my pussy is golden.”
I groan at the reminder of my responsibilities when all I want to do is fuck her again. But she’s right. Crème légère and pate à choux come before the needs of my cock tonight. “Fine,” I retort bitterly, bending down to untie my belt from one leg and then my shirt from the other one. I’ll have to let her wear it since I annihilated her dress.
“Don’t pout, mon bel Américain,” she chides, a lovely smile on her ruined lips. Her freed legs wrap around my waist and pull me closer to her. Her hands run delicately over the tattoos on my arms, tracing the patterns of the artwork inked in black on my skin as she slides her hands up to my neck and pulls me down toward her.
For the first time tonight, she’s not behaving as though she’s being forced to endure my pleasure. She’s acting like she wants this just as much as I do. And when her soft mouth lands on mine, warm and willing, I think I might believe her. Our kiss is sweet, nearly chaste compared to the heat of the blood and liquor filled acts of violence we’ve shared before. And the innocence of her lips on mine makes me want to defile her mouth all over again.
“Tell you what,” she purrs in between small kisses. “Win another challenge.” Her mouth trails down to my jaw. “And you can take me home.” Her lips drop to my throat, and I shiver with pleasure. “And do dirty, filthy things to me in the sweet little hovel that you call a home.” Her perfectly straight teeth sink into my neck, and I allow myself a moment to give in to the thrill of her aggression before grabbing her hair and pulling her off me.
It takes me a moment to shake myself from her dangerous coils. The constriction of her embrace felt like comfort a moment before I realized she was squeezing hard enough to strangle my heart in my ribcage. Aurélie is dangerous. She makes me feel. And emotion is a deadly distraction because I have no idea how to combat it. No one has ever taught me how to handle someone delicately. I’ve known the desire to destroy for as long as I can remember. But the longing to mend things afterward is something entirely new.
I wrap steel around my floundering heart and gaze down at Aurélie’s angelic face. The viperous angel that will send me to my own Hell. I take her jaw in my hand and squeeze hard, reminding her that I’ll be the only one doing the annihilating around here. “Deal,” I agree in answer to her proposition. I was already going to win the next challenge. She’s just thrown me her beautiful body to ravish as an extra prize. And I have every intention of wrecking her. “Game on, golden girl.”
“I can’t believe you’ve already prepped,” Aurélie gasps when she enters the kitchen and sees all the ingredients laid out on the counter in perfect quantities. “When did you even have the time to do all this?”
I shoot her a wicked smile while I go to the walk-in to get my special bowl of cream. “When you were scurrying around the restaurant in the dark, terrified of what I might do when I caught you.” I bring the steel bowl back with me and place it on the counter before grabbing a hand whisk from one of the drawers. “Tell me, was I every bit the monster you were expecting?”
“Obviously,” she retorts, gesturing to the small cut on her neck where I nicked her with the knife while I came inside her. “Although, the délicieux orgasme was a pleasant surprise.”
I laugh at how far we’ve come since our first meeting in this kitchen. She’s barefoot and wearing nothing but my white shirt, the outline of her hips entirely noticeable as she sways them while scalding milk in a pan. I’m shirtless, my black tattoos standing out against the stark white of the kitchen. I never put my belt back on, and my black pants are ridging low on my hips and doing nothing to obscure the hard-on that never seems to vanish when I’m near Aurélie. My cock is already prepped for me to bend my girl over the counter and stuff her full again.
I start to whisk the liquid in the bowl rapidly, whipping my own cream by hand. It would be more standard to use an electric whisk, but I’ve always liked getting to control the texture with my own hands. And it gives me something to do with all the pent up tension that clearly wasn’t sated by our twisted little game of hide and seek. No matter how much I get of Aurélie, I always seem to hunger for more.
“What are you doing?” she asks when she looks over to see me jumping a few steps ahead in the crème légère recipe. She’s already tempered the eggs with the milk, and is stirring until the creme patissiere thickens.
“Practicing my technique,” I answer with a coy smile. “This is what Chef Matis requested, yes?”
“Alright,” she answers with a huff. “Just make sure you get it in the walk-in before it starts to deflate.”
“Yes, chef,” I quip, smacking her ass before continuing to whip my cream into stiff peaks. When it’s ready, I hold up the whisk and run my finger through the swirl of whipped cream on top. “Try it,” I tell her, holding my finger up to her lips.
“It’s crème fouettée, Grey,” she says while rolling her eyes and continuing to stir her pan. “I think even you can handle a procedure of that simplicity.”
Her damn tart mouth makes this moment even sweeter. “Try it, then,” I order, rubbing the white cream over her stained-red lips. “Or I’ll make a mess of you until you do.”
“Fine,” she concedes, wrapping her lips around my finger and sucking it clean in a way that makes my cock get even harder in my pants. When she releases my finger, there’s a look of confusion on her face. “Have you salted it?” she asks, smacking her lips together like she’s trying to decipher what she’s just tasted. She doesn’t know that she just had her first taste of my cum. And she’ll be getting loads more after I win the next challenge.
“It’s my own secret recipe,” I reply with a wink. “I beat in a little something extra just for you.”